Her heart clenched.
But before she could ask Shane for clarification, Davey ran to the cave’s opening and pointed to the cemetery. “Are we going to dig up the man who shot Hobart?”
Every adult answered similarly. “No.”
* * *
“WHY DO YOU have your suitcase?”
It was Mitch who asked the question, but the common room was filled with Monroes and they all turned toward Shane.
“I’m leaving.” Shane had arrived at a place of peace with his grandfather. He knew the discovery of Merciless Mike’s gold would pique the curiosity of the Monroe family. The rest of the dissenting eight would want to come and see for themselves.
His news about leaving gave rise to a cacophony of objections, which made Shane feel good. But not good enough to stay.
“I can’t stay any longer.” Shane needed challenges. He craved working in a business that mattered to him. And perhaps selfishly, he wanted to be appreciated wherever he was.
“But...” Jonah reached him first. “What if you remember something about Harlan or Hobart that helps my script?”
“I’ll call,” Shane reassured him with a hearty hug.
“But...” Laurel used her baby bump to get close enough to sling an arm around Shane’s neck. “You’re going to miss my babies.”
“You can send pictures.” He gave her a gentle squeeze.
Bo crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re giving up on Franny.”
“I’m not giving up.” But Shane’s gaze slid to the floor. “I’m stepping aside for someone more suitable.” A man who fit into a place like Second Chance.
“Sounds like—” Mitch shook his hand “—you’re giving up on you.”
Shane swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Actually, I’m giving myself a second chance. Pun intended.”
Mitch’s daughter, Gabby, ran out of their apartment and threw herself into his arms. “You’re the only person who ever wanted to learn about which of the boards on the inn’s stairs were silent and which ones make a noise.”
Because Shane liked the freedom of no one monitoring his movements and knew it made Mitch jittery. He bent to the preteen’s level, ruffling her strawberry-blond hair. “Someday, you’re going to find a guy your age to teach all the inn’s secrets to. And then your father better watch out.”
Mitch frowned.
They clustered around him as he carried his suitcase out the door and to his mutilated SUV.
“Are you going to get rid of this thing?” Jonah ran a hand over a crumpled fender. “I’m kind of fond of it.”
“If I do, I’ll give you first crack at it,” Shane promised.
There was another round of hugs.
A familiar truck rumbled down the highway and turned into a parking space at the Bent Nickel. Three familiar boys tumbled out, calling greetings to Shane before disappearing inside the diner. A woman wearing a cowboy hat sat behind the wheel, staring in Shane’s direction.
The pack of friends and family surrounding him dissipated. Shane stowed his suitcase in the rear compartment and closed the hatch.
His heart felt heavy.
The time had come to say goodbye.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
FRANNY HAD KNOWN this day would come.
She just hadn’t expected it to be today.
Shane walked toward her, every step a crushing blow to her heart.
Willing herself not to cry, Franny hopped out of the truck and went to meet him on the sidewalk in front of the general store. Mack was in the window organizing a display of gold-panning equipment. Not that there was gold in the Salmon River, but that was probably the only gold-related merchandise she had on hand.
Franny reached past the heartache for a smile.
Shane reached past her smile to clasp her hand. “I suppose every good story has a fitting end.”
“This one was a doozy.” She catalogued every beloved angle of his face, every wave in his hair.
“It wouldn’t have been as sweet if I hadn’t met Franny Clark, rodeo queen and winner of Best Mom in the West.”
He always said the right things to lift her spirits. “What am I going to do when you’re gone?” The words were wrenched out of her.
Shane startled, like Bolt did when surprised by a sudden plop of rain from the porch eaves. To his credit, he recovered quickly. “You don’t want me to hang around. I’d annoy you with facts and logistics.” His hand fell away from hers, along with his gaze and the strength in his voice. “No one ever wants me to stay.”
“That’s not true. That was your dad. And only your dad.” She wanted to fight for him to find a home in Second Chance, but not if it would make him unhappy. And if he was leaving, she wanted him to know he had worth. To his family. To her.
She expected Shane’s expression to harden, to close off, and the look in his eyes to turn jaded. She expected him to pull himself up tall and shield himself behind that mantle of Monroe pride.
He touched the back of his head instead. “Nobody wants me to stay here,” he amended, almost absently.
“Then they’re stupid.” He was caring and clever. He was brave and honorable. She was going to have words with those council members.
“I’m too intense. I push and push to get things done.” He wouldn’t look at her.
She wanted him to look at her. To stare into her eyes with that warm gaze that said he saw the woman beneath the hat, not the rancher, not the mom. “I like getting things done,” she said quietly.
“I wear people down. They want to relax. They want to play. They want to ski in Aspen or, worse, lie on the beach in St. Tropez and do nothing.” He ran his hand up the back of his head, rubbing the wavy locks on top of his crown.
He didn’t know how to unwind.
She almost smiled. “You don’t have anything to prove to me.”
“Don’t I?” He pointed north, in the direction of the Bucking Bull. “What good am I here?”
What good am I to you?
That’s what he didn’t say. “You’re everything that’s good.”
He shook his head. “I hurt Davey’s feelings yesterday. I almost got my cousin killed riding one of your bulls. And...” His gaze landed on her. “I needed you to rescue me. Twice. With your rope.”
She’d been prepared to argue, since all of his other statements required an argument. He’d hurt Davey’s feelings, but with words her son had needed to hear about being careful and staying safe. And it wasn’t as if Franny wasn’t partially to blame for Bo riding that bull. She’d wanted a miracle and she’d thought a volunteer would be able to provide what she needed.
“I rescued you,” she said simply. But it was anything but simple. “It’s what the rider in the ring does when a bull turns deadly. I did my job.” That didn’t mean her heart hadn’t raced and her body hadn’t been flooded with adrenaline. That’s what the owner of a ranch did. They protected people. How she wished she could protect him every day. “I did my job, Shane.”
“And that’s just it.” His gaze finally landed on her, but there was no warmth to it. There was only frustration. “I don’t have a job here. I can’t ride like you. I can’t rope like you. I can’t look at an animal and see whether or not they need medical attention. I don’t know how to dehorn or deworm farm animals.” He eyed Mack, who was still in the window and pretending to pan for gold. “You want me to stay?”
She hadn’t asked, but her heart leaped that he’d considered it.
Shane shook his head. “I’d just be another burden for you to carry.”
“That’s not true.” But Franny couldn’t think of an argument to prove it.
“The truth is that I like being in charge. I love being in charge. There is nothing in this world I’d rather do than run my family’s empire. Make decisions about how much to invest i
n oil this year. Have the final say about what advertising to run for the hotels. Lead the acquisitions team to expand our holdings. But this... I don’t know how to run a ranch.”
That got her back up. “I’m not asking you to.”
He drew back slightly, as shocked by her outburst as she was.
Franny spared a glance to Mack, who wasn’t even pretending not to listen. Her hands were pressed to the glass.
“Shane, I run the Bucking Bull. And except for the lack of trained bulls these past few years, I do a pretty good job.”
“Well, you were grieving.” Shane tried to make an excuse for her.
She scowled. “I know I can do better. Zeke is back and Emily might have gotten the town out of her system.”
“You’ve got a good team.”
A team that didn’t include Shane. Exasperation flooded her system. She darted to the general store, opened the door and shouted at Mack, “If you don’t mind your own business right now, Mackenzie, I’m going to do all my grocery shopping online!”
Mack blinked, and then climbed out of her display window.
Franny turned back to Shane, forcing a smile on her face, although it felt weak and watery. “The fact of the matter is...”
He’d said he couldn’t help her on the ranch, but from the day he’d been stranded by the rain he’d given her advice on how to run a business, how to break overwhelming things down into manageable chunks, how forgiving she should be of past mistakes made by herself and others. He needed to hear that he’d made an impact on her life. He needed to contribute. And neither she, nor the town, had let him do that.
“The fact is, Shane.” She gentled her voice. “You want to be a CEO, but that position at the Bucking Bull is already taken. I decide what happens at the ranch. How many animals to have. How much feed to buy. Which vendors to use. I don’t need another man in charge...”
I need the man I love by my side.
Words escaped her, the same way the air had escaped her moments before.
I need Shane by my side.
But, Shane...
He took a step back. Perhaps he saw the helpless longing in her eyes. Perhaps he knew his limits better than she knew them.
“The fact is...” Franny wasn’t sure what the fact was any longer, but her mouth didn’t seem to know that. Her mouth kept moving. Ahead of her brain. Maybe even ahead of her heart. “Shane, I like running the ranch. I know I was still grieving, and things got to be too much, what with the decision to send Davey to an expensive camp, Gertie’s stroke and my lackluster training efforts. I put family first, but I know what I have to do now. I know the steps I need to take.”
“Good,” he said gruffly. Softly. Without looking her in her eye.
“The fact is...” She wanted to be touching him. She wanted him to touch her. But now, in this moment, she needed to stand alone and say her piece, if only to give voice to the thoughts and feelings she’d kept inside herself for too long. “Nobody thought I could do this after Kyle died. Not really. Nobody... Except for you.”
“So...” The warmth returned to his gaze. “Where does that leave us?” Ever the pragmatist.
“I don’t know. I want to run things here. You need to run things...” She waved a helpless hand.
“We’re back to where we started,” he said softly.
Those gentle eyes. They were going to be her undoing. She worked hard to swallow back her tears, knowing they wouldn’t change anything Shane chose to do.
“We agreed—several times—that we weren’t right for each other.” He turned away.
She grabbed his arm. “Just because I don’t need you to balance my checkbook or help train a bull for the rodeo doesn’t mean I don’t need you.”
That I don’t love you.
He frowned. “To do what? Walk a step behind you? Be there to pat you on the back and say ‘good job’? Warm your bed at night?” He gently pulled his arm free. “I can’t not have a goal, a purpose...”
“A what?” Why didn’t she understand? It was for the best that he was leaving, after all.
His frown deepened into a category-five scowl. “I can’t not be in charge of something of value. Of something important. Like my family’s holdings.” And then he faced her and took her hands. “I can’t not be Shane Monroe. This town has been eating me up inside since I arrived because the people here don’t want me to change anything, not even if it means they’ll be happier in the long run with a more stable income and a better quality of life.”
And him staying would just be the same. He could learn how to ranch. He could go through the motions of ranch life. But it would never satisfy him deep down inside. No matter how much he loved her.
If he loved her.
“I understand.” She stretched up on her toes and kissed him one last time. “It’s got to tear you up inside owning a place and having no say.” She traced the scar on his chin with her thumb. It was the one thing about him that wasn’t perfect. And yet, it fit who he was. “Go out and conquer something. Let those bullies know they can’t get anything past you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Shh.” Franny pressed her fingers over his lips even as she stepped back into her own space, her own life. “Go out and do something grand, Shane. Earn the respect of your family. Let them see who you really are inside.” The way he’d let her see. The way he’d won her heart. “There is no better Monroe to run the world.” There couldn’t be.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, lingering.
Franny tried to smile. “I’ve got to feed the chickens and you’ve got to do whatever future CEOs do.”
He nodded but didn’t move away. His gaze was full of love and longing and regret.
They hadn’t exchanged pretty words. They hadn’t allowed themselves to make promises. But there was love between them. It was there. In his eyes.
“You need to leave,” she said, firmly this time, hoping that persistence would keep her heart from breaking in front of him.
“Go!” Anger rose up like a wave. “Go!” Or she wouldn’t have the heart to set him free.
He did turn away then, making her regret her anger.
But it was the only thing that had severed the ties between them for good. The only thing that propelled him to a place where he could move forward and be happy.
Her knight got into his SUV, that battle-scarred, noble black steed, and drove away.
She repeated the question she’d asked him earlier, only this time she asked it of the wind. “What am I going to do when you’re gone?”
She had the rest of her life to find out.
* * *
SHANE DROVE AWAY from Second Chance feeling as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest.
Who needs a heart when you have a business to run? A legacy to uphold?
None of that seemed important now. He would be the businessman his grandfather had been.
Shane stopped at the overlook on top of the mountain pass. From here, the Sawtooth Mountains rose up across the valley in their forbidding grandeur. In the meadow across the river, a pair of coyotes ran toward cover. He wouldn’t wake listening to their song anymore.
From here, Second Chance looked small, just a piece of roof breaking the tree line here or there. Just a thin curl of smoke from a chimney. The biggest structure, the Lodgepole Inn, stood next to the river and Sled Hill. It was Tuesday. Mitch would have chili on the stove and a small fire in the fireplace. Mack would be rearranging her store window to attract customers. Ivy would be wiping down counters at the Bent Nickel Diner, talking to Roy while he finished his coffee and stared out at the near empty highway.
From here, he could see it all. He could feel the memories closing up, ready to be stored away. Another chapter in his life was over. Another set of friends left behind as he moved on.
From here, he could
imagine Franny’s truck driving along the river toward home later this afternoon.
Adam would be humming in the back seat. Charlie would be talking nonstop about video games. Davey would be staring out the window and dreaming about what he’d do one day when the ranch was his, what he’d do with all that gold. And Franny...
She’d be smiling tightly because she wouldn’t want the boys to catch on to her upset. She’d have a firm grip on the wheel and a schedule in her head regarding what needed to be done in the next few hours, the next few days, the rest of her life.
A life without him.
Grandpa Harlan’s words came back to him. The sentiment that people often forgot to say they care.
I never told Franny I love her.
Grandpa Harlan had been a wealthy man. He’d married strong women who’d pursued their own individual careers—the actress, the pilot, the politician and the oil heiress who ran a national charity. And he’d fostered their dreams while pursuing his own.
Had his grandfather made mistakes? Yes.
He’d lost a brother and left behind a friend. But he’d returned sixty years later and made amends. Or tried to.
Sixty years was a long time to carry guilt and regret.
Sixty years...
By that time, Franny’s hair would be white. She’d still be as lean as a string bean and just as tough. She’d have her family around her at the Bucking Bull. There’d be a new Buttercup in the barn and a new set of boys running around the ranch yard. Davey would run the show and she’d push him, the same way Gertie pushed Franny now. She’d sit by the fire in Gertie’s chair, alone. She’d sit by the fire and think of Shane. There might be a business magazine in the rack, tattered from repeated reading. She’d pick it up and stroke a hand over the picture of Shane’s face on the cover, touch the gray at his temples. She’d ignore the headline about his latest corporate takeover and stare into his eyes.
But she wouldn’t be staring into his real eyes.
She wouldn’t be holding his real body close.
She wouldn’t have someone to bring her coffee in the morning, to make sure she ate, to make sure she remembered to take care of herself in the midst of caring for everyone else and running a successful ranch.
Lassoed by the Would-Be Rancher--A Clean Romance Page 22
