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by Tina Leonard

  Connie wasn’t used to being accountable to anyone but her father, so it took a second to talk herself into answering. The woman was just being nosy.

  “I’ve got a room reserved at the hotel in Pine Ridge,” Connie replied, thinking how ironic that had to sound to anyone who was listening.

  “Pine Ridge?” Miss Joan repeated incredulously. The expression on her face went from disbelief to dismissive. “That’s at least fifty miles away from here. You can’t be driving fifty miles at the end of the day,” Miss Joan informed her authoritatively. “You’ll be too damn tired, might hit something you didn’t intend to.”

  As opposed to something she had intended to hit? Connie wondered. She shrugged in response. “I’m afraid it can’t be helped.”

  “Sure it can,” Miss Joan insisted. “You can come and stay with me and my husband. I’ve got an extra bedroom you can have. No trouble at all,” she added as if the discussion was over and the course of action already decided.

  But it wasn’t decided at all. Again, Connie could only stare at the other woman, completely stunned. How could this Miss Joan just come out and offer her a bed under her roof? Things like that just weren’t done where she came from.

  Wasn’t the woman afraid she might be taking in a thief—or worse? Apparently, people around here were far less cautious.

  “But you don’t know me,” Connie pointed out.

  Miss Joan snorted as if that made no difference at all.

  “Finn here seems to trust you, and that’s good enough for me,” the older woman told her. “Besides, you just said you were building a hotel here. That’ll put some of our boys to work, earning more money than they have in a long while, and that’s really good enough for me. Especially if you include some of those boys on the reservation. They’re a proud bunch, but they need work just like the others.” Miss Joan leveled a gaze at the younger woman. “Whatever you need,” she told Connie, “you come check with me first. I’ll see that you get it.”

  With that, Miss Joan took her leave and sauntered away.

  Finn could almost see what his table companion was thinking by the stunned expression on her face. Survivors of a hurricane had the exact same expression.

  “Well, that’s Miss Joan all right,” he commented. “She’s pretty much a force of nature. But she means well. She comes through, too. And just so you know, you wouldn’t be the first person who’s stayed with her when they first came to town.”

  Connie didn’t care if the woman had a guest registry a mile long, she wasn’t about to accept anyone’s charity. “Thanks, but I do have that hotel room reserved, and I don’t mind the drive.”

  The latter statement wasn’t really true. Connie very much did mind the drive, especially since she was going to be doing it at night. She was, perforce, independent, but that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t have preferred not having to drive a long, lonely, relatively unknown stretch of road in the dark. But she had no choice—unless she got a pup tent and camped out.

  What she did plan on getting sent down, once the work got underway, was an on-site trailer. She’d definitely be able to sleep in it. That way, all she’d have to do was step outside her door, and she would be at work. And once her day was over, her bed wouldn’t be far away.

  “Suit yourself,” Finn was saying. “But if I know Miss Joan, her offer stands and will continue to stand until either the hotel is finished or you actually move into someone’s place here in Forever.”

  Connie paused for a moment, captivated by what he was saying despite the fact that her mind was racing around a mile a minute, pulling together myriad details and things she had to take care of before this work got fully underway.

  She was having a hard time accepting what he was telling her. “Are you people really this open and generous?”

  The corner of Finn’s mouth rose in an amused semismile, just like the one, he was told, that on occasion graced his older brother’s face.

  “I wouldn’t know about open and generous,” he confessed. “We see it as business as usual,” Finn told her matter-of-factly. “Everyone just looks out for everyone else here in Forever.”

  Any moment now, the people here were going to join hands and sing, Connie thought sarcastically.

  “Yes, but I’m not an insider,” she pointed out—needlessly, in her opinion. “I’m an outsider.”

  He laughed at her statement. “An outsider is just an insider who hasn’t come in yet,” Finn informed her very simply.

  He was kidding, right? “That’s very quaint,” she told him.

  He took no offense at the dismissive note in her voice. Finn had learned that some people needed a little more time to come around. He had no doubts that once her hotel was framed, she would see things differently. He could wait.

  “And also true,” he added.

  “If you say so.” Connie looked down at her plate. Dinner had somehow gotten eaten without her taking much note of it or of the process of consuming it.

  Okay, it was time to call it a day for now, Connie decided. She discreetly pushed back her plate, away from her.

  “Thank you for dinner,” she told him, rising to her feet. “I’m going to start heading back to Pine Ridge now, but I’ll be back here in the morning. We can start signing up workers then.”

  Finn was on his feet, as well. Knowing the prices on the menu by heart, he took out several bills and left them on the table.

  “Sounds good.” Getting up from the table, he walked her to the front door, acutely aware that Miss Joan was watching their every move, no matter where she was in the diner. “Where do you plan to set up?”

  She stepped across the threshold. “Set up?”

  He nodded. “I figure I can spread the word, round up a bunch of people for you to interview, but you’re going to need to set up somewhere so you can conduct these interviews.”

  He was right; she needed a central place, somewhere everyone was familiar with and felt comfortable in. It took Connie less than a minute to think of the perfect place.

  “How about at Murphy’s? Could you open early for me?” she asked, turning directly toward him. “I could conduct interviews there, although if you vouch for the people you bring to me, I don’t foresee the interview process taking very long.”

  She supposed that her father would have accused her of being crazy. She’d had just met this man, and she was behaving as if he was a lifelong trusted friend. But there was just something about Finn Murphy that told her he was the kind of man who always came through, who wouldn’t let a person down, not even for his own personal gain. If he told her that someone was worth hiring, she saw no reason to doubt his assessment.

  “Murphy’s is doable,” he told her.

  Brett might take some convincing, Finn thought, but he had no reason to think that his brother wouldn’t come around. After all, this was ultimately for the good of the town, something that always interested Brett.

  “How soon are you looking to get started?” he asked.

  “Yesterday,” Connie answered.

  He believed her.

  “Then we have some catching up to do,” he told her, walking her to her car.

  * * *

  IT WAS A long drive, Connie thought as she finally saw the lights of Pine Ridge come into view in the distance.

  It wasn’t a drive she relished. Maybe she’d see about having that trailer brought in as soon as possible. Granted, the road between Forever and Pine Ridge was pretty empty, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t find herself accidentally driving into some sort of a ditch, especially if she fell asleep. The road was exceedingly deserted and boring. Monotony put her to sleep, hence her problem.

  Mornings wouldn’t be a problem. She’d be fresh in the morning, far less likely to have an accident. But even so, it was still time wasted, time she was t
aking away from getting the actual hotel completed.

  For the good of the job, Connie began to seriously entertain taking Miss Joan up on her offer. God knew she valued her privacy, and she liked keeping to herself, separating the public Connie from the private one, but this was business and, as such, she was willing to sacrifice a lot of her own personal beliefs.

  Anything to show her father she could live up to her word and be the asset to the company he was always saying he wanted.

  The first thing she did when she got into her room at the hotel—besides immediately kick off her shoes and allow her toes to sink into the rug—was place a call to her father’s business manager on her cell phone.

  Stewart Emerson answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

  The familiar, deep voice vibrated against her ear, magically creating a comfort zone for her. “Stewart, it’s Connie.”

  Instant warmth flooded his voice. “By the tone of your voice, I take it that all systems are a go.”

  She laughed. Good old Stewart. The man seemed to be able to read her thoughts before she ever said anything. She’d discovered long ago that a simple hello could tell the man volumes.

  Ever since she could remember, Emerson was like the father that Calvin Carmichael wasn’t, the man who made her feel that she had a safety net beneath her if she ever really needed one.

  She knew without being told that he had her back in every project she had ever gotten involved in. He’d always made sure that her father only received the positive reports.

  Granted, the senior Carmichael paid his salary, but Calvin Carmichael’s lifelong associate reasoned that his boss’s daughter had a great deal to contend with as it was; he just wanted to make it a little easier for her. He knew the sort of demands that Carmichael placed on his daughter—and he also knew that each time she came close to meeting those demands, Carmichael would raise the bar that much higher.

  He had watched her grow from a little girl to the woman she had become. Watched, too, as she heartbreakingly attempted to cull and gain her father’s favor, only to fail, time and again. Carmichael was the type to drive himself—and everyone in his world—hard. It made for a very successful businessman—and at the same time, a rather unsuccessful human being.

  Emerson strived to somehow prevent the same sort of fate from ultimately finding Carmichael’s daughter.

  “So tell me how everything’s going,” Emerson encouraged.

  “I found someone in town who’s willing to help hire the right people for the crew,” she told him.

  “Does he have any kind of experience with construction?” Emerson asked her.

  “I came across him rebuilding a ranch house. I was really impressed with what I saw,” she told him.

  “Are you talking about the man, or the job he did?” He put the question to her good-naturedly.

  “The job he did. I don’t have time for that other stuff,” she told him.

  “Maybe you should make time,” Emerson tactfully suggested.

  “Someday, Stewart,” she promised strictly to placate the man. “But not today. Anyway, from the looks of it, the man seems pretty skilled.”

  “And you can work with him?” Emerson questioned.

  “I think so,” she answered honestly. There was only one problem in the foreseeable future. “But I’m still worried that it might be hard meeting the deadline Dad set down.”

  “You’ll do it,” Emerson told her with no hesitation whatsoever.

  “Thanks, Stewart.” And then, radiant even though there was no one to see her, or to appreciate the sight, she added, “Hearing you say that means a lot to me.”

  “I’m not just saying it, Connie. I know you. You’re just as determined and stubborn to succeed as your old man. The only difference is that you’re still human,” he qualified. And then he warned her, “Don’t drive yourself too hard.”

  She smiled to herself. “I won’t.”

  There was a slight pause, and then he asked her, “Are you remembering to eat?”

  Connie caught herself laughing at that. “Now you’re beginning to sound like my mother.”

  “There are worse people to sound like,” Emerson responded. There was a fond note in his voice, the way there always was when the conversation turned toward her mother.

  Connie had long suspected that there had been a connection between Emerson and her mother. He’d never actually said as much, and she hadn’t asked him. But one day, Connie promised herself, she intended to ask him. Not to pry, but to feel closer to not just her mother, but to the man she was speaking with, as well.

  Her father had been no kinder to her mother than he had been to her brother, or to her. It would make her feel better to know that while she was alive, her mother’d had an ally in Stewart, someone she could turn to for emotional support, even if not a single word had been exchanged between them at the time.

  That was Stewart Emerson’s power, she thought now. He could make a person feel safe and protected without saying a single word to that effect. He conveyed it by his very presence.

  “How about the supplies?” she asked, suddenly stifling a yawn. “Are they still coming?”

  “They’re already on their way,” Emerson confirmed. “Now if you’ve had dinner, I suggest you get to bed and get some rest. If I know you, you’re going to drive yourself relentlessly tomorrow—and all the tomorrows after that,” he added.

  Because no one ever fussed over her, she allowed herself a moment just to enjoy Stewart behaving like an overprotective mother hen.

  “Been looking into your crystal ball again, Stewart?”

  “Don’t need one where you’re concerned, Connie,” he told her. “I know you like a book.”

  She didn’t bother stifling her yawn this time. Instead, still holding her cell phone to her ear, Connie stretched out on her bed for just a moment. With little encouragement, she could allow her eyes to drift shut.

  “You need new reading material, Stewart,” she told him with affection.

  “No, I don’t. You are by far my very favorite book. You don’t get rid of a favorite book, Connie, you treasure it and make sure nothing happens to it. Now say good-night and close your phone,” he instructed.

  “Good night,” Connie murmured obediently.

  She was asleep ten seconds after she hit End on her cell phone.

  Chapter Seven

  Connie was not unaccustomed to sleeping in hotels. In the past few years, she’d had to stay in more than her share of hotel rooms, most of which were indistinguishable from the hotel room she now had in Pine Ridge. Despite all this, it was not a restful night for her.

  Exhausted though she was, Connie found she couldn’t sleep straight through the night. Instead, she kept waking up almost every hour on the hour. The cause behind her inability to sleep in something more than fitful snatches was not a mystery to her. She was both excited and worried about what the next day held.

  There was a great deal riding on this for her and although, despite her father’s mind games Connie did have faith in herself, she was not narcissistic enough to feel that everything would turn out all right in the end—just because. That was her father’s way of operating, not hers.

  As a rule, Connie tried to proceed confidently, but keeping what to do in a worst-case scenario somewhere in the back of her mind. She knew better than to believe that the occasion would never come up. She was also well aware that while she seemed to have the beginnings of a decent relationship going with the man in charge of the crew, she wasn’t exactly home free in that department yet.

  Added to that, she wanted the people who would be working for her to like her. It just stood to reason that employees worked a lot better for people they liked and admired than for people whom they feared and who rode roughshod over them. This would not be an ongoing job for the
people she hired but rather a one-time thing. She had to get the very best out of them in the time that she had.

  And, if that wasn’t enough to prey on her unguarded mind, there was that added thing that kept buzzing around in her brain. She had no succinct description for this feeling, other than to call it unsettling. She could, however, easily trace it back to its source: one Finn Murphy. There was something about him, something above and beyond his capability, his craftsmanship and his obvious connection to the men of the town.

  Though she would have rather not put a label on it, Connie had always been honest and straightforward with people—and that included herself.

  With that in mind, she forced herself to admit that there was no other way to describe it. The man was sexy—not overtly, not in a showy, brash manner, but more in an inherent way. It was part of the fabric of his makeup. Sexiness seemed to be just ingrained in him. There seemed to be no way to separate the trait from the man. They were, apparently, one and the same. But no matter how she described it, how she qualified it, the bottom line was that she was attracted to him.

  This was going to be a problem, she thought uncomfortably.

  Only if you let it be, her inner voice, the one that always kept her on an even keel, told her firmly.

  The internal argument continued back and forth for the duration of her morning drive from Pine Ridge to Forever, blocking out whatever songs were being played on the radio station.

  The argument was so intense, she wasn’t even aware of the time as it went by. One moment she was half asleep, slipping behind the steering wheel of her car, aware that she wanted to arrive in town early, the next, miraculously, she found herself there, parking in front of Murphy’s, wondering if Finn had remembered their conversation about conducting the interviews in his establishment.

  She shouldn’t have worried, Connie realized as she got out of the vehicle. There was a line of men that went out the saloon’s front doors and wound its way down the street.

  Some of the men were standing in clusters, talking, others were on the ground, sitting cross-legged and giving the impression that they had been sitting there for a while. A handful looked as if they had just stepped out of a movie about cattle ranchers from the last century, complete with cowboy hats, worn jeans and dusty boots, and still others appeared downright hungry for work.