Retreat (The Getaway Series Book 1)

by Jay Crownover

  A strangled laugh escaped my lips and I turned to look at her over my shoulder. “Their asses did look pretty phenomenal in those jeans.” Cy’s especially when he had marched away after dressing me down with his long-legged and confident stride. He was a man who moved with purpose and determination. He moved like nothing would distract him or deter him from the path he was on, like whatever he had to do was far more important than anything else happening. I always envisioned a real cowboy would move like that, minus the slightly bow-legged stance that my overactive imagination often added for dramatic effect.

  Emrys laughed and some of the weight I’d been carrying around in my heart lately lightened a bit.

  “Just play nice with everyone for the next week, Leo. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “I can do that.” She wasn’t asking for much, and as long as big brother Warner stayed away from me, I should be able to comply with no problem. I was here to invest some quality time in our friendship and to give my battered heart and sense of self some much needed space. My ability to trust and my faith in my own judgment had been eviscerated. Maybe the quiet and disconnect from everything that was familiar would work at healing all the things Chris and his lies had left torn and tattered.

  I was going to do my best to trust these not quite cowboys to not only guide us through the mountains and the wilderness but hope that along the way, they somehow managed to guide me back to who I was before I was broken.

  Not Quite the Typical Dinner Conversation

  Since my showdown with Mr. Personality had eaten into the allotted hour that we’d been given before making our appearance at dinner, I offered Emrys the tiny, perfectly rustic but still modern bathroom instead of claiming it for myself. I figured I’d already tanked any kind of good impression I was going to make for the day, so there was really no point in trying to spruce myself up and pretend to be someone who was more pleasant and put together than I actually was. Plus, I was determined to pull my head out of my ass where my best friend was concerned, and give her the memorable, bonding experience that she obviously wanted from this trip. There weren’t many people in the world I would attempt to adjust my attitude for. Emrys just happened to be at the top of that list, and truth be told, I was tired of being miserable and of making others who cared about me miserable, as well.

  At first, when the truth about Chris and our sham of a relationship came out, I was heartbroken and devastated. It didn’t take long for those emotions to bleed into embarrassment and anger. That embarrassment meant I did my best to keep to myself. I wanted to lick my wounds in private, which had me doing everything I could think of to keep my bossy best friend away. I blew her off. I ditched our regular weeknight get-togethers. I ignored her calls and left her hanging. I even ditched several of the previous business engagements we’d agreed to go to together, leaving her to fend off horny businessmen all on her own. I missed her birthday and purposely started a knock-down-drag-out fight with her when she called me on my bullshit. I didn’t want anyone close enough to see the way I was hurting, especially not the person who knew me better than anyone else. Luckily for me, Em was as stubborn as she was demanding. I pushed her away as hard as I could but she never went anywhere. She scaled those mile-high walls and did her best to drag me back to the land of the living. I owed her the best week I could possibly give her.

  Emrys disappeared into the bathroom and I took the time alone in the room to change into jeans and a fitted plaid shirt. I pulled my tangled hair out of the ponytail it was more than likely going to live in for the next week and rubbed my fingers over my scalp as it tingled in relief. I smirked when I caught sight of myself in the big mirror that hung on the back of the closet door. Once I added the new Justin Roper boots I had bought specifically for this trip, I would look more like what I always envisioned a traditional ranch hand looked like. Going with that, I plaited my hair into twin braids that ran down either side of my head in a style I hadn’t worn it in since I was a little girl. My hair had just enough red in it that when I was younger I was afraid of the Pippi Longstocking jokes but because it curled wildly and in every which way, what I got instead was Little Orphan Annie. The jibes hurt, mostly because of the reasons behind the name calling. It was well known that my grandparents were raising me because my mother didn’t want me and my father was never in the picture. Knowing that you weren’t wanted by the person who brought you into the world was a tough pill to swallow. Luckily, my grandmother and grandfather had gone out of their way to make sure I grew up knowing they more than loved me and would give me everything they could to make up for my mother’s neglect. I’d never wanted for anything in my life, except for the ever-elusive answers as to how my mother could decide she didn’t love me when I wasn’t even old enough to give her a reason not to.

  I’d asked the question to both my grandparents and to the woman who had given me life. No one had a response that offered any kind of relief. There was no answer. There was no reason. To her, I was simply unwanted, an inconvenience. She already had her life planned out and I was never supposed to be a part of it. I was problematic, and to her that made me unlovable and that was enough for her to give me up and walk away from me forever.

  Emrys told me it was my good fortune she left me behind. My grandparents put me in the best schools, in every kind of extracurricular activity that struck my fancy, took me to see the world, taught me about different cultures, and instilled an appreciation for hard work and self-reliance. They raised me to be independent, to think for myself, but the fact that the reason I had all those opportunities at my fingertips was because I was abandoned always niggled at the back of my mind. It drove me to be as close to perfection in all things as I could get. I knew there wasn’t anything wrong with me, that the problem lay within the woman who couldn’t be a mother. Still, the questions remained, and with them the fear that maybe, just maybe, there was something about me that people found hard to love. It made me defensive and prickly around people, especially people who tried to get close.

  Annoyed at the morose thoughts, I plucked the ranch brochure that Em had been toting around like some kind of vacation bible for the last few weeks out of the top of her bag and thumbed through it.

  There were pictures of the mountains and the beautiful terrain. A flawless mountain lake fed by a pristine river and, of course, there was a requisite fisherman in waders in the image with a smile the size of Montana on his face. There were pictures of attractively dressed tourists on gorgeous horses loaded down with gear, all of them laughing and clearly having a grand old time. There were pictures of the adorable cabins and the stables, full of horses. There was a picture of Sutton sitting on a horse. I tapped it with a finger because he had on a black Stetson and a jean jacket with shearling at the collar. He was leaning on the saddle horn and because he seemed incapable of smiling, he looked every bit the rugged and trail-ready cowboy. There was also a picture of Lane. The brother who did smile. In the picture, he was doing just that as he sat in front of a blazing campfire with a guitar in his hands. He also had on a cowboy hat, only his was straw and his shirt was similar to the trendy flannel one I had just changed into. In the brochure, they were full-on cowboy; in person, not so much.

  I snorted and flipped the thing over. I couldn’t stop the breath that I sucked in when I saw the picture on the back. There were a few images of the main house and the huge wooden dining table that looked like it was straight out of the show Vikings. There was a picture of a gorgeous, redheaded woman laughing with her head thrown back as she kneaded dough on a flour-covered counter. But, it was the picture of Cyrus Warner in his office, sitting behind a massive desk, leaning back in a leather wingback chair, with his arms crossed over his broad chest, and an intense look on his face, that sucked the air right out of my lungs. It wasn’t like any office I had ever seen before. There was a gigantic longhorn skull hanging on the wall above his head. It looked like the lighting fixture was made from an old stagecoach wheel. Not to mention the adjacent c
hairs were covered in a cowhide pattern that I was willing to bet was actually from a cow. It was unmistakably western and unquestionably an office that belonged on a ranch. It was also unequivocally masculine and powerful, exactly like that man who commanded the space. Even in print he was impressive, but still nowhere close to being considered a cowboy. Unlike his brothers, he was dressed much like he had been today, black T-shirt, slickly styled hair with the glint of silver on the sides. He didn’t look like a cowboy or a businessman. He didn’t look like anything I could label or compartmentalize, which made a shiver of challenge and curiosity shoot up my spine.

  “You’re finally interested in how we’re spending our time this week?” Emrys exited the bathroom with her long hair wrapped up in a towel and a billow of steam following. She was dressed similarly to how I was, though that was how she had arrived as well. Unlike me, Em was well acquainted with the great outdoors. “I’m glad. I really think we’ll have a lot of fun if you give it a chance.”

  I sighed and tossed the brochure next to me on the bed. “You did see where it said you need to be a proficient rider, right? I haven’t been on a horse since I was a teenager.”

  One of the extracurricular activities I’d wanted to try when I was younger was horseback riding. My grandpa had grown up around horses in Texas, well before he’d moved to Northern California. He’s been elated when I showed an interest in something that we could do together. He signed me up for riding lessons at a local equestrian center faster than I could say ‘giddy up’. I stuck with the lessons for a whole summer. I got pretty good with the big animals and really started to love riding. I liked the way being in total control of such a massive and powerful animal made me feel. Or at least I did until I got thrown when a skittish mount, that didn’t want to take a jump, tossed me like I weighed nothing. I broke my wrist in two places and decided I’d had enough of horseback riding. It was too unpredictable and I didn’t have as much control as I fooled myself into thinking I did. Story of my life it seemed. I bailed and never went near a horse again. I hated to fail, and when I did, I didn’t risk a repeat of the experience.

  “Proficient doesn’t mean professional. You know how to put on a saddle, and a bridle, and you can ride for several hours a day without falling off. That was all the waiver we signed required.” She took her hair out of the towel, the dark waves cascading down around her shoulders like black silk. “I haven’t been on a horse in years. Not since I dated that Spanish polo player in college.”

  We exchanged a look and both let out a dreamy sigh. The polo player had been hot, but then again, every man Em dated was hot. My best friend didn’t do average. It was one of the traits I most admired about her. She refused to settle for anything.

  “Your hair looks cute like that.” She reached out and pulled on the end of one of the pigtails as I got up from the bed. “Very Elly May Clampett.”

  I swatted her hand away as my stomach growled, letting me know the cereal bar and the Pepsi I’d guzzled hadn’t been enough sustenance for the day.

  “I think Elly May was a hillbilly, not a cowgirl. Let’s head up to that house, I’m starving.”

  She pointed to her still soaking wet hair and lifted an eyebrow. “I need to dry this mop first, but you can head up without me.”

  I knew that her hair would take a minimum of a half an hour to get even remotely dry, since she had so damn much of it. I was going to tell her that I would just wait for her when my stomach made another angry sound that was loud enough that even she heard it. She lifted both her eyebrows at me as I slapped a hand over the offending noise and felt heat work its way into my face.

  “Okay. I’ll head up and see if they have something I can shove in my face before my body starts to devour itself. I’ll let them know you’re running a little late.”

  She nodded and moved to the sink, where she watched me in the reflection as I made my way over to my new boots and shoved my feet into them. They were unlike anything that usually graced my feet, but I had to admit the little fringe at the base of the laces was super cute. I put my hands on my hips as she surveyed me in the glass with a grin.

  “You’re adorable, Leo. Thank you for trying, it really does me a lot.” There was a lightness in her tone, which had been missing ever since I had pulled the turtle move by ducking my head in my shell of misery. I ignored the rest of the world while I tried to pull together the edges of the wounds that cut far deeper than anyone realized.

  I huffed out a breath and made my way to the door. “Wish me luck. I hope I don’t get eaten by a bear or attacked by a mountain lion on the way to that log mansion.”

  She laughed and gave me a look in the mirror. “If you scream, I bet good money more than one of those boys in the tight Wranglers will come running to your rescue. It might be worth it just to try it out. Who doesn’t want to be saved by a sexy as hell cowboy?”

  I snorted as I pulled open the door. “Well, I’m still not convinced those guys are cowboys, so the chances are I’d have to save myself.” Something I was so sure I could do before Chris had rattled the very foundation of my belief in myself. Now, I wasn’t so sure I was up to the task of keeping myself safe and protecting those places that were too tender and soft. “I’ll see you in a few.”

  Em gave me a little wave over her shoulder. I winced at how loud the door sounded when it shut behind me, how clearly I could hear the tap of the heels from my boots on the wooden landing that led to the ground. It was so quiet, so soundless and still. I could hear my heart beating and each breath I took. I could hear the way my clothes moved against my skin and the way the light breeze moved through my hair as I made my way to the brightly illuminated main house. I was acutely aware now how easily any sound would travel without buildings and swarms of people to block it. My voice would carry all the way to the mountaintops when I spoke, so it was no wonder Cy and his brothers had heard my snarky comments from earlier.

  Say what you mean . . . Lane’s words floated through my head as I got closer and closer to the striking and imposing house. There was a wide porch which circled the entire front of the house, with several wooden chairs covered in what looked like horse blankets spread across the space. There were antique-looking lanterns burning with a soft glow, and someone had taken the time to scorch the brand that was associated with the property on each of the pickets of the wooden railings. The setting was straight out of an old western movie but nice enough and welcoming enough to appeal to a wide range of visitors. Whoever was in charge of the setting and staging of this ranch had put in painstaking time to get things just right, with no detail missed. The line between working ranch and vacation property had been traversed perfectly, and I was having a hard time seeing any of the men I’d met so far being responsible for that kind of knowing touch. It was something the CEOs I worked with every day spent millions of dollars trying to cultivate. Knowing how to appeal to a consumer and what would get them to part with their hard-earned money was the ultimate tool in a professional’s bag of tricks. It seemed like someone here had wielded it with a deft hand.

  I was running my hand over the smoothly milled wood of the railing on the steps that led up to the wood and iron front door. I was appreciating the way the wood felt, so warm under my hand. I was used to steel handrails that were sticky with Lord only knew what. It was like everything in this place had life to it, had some kind of soul that was absent from the institutionalized and severe buildings that crowded San Francisco’s skyline. I loved the city I called home, loved the quirky uniqueness of the rolling hills and dips, the varied history that came from living in a place founded by gold miners and dreamers, but it was nothing like this.

  I took a deep breath and was getting ready to walk up the front steps when the front door was suddenly flung open and I came face to face with the aggravatingly attractive not quite a cowboy. I couldn’t remember ever being around a bigger man or one who was so effortlessly impactful. It was like his presence and charisma obliterated every other thing that was
going on around me. For some reason, everything seemed to slow down and sharpen directly on him when he was present. The same thing had happened when I looked at his picture on the brochure. It made me uneasy. I didn’t like that he didn’t have to do anything to have every single thing inside of me, and lots of the outside parts of me, reacting to him like he was the most dynamic thing in the universe. It was startling and made my internal warning bells, which were all polished and ready to be put to use after the disaster that was Chris, jingle jangle loud and clear.

  “I was just coming to make sure you and your friend didn’t get lost along the way. There are a lot of dangerous things waiting to put their teeth into pretty woman when the sun goes down around here.” I liked the rasp in his voice a little too much but I didn’t care for the seductive warning in his tone at all. I tilted back my head to look up at him as he made his way to the top step so he could loom over me.

  “I’m fine. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I know when to run.” Or at least I used to know. Everything inside of me was telling me to hightail it away from this man as fast as I could. Remembering that I was supposed to be burying the hatchet, I forced a smile and cocked my head to the side in what I hoped was an engaging and friendly gesture. “Thank you for thinking of us and our well-being. That’s very hospitable of you.” I bit back the sharp, ‘finally’ that was hovering on the end of my tongue.

  A smirk that lifted one corner of his mouth crossed his face. It made my breath catch and my knees go weak. The man shouldn’t be allowed to look that good when his personality was so unpleasant. It wasn’t fair. He rubbed me the wrong way, but against my will I kind of enjoyed the fact he was rubbing me at all. I liked the friction and the way it made my blood warm.