She had her best smile on, the one she always wore to the office, but it was trembling at the edges as she glanced around the room. Finally her gaze settled on an older man who always perched at the counter. Lane knew he was a retired English teacher from the high school. Sarah had probably been teacher’s pet.
“Hi, Mr. Jenson,” she said.
He turned briefly and offered her a scowl that reminded Lane of some grim hero of literature—Captain Ahab, maybe. It was a look that would send most people skittering out the door, but Sarah stood firm.
“How are you?” she asked in a louder voice. She crossed the buffed linoleum and perched on a stool beside him, clasping her knees in her interlaced hands. “Remember me? Sarah Landon?”
A hushed murmur swept through the diners. Some of them obviously hadn’t known who she was, but judging from the way they all turned away, they’d heard of her. There were no hellos, not even a few casual nods. He could swear the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
Mr. Jenson gave her a scowl and kept on eating. She kept on smiling, but her eyes brightened and he could tell she was holding back tears. He couldn’t really blame her. She might not like the town. She might have made escaping it her lifetime goal. But he’d always figured growing up in a place like Two Shot was like being part of a big, extended family. A troublesome, pain-in-the-neck family, but still a family. And didn’t families forgive each other?
People must have heard who she was working for. He’d been viewed with suspicion, even hostility, when he’d first moved to the ranch and started spending time in town. They didn’t welcome outsiders and they definitely weren’t embracing energy development with open arms. Maybe it was because there were so many older residents and they were resistant to change. Or maybe they’d seen the cautionary tale playing out in Midwest, and didn’t want to experience the same kind of boom-to-bust disaster. In any case, Sarah obviously had her work cut out for her.
She turned to the man on the next stool, who was downing a short stack like it was the last food on the planet and some alien might snatch it away.
“Joe,” she said.
Joe might not be the friendliest guy in the world, but he never seemed to care about folks one way or the other. He treated everyone with the same distant, laconic attitude.
But he wasn’t even speaking to Sarah.
She stood in the aisle, clasping and unclasping her hands.
“Hey, sweetheart,” said a gruff voice. “You can sit with me.”
It was a trucker, heavyset and unshaven, wearing a wrinkled denim shirt and oil-streaked jeans. His black leather motorcycle boots had chains across the instep. Sarah had evidently dealt with his kind before, and she wasn’t desperate enough to deal with one again. “No thank you.” She shot him a killing glare. “And I’m not your sweetheart.”
Great. She could have sassed him off, dismissed him with a laugh, but instead she’d confirmed everybody’s bad opinion by being rude and snooty. Somebody needed to save this woman from herself.
Lane hooked his boot around a rung of the empty chair beside him and pulled it away from the table. “Join us?”
Judging from her grateful smile, she’d never been so happy to see him. She crossed the diner in three long steps and dropped into the chair.
“Hey. Heard you two got together in the Love Nest last night.” Trevor’s tone was just a shade too loud for normal conversation. “I didn’t know you were, you know.” He waggled his eyebrows. Trevor had never been famous for tact. Lane was just grateful he didn’t demonstrate with a hand gesture.
A flush turned her face to a becoming pink. “Lane just needed a place to stay. I was at the cabin, so I… he slept on the sofa.”
“Oh.” Trevor grinned. “Well, excuse me. I saw the way he looked at you when you walked in, and I could’ve sworn he was picturing you naked.”
“He does that with all the girls.” There. The old Sarah was back, flippant and fun. He breathed a sigh of relief and was surprised to realize how much he’d tensed, suffering through her ostracism with her.
“I guess you noticed a lot of people know you’re here for Carrigan,” he said, nodding toward the crowd. Most of the diners had returned to their meals, but a few were still leveling hostile stares in her direction.
“You say that like you’re not a Carrigan yourself,” she said.
“I might be a Carrigan, but they know I’m not a part of this project.” He finished his last forkful of egg and sat back. “Nobody around here is too happy about the drilling, as you might have noticed.”
The diner’s owner Suze, a heavyset blonde who’d been whipping around the room removing plates and taking orders with her usual efficiency, paused by their table. “You want something?”
This should be interesting. Lane was sure Suze would be the toughest nut for Sarah to crack. The place was hung with dream catchers and cheap prints of wolf packs howling dramatically at the moon. Between the decor she’d chosen and the Birkenstocks on her feet, Lane was sure Suze wouldn’t take kindly to an invasion from the Carrigan Corporation.
“Oh, hi, Suze.” Sarah gave the woman a smile, but the waitress was all business.
“You want something or what?”
“No, thank you.” Sarah rose and laid a dollar on the table, despite the fact she hadn’t eaten anything. She was blinking fast, clearly hurt by Suze’s deliberate snub. “I need to get going.”
“You do that,” Suze said. “You just do that.”
Chapter 27
Sarah sat in the car and seethed, staring at the parking meter. She had fifteen minutes left, but she’d practically been kicked out of the diner. Not physically, but emotionally. And it hadn’t felt good.
Gripping the wheel with both hands, she rested her forehead on the cool plastic. The morning hadn’t been a total loss. She knew more now than she had when she’d arrived.
She knew everybody hated her.
She couldn’t say she was surprised. She’d dreaded her first encounter with the town. But it had been even worse than she expected. Sure, she’d been a bitch in the years before she’d left, but she’d been a kid, a kid with a lot of problems. Couldn’t they give her a break?
Apparently not. Lane said they knew she was there as a Carrigan representative, but why would they assume that was a bad thing? One look around that diner would make it clear to anybody that the town was fading away. There wasn’t a single person in there under forty, and few under sixty. Carrigan would bring better roads, more money for public services, and jobs for peoples’ children, so they could stay in their hometown.
So why weren’t they glad to see her? Heck, they should be clamoring for a chance to talk to her. Suze should have been asking if she’d need more tables for the workers. Joe should have been checking to see if he could get a job working electrical on the rig. Mr. Jenson had a son somewhere, and a daughter. Why wasn’t he asking about employment opportunities for his kids?
Someone had gotten there before her. Someone had put a negative spin on the Carrigan deal.
Was it just a coincidence that Lane was right there to watch her get the big freeze?
She didn’t want to think about it. Shoving the key in the ignition, she cranked the engine to life and blinked a few times, telling herself it was the rising sun that had her eyes stinging. She distracted herself by poking the presets on the radio, looking for a station with soothing music. She’d finally settled for a scratchy, barely there NPR broadcast of a Brahms symphony when her phone rang.
She dug it out of her purse and squinted at the small screen, her vision blurred with the tears she refused to cry.
Eric. Just what she needed. He probably wanted a progress report. What was she going to tell him? Progress was negative. The company had been better off before she’d arrived in town. Her stomach clenched painfully and it took her a moment to recover enough to answer.
“Hello?”
“Sarah.” There wasn’t a hint of his usual bantering humor in his ton
e. “You’re in Two Shot.”
“Yes.” Why did he have to call so fast? She needed time to think things through.
“I understand you’ve been there before.”
This time, there was no mistaking his tone. He knew. Lane hadn’t just set the residents of Two Shot against her; he’d blabbed to Eric too.
He cleared his throat. “I also understand there’s a lot of negative feeling there toward you, and it’s bleeding over to the project.”
“I don’t know, Eric. I just got here. I’m working on…”
“I’ve gotten three phone calls, Sarah, from three different people, all of them telling me they don’t want Carrigan there.”
“Who was it?”
“They were anonymous. But two of them mentioned you by name. They said you didn’t have the town’s best interests at heart.”
A cloud passed over the sun and she felt suddenly cold. “When did you get those phone calls?”
“Last night.”
Last night. No one had known she was there last night.
No one but Lane.
She felt like a whirling, spinning tornado of emotions. Despair. Fear. Regret. Anger. Anger. Anger.
Lane hadn’t just betrayed her the morning after. He’d done his dirty work before they even got together. He’d apparently spread rumors and lies about her, then gone to the cabin and worked his charm on her afterwards. She smothered a sob so Eric wouldn’t hear it, feeling like she’d explode from the force of the shame building inside her.
She’d known their liaisons probably didn’t mean anything to Lane—but there had been a tiny glimmer of hope in her heart that believed his feelings were more than skin-deep. A foolish, girlie part that hoped for a happily ever after with a man who set her on fire like nobody ever had before.
Instead, he screwed up her life, used her, and then sat back and watched the damage he’d done. He was worse than uncaring; he was cruel, savoring a side dish of victory along with his eggs and bacon.
She’d known this was a game to him. She’d recognized a part of herself in him—the part that always wanted to win at any cost. She’d gotten caught up in playing the game with a worthy contender. But she hadn’t considered the price of losing.
“Eric, I have a solid understanding of the small-town mentality. Being raised in Two Shot is an advantage.”
“Not when you’ve burned all your bridges and moved on. Look, Sarah, you’re clearly not the best person for this project. You’ve set us back. I want you out of there.”
“Okay.” She sucked in a deep breath. “So you want me back in Casper?”
She stared at the face of the parking meter and waited for his response.
And waited. And waited. Maybe she should put another dime in the meter.
Finally, she couldn’t stand the silence. “Eric?”
“I’m taking you off the project.”
“Is there another project?”
“Not really.”
“Are you firing me?”
He sighed. “Look, Sarah, I’m sorry, but I hired you to build positive feelings in the community, and frankly, you’ve had the opposite effect.” He cleared his throat. “I hope you know this isn’t personal. It could make things awkward, because…” He cleared his throat again.
“Because you’re dating Gloria?”
“Yes. I know it might surprise you, but…”
“It doesn’t surprise me. Gloria’s a great person.” She realized what she was saying was true. Gloria was always upbeat, always positive. Sarah was going to miss her.
“Well, thanks. I’m glad you understand.” His tone was kinder, but it wasn’t friendship or caring; it was pity. “I’m going to hook you up with HR, okay? They’ll tell you when to pick up your next check.”
She couldn’t pick it up. There was no way she could walk into that building and face all her coworkers after getting fired.
“They can send it to me.”
She was speaking into a dead line. Eric had put her on hold.
“Human Resources,” said a nasal, mechanical voice. Sarah recognized the speaker as the woman who’d scheduled her interview four months earlier. “Miss Landon?”
“Yes,” Sarah said.
“Would you like your final check mailed? I’ll need your current address.”
Sarah lowered the phone, staring straight ahead out the windshield. She didn’t have an address. She’d figured on staying at Kelsey’s, but that was impossible now. And she didn’t have any savings because she’d been supporting Kelsey and Katie as well as herself.
Maybe she could just keep feeding dimes into the meter and live in her car.
“I’ll pick it up.” Her voice cracked on the first word and she ended up whispering into the phone.
“Pardon?”
“I’ll pick it up.” She managed to speak up, but her tone was angry and irritated. The woman didn’t deserve that; she was just doing her job. How many times had Sarah treated someone that way? How many times had she disregarded the feelings of someone who couldn’t serve her ambition? She’d done it over and over in Two Shot, and she realized now she’d done it at Carrigan, too. No wonder everyone hated her. She’d always been proud of her ambition, but it was really just a socially acceptable way to be self-centered.
“Thank you,” she choked out.
Pressing the “End” button, she tossed the phone on the seat and put the car in gear. It wasn’t easy to see through the tears, but somehow she’d make it to the so-called Love Nest and gather her things.
Hopefully Lane wouldn’t come to see the fruits of his victory, because she had a feeling her tears would only mean extra points to him.
Chapter 28
Sarah crammed the clothes she’d worn the day before into her bag and zipped it shut. Hefting it in one hand, she staggered down the loft stairs and set it on the floor by the front door. She cocked her wrist and shoved her sleeve up to check her watch, then swore softly. Her watch was gone. Had she left it on the nightstand?
She climbed the stairs and checked. Nope. Glancing around the room, she tried to think where she’d left it. Maybe it was in the bathroom downstairs. Or on the coffee table, next to the candles. Maybe she’d taken it off when she and Lane…
Don’t think about it.
Trotting back down, she grabbed her messenger bag and put it beside the overnight bag, then made a concerted search for the watch, scanning every horizontal surface. Maybe it was in the kitchen.
Wait, she hadn’t even been in the kitchen, had she? Not since she first arrived. Still, maybe she’d taken it off then. She stood in the doorway, scanning the room. No watch, but there was a note taped to the front of the coffeemaker.
She strode over and snatched it off, nearly ripping it in half when the tape didn’t give way.
Good morning, Sunshine!
The greeting was followed by a happy face, with rays coming off it to make it look like the sun. What kind of a man drew happy faces? It didn’t seem very Lane-like. If she were still playing the game, she’d hang onto the note and tease him about it. Yesterday it would have made her smile.
Have some coffee and come to Suze’s when you wake up. I’ll introduce you to some people.
He’d signed it with a flourish that was obviously the product of years of autograph signing.
So he’d actually told her to go to Suze’s—invited her right into the lion’s den. Nice. That way, when he was done trashing her, he could point her out to all his friends and watch her get the big freeze.
“Don’t do me any favors,” she muttered.
She scanned the counters, searching for the watch. She wanted to be out of the Love Nest before he came back to torture her some more. But it was her stepfather’s watch, the one thing she had from him. She’d started wearing it the day he died, and it was the one thing in the world she didn’t want to leave behind.
She crumpled the note in her hand and went back to the living room. She needed a system. She’d search each piec
e of furniture in turn, methodically and thoroughly, starting with the sofa. Tossing the pillows aside, she lifted the cushions to search underneath. She was down on her hands and knees peering under the sofa when the front door opened.
“Hey,” said a familiar voice.
She sat up too fast and got dizzy, but there was no mistaking the tall figure that stood on the doormat. She simply stared at him, waiting for her vision to clear. She’d been so intent on leaving that she hadn’t thought about what she’d say if Lane found her there.
So she wouldn’t say anything. She needed to find that watch, and then she’d walk away. With no job at the oil company, there was no reason to speak to Lane Carrigan ever again.
That was about the only good news she could think of.
***
Lane watched Sarah sit up. She was swaying slightly, her skin pale, her eyes unfocused. Had she come home and hit the liquor cabinet or what? As he stepped toward her, holding out a steadying hand, she got back down on her hands and knees and scuttled around the side of the sofa, peering beneath it.
“You looking for something?”
“No, I’m trying to see the world from a cockroach’s point of view.” She sat up. “Have you seen my watch?”
“Everybody’s seen your watch.” He glanced at her wrist and noticed for the first time that the clunky Timex she always wore was missing. “Why do you wear that, anyway? Did it belong to an old boyfriend or something?”
“None of your business.” She ducked her head under an end table, still searching. “I can’t leave without it.”
“So don’t leave.” He sat down on the edge of the sofa to admire the way her sweet ass stuck up in the air, but the minute she realized what he was doing, she tried to pop back up on her knees and hit her head on the bottom of the table.
“Ow.”
He knelt down beside her but she scooted away, her hand feeling for the bump on her noggin. “Why the hell would I stay?”
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