Love on the Free Side

by Mariah Ankenman

  “I ha-have t-to go,” she choked out between sobs.

  Rising from the log, she started to make her way through the woods, back to her father’s truck. She heard the rustle and crunch of leaves as Tony followed her.

  “Bonita, please.”

  “No!” she screamed, stopping in her tracks and spinning to face him. Tears streamed down, blurring her vision, but she ignored them. Hurt gave way to anger. “Don’t ever call me that again. In fact,” she continued, the pain blocking out every other thought in her mind. “Don’t ever call me anything ever again. I never want to see you, ever. I hate you, Antonio Ortiz. You’re a bastard.”

  With that final insult, she turned and ran. As dangerous as it was to drive while crying so hard she could barely see, she did it. No way in hell could she stay there while he tried to talk to her, make her see whatever crazy idea he had in his head for why they had to break up.

  Thankfully, Peak Town was small, and she didn’t run into any traffic. Ignoring the concerned questions from her parents once she got home, she ran right to her room and flung herself on her bed, crying until her tears ran dry and her voice disappeared.

  There, on her childhood bed, caught between adolescence and adulthood, she made a vow to never again let herself be made a fool for love.

  Chapter 1

  Seven years later

  “Zoe, get that Flautas De Pollo out to table seven before it gets cold. Sven, watch that sauce, don’t let it burn. Marcos, let everyone know we’re out of the special for tonight.”

  Tony Ortiz continued to call out directions into the boisterous, chaotic kitchen. People ran back and forth placing orders and taking out plates of steaming hot food. Line cooks shouted out ingredients to runners while people hurried about, barely missing running into each other. To anyone else, it might look like a disaster waiting to happen, but to him, it was just another Friday night at Casa Sofía.

  He watched the play by play of the nightly kitchen staff, a sight that usually filled him with pride. This was his second successful restaurant in less than four years. At twenty-seven, it was unheard of for someone like him to have two incredibly popular eateries in New York. The restaurant business was a cutthroat game. Most places closed within a year of opening. Owners and investors lost their shirts in the food game.

  Not him.

  A year after opening Casa Isabella—named after his madré—he had customers lined out the door waiting hours to get a table. Two years ago, he finally had the capital to open a second restaurant, Casa Sofía—named after his abuéla. Both businesses had been booming ever since. Reservations were set weeks out, dignitaries and the rich and famous flocked to get a taste of his food. An achievement to be proud of, considering his humble beginnings. And he was proud.

  But something was missing.

  He glanced around the room as people hurried about their tasks. Everyone rushing, yet making sure every single thing they made was perfection. The food tasted delicious, the service impeccable, the atmosphere divine, and yet something in him…lacked. No other word for it. Here he stood in the middle of his dream, having accomplished so much in such a short time and he wasn’t happy.

  “Mr. Ortiz, you have a call.”

  He turned down the burner on the peppers sautéing on the stove in front of him. “Marcos, take over for me.”

  His sous chef grabbed the handle of the pan, barking orders to the kitchen staff. Seamless transition. Good people were hard to find, and he made sure he paid enough to keep the best. Marcos fit that category to a T.

  “Thank you, Heather.” He nodded to the small woman who worked the phone. “I’ll take it in my office.”

  She smiled, turning to head back out to her podium.

  His office was small, but he didn’t need much. A desk for paperwork and payroll, a filing cabinet, the tiny space suited his needs. The slim, black landline on his desk blinked red, indicating a call on hold. On weary legs, he shuffled to the chair, collapsing into it before picking up the cordless phone. Kitchen work meant staying on your feet for hours on end; no matter how fit a person, it always took a toll on a body.

  Pressing the button to open the call, he tried to keep the fatigue out of his voice when he spoke. “Hello?”

  “Tony, good to hear your voice again, man.”

  The tone sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite hear over the busy restaurant. He reached over and shut the door, closing out the clanking, yelling noises of the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry, who is this?”

  The man on the other end of the line laughed. “I guess it has been a while. It’s Colton Denning.”

  Recognition clicked, and his lips curled up in a smile. Colton Denning. The man and his brother ran a horse ranch out in Peak Town, Colorado. He would forever be grateful to the Denning brothers. Because of them, his uncle had been able to acquire a work visa for Tony to come to the United States. That allowed him his first steps to becoming a citizen.

  “Señor Denning, how are you?”

  A chuckled sounded over the line. “I’m good, Tony. I can see you haven’t changed much. I’ve told you to call me Colt for how many years now?”

  Almost a decade. Then again, he hadn’t been back to Peak Town in over six years, so the request had been long ago. Still, his mother raised him to respect his elders, and old habits died hard.

  “Anyway,” the cowboy continued, not waiting for a response. “I’m afraid I’m not calling to catch up. Something’s happened.”

  Immediately, his fatigue vanished, and he sat straight up in his chair, muscles tensing. “Yes?”

  “It’s Juan.”

  Those two words went crashing through him. “My uncle?” The only family he had left in this world. The man who gave him a fresh start, a new life. The surrogate father who helped raise him when his own ran out on him and his mother two months before he could even meet the man. His breath caught in his throat. “Is he—”

  “He’s fine,” Colton rushed to say. “I mean, he’s not fine fine. He injured his knee ligament.”

  “Knee ligament?”

  “Yeah.”

  The fog of fear cleared. For one heart-stopping moment, a sick sense of terror whispered he lost the last person in the world who loved him. Sure, he had friends in New York, acquaintances, the occasional date, but there were no real connections here for him. He’d been too busy working hard to make sure his restaurants succeeded to get entangled in any kind of relationship.

  “Why didn’t he call?” Shame started to creep in.

  Because I’m a shit nephew.

  Sure, he called his uncle every week, brought him out to visit once a year, but when the man got injured, he hadn’t reached out to Tony. What did that say about their relationship?

  “You know Juan.” A snort of laughter crackled from the phone. “He doesn’t want anyone to think he can’t handle things.”

  A world of truth in that statement. His entire family operated that way—had been that way. Now, his family consisted of him and his uncle. And where was he when his only living relative needed him?

  Thousands of miles away like a selfish ass.

  “Does he need help with the doctor bills?” He’d pay it, whatever his uncle needed. The man had taken care of him and his mother for years. He’d give all he owned, his very blood if necessary. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for the man.

  “Hell no, it was a work accident. Damn new stallion bucked him, and he fell wrong. Leg twisted in the fall. He tore or strained something. His doctor knows more about it.”

  Ouch. Ranch work held a wealth of danger. Tony learned that his first day when a mare almost clocked him in the family jewels.

  “Dade and I are taking care of all his medical bills, and he’s on paid leave.”

  He couldn’t stop the smile that curled his lips. The Denning brothers were good people. Working for them had been a pleasure, and he knew all their employees were treated with respect and fairness. Something he carried over into his own bu
siness.

  “That is very kind of you.”

  “Kind my ass. This place wouldn’t run without Juan. We need him back in fighting form as soon as possible. And that’s where you come in.”

  “Anything. What does he need?”

  “Juan needs someone to take him to physical therapy twice a week for a few months and to keep his ass relaxing like the doc says so he doesn’t try to do too much and mess up his recovery. Unfortunately, with the summer coming up and us one man short, we’ll be too busy. Maggie and Lizzy have the bakery and kids so—”

  “I’m on my way.”

  A relieved sigh came over the line. “Thanks, Tony.”

  “No thanks are needed. He is my family.” You drop everything for family—his mother taught him that. “I can be there tomorrow afternoon.”

  He already had flights pulled up on the computer in front of him.

  “That’s great, man.” Colton chuckled. “Juan’s going to be pissed I called you.”

  Let him. He would not abandon family in need. “Stubborn bastard should have called me himself.”

  “Yeah, but I knew he wouldn’t. Claimed he could take the bus to the doctor.”

  What a laugh. Peak Town only had one bus, and it ran twice a day. His uncle was just being stubborn.

  Another family trait.

  “I’ll be there tomorrow,” he said into the phone, clicking purchase on a flight that would get him into Denver International Airport at three in the afternoon. “Don’t tell him I’m coming.”

  “And risk him throwing his crutches at my head? Not likely.” The ranch owner laughed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Tony.”

  “Yes, goodbye, and thank you for calling.”

  “Anytime.” There was a pause, and just when he was sure the other man had hung up, Colton spoke once more. “It’ll be good to see you again.”

  There it was. The thing he’d been missing. Earlier in the kitchen, as he watched the strong, successful business he built, a hollow ached had filled him. The thing his very profitable restaurants didn’t have…togetherness. Sure, he catered to the wealthy and connected, but none of those people knew him as a person, none of them cared. He wasn’t making food to make them smile or because he appreciated them. He did it for profit, the bottom line.

  Nothing wrong with making a buck, but the emptiness of his life sank in at that moment. Cooking used to be something he enjoyed. Putting a smile on someone’s face as they sank their teeth into a dish you made especially for them was why he started in this career. Back in Peak Town, when he worked at the cupcake shop, people used to stop in just to chat. They’d catch up while enjoying a pastry, and he delighted in the sight of the faces as they enjoyed the fruits of his labor.

  He didn’t get to see any of that here. Stuck back in the kitchen all day, he only saw his customers when they called him out to thank the chef. And even then, their thanks usually came because they wanted to show him how big and important they were.

  For the first time, he realized how truly unhappy he was. Glancing up at the silver picture frame on his desk holding the smiling face of his mother, he swore.

  “I am sorry madré.” For so many things.

  Sorry he couldn’t bring her to America before the cancer ravaging her body claimed her life. Sorry he let himself fall into a position where he let money matter over everything else. But most of all, he was sorry for all the years he would never have with her.

  Life could be so unfair at times.

  “I will go take care of Uncle, I swear.”

  Because to his mother, family had been everything. It shamed him to know his uncle needed help and had not called. The man had his pride, but he had to wonder if his uncle’s reluctance to ask for help was because Tony had not been back to Peak Town in over half a decade.

  He had a reason for staying far away from the humble little town, which gave him his start in America. Not because the place was small or isolated. No, hell, his reason was stupid, because she probably didn’t even live there anymore. No, he’d bet Jamie Thompson was off living some grand life. Probably married with kids and running a hospital or something. At nineteen, she’d been the smartest person he knew. The most beautiful, too.

  Light brown eyes and heart shaped lips filled his vision. His fingers itched, and he swore he could still feel her silky smooth skin under his hands, even after all these years. The girl who got away.

  The girl he pushed away.

  For her own good.

  She didn’t see it then, but he knew he’d been holding her back. Their relationship lasted just over a year. The best damn year of his life. He didn’t regret what he did; it had to be done. The only thing that pained him still, was remembering the heartbreak in her eyes when he broke it off. The hurt he’d seen still tore at him to this day.

  So, once he left, he’d stayed away from Peak Town. Out of respect for Jamie. The place had been her hometown, and he never wanted to make her feel uncomfortable by his presence there. Now, circumstances had changed, and circumstances called him back to the quiet little mountain town. He doubted she still lived there. Last he heard, she obtained a PhD and was interning at some fancy clinic somewhere.

  The Peak Town grapevine had long branches.

  The printer beeped, spitting out his flight itinerary. Ticket procured, he stood and left his office. He needed to talk to his sous chef. Some changes needed to be made, schedules rearranged, but he wasn’t worried. He knew his restaurants would run smoothly without him. He hired the proper people to ensure that.

  For now, the time had come to do something he vowed never to do again.

  Return to Peak Town, Colorado.

  Chapter 2

  “Jamie Thompson, as I live and breathe.”

  Jamie glanced up, a smile curving her lips as she recognized the sweet old woman walking down the street toward her.

  “Hi, Ellen. How are things?”

  The co-owner of the best diner in Peak Town stopped inches in front of her. A grin graced age-wrinkled lips, and she was momentarily stunned when the old woman pulled her in for a hug with more force than one would think of such a small-framed person.

  “How are things? She asks as if I haven’t seen the child in over three years.”

  A huff of breath grazed her ear as she leaned into the embrace, squeezing the town’s surrogate grandmother back.

  “You can’t come back into town after so long and ask a body ‘how’s things’ like I just saw you yesterday.”

  “Sorry.” She bit her lip at the reprimand. “I know it’s been a while. I meant to visit more, but I’ve been really busy.”

  Ellen arched one gray eyebrow. “So I hear, Doctor Thompson. Finished your program in record time, too, the way I heard it.”

  Of course she knew. Peak Town was small, not much to do but gossip, and Merle’s Diner—which Ellen owned and operated with her husband—was the center of all news. True or speculative.

  She’d been back home for less than twenty-four hours and everyone already knew her business. Some things never changed.

  “I may have accelerated my program.” It should have taken her eight years of schooling plus another two of internship and residency, but she powered through, taking extra courses and even summer classes in order to finish early. The past two years, she had been working at a state-run clinic in northern Colorado. Now that she had all her credentials and licenses, she was ready to start her dream.

  “So, are you just popping in to say hi before scampering off for another few years or will we be seeing more of your beautiful face around these parts?”

  Classic Ellen, no beating around the bush.

  A mixture of guilt and warmth settled low in her gut. The not-so-subtle berating came from a place of love, she knew. It warmed her soul to be in a place where people cared.

  “I’m staying for good, Ellen. And I’m sorry if I left last visit without saying goodbye.”

  Cool blue eyes assessed her. “Apology accepted as long as you tell
me what you’re up to these days.”

  Laughter bubbled out of her. “What? You mean you don’t already know?”

  “There’s speculation about town.” The old woman shrugged. “Some folks think you’re coming home to live with your parents because you couldn’t hack the city life, others say you’re running from an ex-lover.”

  Wow, the grapevine couldn’t be more wrong.

  She most certainly was not moving back in with her parents. Nothing insulting, because she loved her mom and dad to pieces, but she was a grown woman who had been on her own for a long time now. As for the ex-lover…she’d admit some slight truth to that. She had left a man in the city, but he wasn’t a lover, ex or otherwise.

  “Haven’t the people of this town found anything better to do than gossip?”

  Ellen stared, patiently waiting for her response.

  Because she loved the old lady—and because she could barely contain her excitement—Jamie smiled, pointing down the street. “I’m heading to the bank to sign the final paperwork on the deed to my new ranch.”

  Twin brows climbed high up the wrinkled forehead. “All that schooling and you come back home to be a cowgirl?”

  In her heart, she’d always be a cowgirl. You could take the girl away from the horses, but you couldn’t take the horses out of the girl’s soul.

  “Not exactly. I’m opening up an equine therapy ranch to help troubled youth. We’re going to host camps during school breaks and provide services for veterans and other people of need throughout the rest of the year.”

  Perhaps it was a trick of the bright midday sun, but Jamie could have sworn she saw tears in Ellen’s eyes.

  “Oh my girl, I always knew you had a heart the size of the Front Range.” Suddenly, the woman pulled her into a fierce hug. “Bless you child. If you need anything, any help at all, you don’t hesitate to call. Yes?”

  She nodded, sniffling. Dang sun got in her eyes, too. “I’ll be sure to do that, Ellen. Thanks.”