by Liz Isaacson
She wore a look of anguish on her face. “No, I can do this. I only have to work at the employment office until the end of the year, and I’ll be out from under the debt. I can do this.”
“Of course you can,” Wes said. “You’re strong and capable. But it’s okay to ask for help too.”
“I know.” But she sighed again, and Wes wasn’t sure she knew it was okay to ask for help. At least not help from him. “Anyway, my boyfriend before that was named Jay. At least that’s what he told me. It was not his real name, and to this day, I don’t know his real name.”
“What in the world?” Wes asked.
“Yeah, exactly,” Bree said. “And the worst part was that I dated him for six months. Six months, and I didn’t know the guy’s real name.”
Wes just watched her, but she wouldn’t look at him.
“The guy before that told me that I was a nice woman, but I needed to wear my hair longer, or else I look too manly.”
“So he’s a loser,” Wes said, not bothering to keep the disgust out of his voice.
“He was a loser,” Bree said. “And that’s the problem, Wes. That’s why I don’t trust myself. I’ve never really had a good boyfriend. Ever. I always pick the losers.” She glanced at him. “No offense.”
“Do you think I’m a loser?”
“No,” she said miserably. “But that doesn’t mean I believe everything I’ve been feeling when I’m with you.”
Wes wanted to ask what those feelings were, but he was still processing what she’d said about her previous boyfriends. “Okay, first off, you called your past boyfriends ‘guys.’ That’s your first problem. I’m not a guy. I’m a man.”
Bree just looked at him, and Wes really wanted her to know the difference. “I have plenty of money. Wesley is my real name, and I absolutely love your hair. Even if you shaved your head, I’d love it. I didn’t start to fall for you based on what you looked like, Bree. I started to fall for you the first time I heard your voice. I started to fall for you when I realized how kind you were. I started to fall for you with every text and every call, and that happened long before I even knew what you looked like.”
He drew in a deep breath, because he’d just laid a lot on the line too. “I’m too old to play games, to be honest. What you see with me, what you hear me say, is what it is. The end.”
“I know,” Bree said. “And that scares me too.”
“You want to play the games?”
“No,” she said. “I’m scared that one day, you’re going to wake up and realize what I have with my last three boyfriends. That I’m the loser here, and you could do so much better.”
“I have my eyes open,” Wes said. “And I really don’t think that’s going to happen.” He didn’t want a woman he had to reassure over and over again, though, he knew that. Lauren had been on that end of the needy spectrum, and constantly telling her how amazing she was and assuring her that he was where he’d said he’d be had been utterly exhausting.
He looked through the foliage, the steadiness of CB beneath him comforting. Bree didn’t say anything else, not even more instructions for riding the horse.
She eventually said, “We better get back so you’re not late for your job.”
“Okay,” Wes said, and they made it back to the stables. He brushed down his horse, feeling a real connection moving through him. He cleaned and hung his equipment, and finally, he took Bree into his arms.
“Tell me we’re okay,” he said, his mouth right at her ear. Any ideas of kissing her today, though, had fled during the horseback ride.
“Yes, Wes,” she said. “We’re okay.”
He pulled back and looked down at her. “Really?”
She smiled up at him and nodded. “Really.”
“I sure do like you,” he said very, very seriously.
“I sure do like you too,” she said, and those were the best words Wes had ever heard. She tipped up on her toes, and Wes leaned down, his heartbeat crashing against his ribcage now.
“Wesley Hammond to the check-in podium, please,” came over the loudspeaker. “Wesley Hammond to the check-in podium.”
Bree started giggling, then laughing. “You better go,” she said. “You’re being paged.”
“Can we pick this up later?” he asked, pulling her closer. “Right here. This moment. Later?”
“Yeah,” Bree said, still laughing as the loudspeaker crackled to life again. “Now, hurry up. I’ll wait five minutes and then head to my cabin.”
“Ooh, sneaking around,” Wes said as Patsy paged him for a second time in only ten seconds. He released Bree and backed up a couple of steps before turning around.
Then he hurried to his post, because the last thing he needed was to be paged for a third time. But he seriously couldn’t wait to see Bree again…and get his kiss.
Chapter Twelve
Gray Hammond glanced at his sleeping son as he crossed the Wyoming state line. They still had quite the drive in front of them, but Hunter had said they should do it in one day. Gray hadn’t minded, because there was nothing he liked more than a good road trip.
Truth be told, what he liked best about road trips were the sodas and candy he brought along. In fact, he reached for a Red Vine only to discover the box was empty. Frowning, he glanced at the seat between him and Hunter, where they piled their loot from the gas station. They still had chips, sour candy, and M&Ms. So Gray didn’t need to stop. He only wanted to.
But stopping would wake Hunter, and the boy had been working like a dog at his parents’ farm this summer. Gray’s guilt spiraled again, and he worked to tamp it back down. Work wouldn’t kill the eleven-year-old, and it was good for his parents to have their grandson around too. Not only both of those things, but Gray was extraordinarily busy at HMC right now, and Hunter didn’t have school, so he needed something to keep him occupied and out of trouble.
He did miss his friends though, and on the only weekend Gray had taken off of work so far this summer, he was taking them to Coral Canyon to help Wes move into his new house.
Gray was not at all surprised that Wes had decided to stay in Coral Canyon for a while, nor that he’d bought a house. He still owned the penthouse in the highrise in downtown Denver too, and Gray reminded himself to talk to his brother about selling it. He obviously had no plans to come back to the Denver area, a fact which made Gray a bit sad.
Someone needed to be there to take care of their parents, and he could already hear Colton’s solution to that predicament. Have them move to Coral Canyon.
Gray could admit he needed a change of scenery. He’d been in the Denver area, and up into the foothills at Ivory Peaks, for his whole life. His thoughts once again zeroed in on Hunter, and all his son would have to give up if Gray made a major move in their lives.
“But maybe now’s a good time,” he muttered to himself. Hunter would start sixth grade this year, and next year, he’d transition to junior high. Maybe a clean break then would allow him to find new friends at a new school, in a new place….
Gray let the thought linger there, neither committing to it nor dismissing it. He was really good at playing on neutral ground. As a lawyer for the family company, he’d learned that early on. He never took sides. He presented the law and let the big wigs in charge interpret which way to go.
A stitch of excitement pulled through him at the idea of returning to Coral Canyon. He’d been through the quaint, picturesque town before, and he’d enjoyed it. Wes said it was stunning in the summer, and Gray couldn’t wait to get out on a river or a lake and catch some fish.
Fishing was how he reset, and how he brought up difficult subjects with Hunter. He’d had something on his mind he wanted to discuss with the boy for a couple of months now, and he had his mother to blame for it.
Dating.
Gray knew he’d get back into the dating pool at some point, but as he’d told his mom several times now, he wanted to don the trunks and rub in the sunscreen on his own timetable. He had more than
his own heart to consider, and no matter what his mom said, Hunter wasn’t just a cookie-cutter of a human being.
He was a real human being, with real feelings, and he deserved the absolute best. Gray did not—would not—introduce anyone into the boy’s life who would end up abandoning him. They’d both had more than enough of that for one lifetime, and Gray’s fingers tightened around the wheel as he thought about his ex-wife.
Sheila came in and out of their lives on her own whims, and the only thing Gray hadn’t been able to deny her was her requests to see their son. He and Hunter had worked out a good system so Gray would know how things were going with simple, everyday phrases, and Hunter had never used any but the positive ones.
His mother fed him, and she didn’t leave him home alone. She didn’t bring men back to the house while Hunter was there, and he liked going to the beach in Florida. Thankfully, that white sand and sunshine hadn’t enticed his son away from him, and Gray cast him another look.
He had no idea how to date with a son. He hadn’t even known how to date without a son, and his stomach flipped as he tried to remember how in the world to flirt, to ask a woman out to dinner, or how to kiss someone he liked.
He’d done all of those things previously, but they felt like they’d happened in a different life, to someone else. To someone Gray wasn’t anymore.
Eventually, Hunter woke up, complaining of his need to use a bathroom. Gray pulled over at the next gas station, and though they had enough fuel to get to Coral Canyon, he filled the tank and sent Hunter inside for more Red Vines and a fresh soda for both of them.
Once they were all empty in the right places and stocked up in others, they hit the road again.
“Are we goin’ fishin’ today?” Hunter asked.
“Maybe,” Gray said, though he was tired. “We’re going to stop by Uncle Colton’s and see where Uncle Wes is with his packing. And he might need our help.”
“The sun stays out real late,” Hunter said, his way of saying he didn’t mind if they went fishing in the evening. Gray hoped his energy would last that long, because while he loved a road trip, they could also make a man exhausted—especially the flat, boring drive through Wyoming.
They finally took an exit toward Jackson Hole and Coral Canyon, and the Grand Tetons spread before them.
“Wow, Dad, would you look at that?” Hunter peered through the windshield at the enormous mountains, and Gray felt the voice of God speaking right to his soul. How he loved mountains, especially big ones.
“Pretty amazing, right?” Gray marveled at the mountains too, and he was glad his son had the same feelings he did. “Maybe we should move here.”
Hunter looked at him, though Gray didn’t meet his son’s eyes. The weight of Hunter’s gaze on the side of his face was enough, and Gray smiled as he turned toward him. “I mean, Uncle Colt and Uncle Wes live here now.”
“But what about Grams, Grandma, and Grandpa?” Hunter asked, his dark brown eyes big and wide. He had such a kind soul, and Gray knew he couldn’t really move his son here. Not really.
Fantasies were always different than realities.
“I’m just talking,” Gray said. “I don’t think we’ll move here, buddy.”
“Unless they come with us.” Hunter picked up his soda and took a long drink. Gray could practically hear the wheels turning in his son’s head, and he just waited. Hunter needed silence before he said important things. “Grandpa said he’s tired of the farm. Maybe he’d sell it.”
Gray held back the scoff. His father wouldn’t sell that farm; it had been in the Hammond family as long as the company. Longer, even. “Oh, I don’t think Uncle Ames would let him do that,” Gray said.
“Maybe Uncle Ames would buy it then,” Hunter said.
Gray glanced at his son. “Maybe we should buy it.”
Hunter’s eyes got even bigger, and Gray had his answer. He laughed, glad when Hunter started shaking his head no. “Dad, I like the farm, but it’s a lot of work.”
“I know, bud.” He reached over and tousled his son’s hair, but Hunter dodged out from underneath his hand after only a moment.
“Dad,” he said, disgusted. “Stop it.”
Gray mourned the days when Hunter was younger and loved getting his hair tousled. He liked watching him grow up too, so he couldn’t complain too much.
“You’re okay out there, though, right?” Gray asked. “You’d tell me if you really hated this summer, wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah, of course,” Hunter said. “I like it fine. It’s just a lot of work, and Grandpa isn’t very fast.”
“No, he isn’t,” Gray said, thinking of his aging father. He saw a big sign announcing their arrival in Coral Canyon, and he tipped his cowboy hat toward it. “Here we are.”
“Good,” Hunter said. “I have to go to the bathroom again.”
The next morning, Gray woke with the sun. He wondered if there would come a day when he didn’t, when he could sleep past the morning’s rays coming through the slats in the blinds. Maybe after he quit as lead counsel for HMC.
He groaned as he sat up in the guest bed Colton had provided. Wes had been off signing all his mortgage papers when Hunter and Gray had arrived last night, so they had gotten their first fishing expedition in. A beautiful, clear-as-glass, no-boats-allowed lake sat just up the road that led to Whiskey Mountain Lodge, where Gray had stayed before and where Wes worked.
This morning, though, Wes had two moving trucks meeting him at his new place, and he had the keys and garage door opener to get everyone inside the house. It sat only half a mile from Colton’s place, and Gray felt another twitch of something, or someone, calling him to come to Coral Canyon too.
He left the bedroom and went down the hall and then the stairs, letting his nose guide him toward the freshly roasted scent of coffee. “Bless you, Colt,” he murmured as he entered the kitchen, though he’d never known his younger brother to get up all that early.
Wes did, but the oldest Hammond brother had insisted on sleeping at his new place, though he had no bed. “An air mattress will do,” he said, and Gray really didn’t want to listen to the almost-fifty-year-old complain about his back that day. Which Wes would totally do. Gray saw a lot of lifting and carrying in his future that day, and he frowned at the line of mugs on the counter.
Colton had never done that before either. It felt like something a woman would do, and Gray would know, because he’d lived with a woman for five years. Not for a while, but what man lined up coffee mugs as if putting together a coffee bar?
Not Colton, that was for sure. And it was only Colt, Gray, and Hunter in the house that morning.
Gray picked up the dark blue mug on the end of the row, noting the line of spoons, the little packets of sugar, and the stirring sticks all neatly laid out. Something was definitely wrong here.
He took the last step to the coffeemaker and poured himself a mug of the dark, steaming liquid, trying to decide if he should go for the raw sugar or the sugar substitute. He wasn’t a spring chicken anymore either, but coffee sure did taste better with real sugar….
He’d consumed so much sugar in the car yesterday, and he needed to get on a training diet and regimen for running a marathon. He’d made a goal to run the Boston Marathon, and it was never too soon to start preparing.
So the sugar substitute. He’d just reached for one of the brownish packets when someone said, “Oh, my.”
Gray spun around and met the eyes of a beautiful woman with light green eyes, light hair spilling over her shoulders, and holding what looked to be very heavy grocery bags. Her eyes raked down his body, and in that moment, Gray realized how completely underdressed he was.
So underdressed he wasn’t wearing a shirt.
The woman’s face turned bright red, and she tried to lift her groceries onto the countertop and failed. She grunted as the bottles she carried headed for the ground. Thankfully, they were plastic, and hollow thuds filled the air.
Gray needed to get out o
f there, fast. Heat filled his own face, and he held his pathetically small cup of coffee in front of his body, as if it would conceal his naked torso and chest.
“Uh,” the woman stammered, and Gray should’ve moved to help her. If he’d been dressed, he would have. Deciding that didn’t matter—he had to show this woman he was chivalrous—he practically dove toward her.
He forgot all about the coffee mug in his hand until it shattered on the floor, only a couple of feet away from the woman’s shoes.
Chapter Thirteen
Elise Murphy had never seen a man as beautiful as the one standing in Colton’s kitchen, and not just because he wasn’t wearing a shirt.
“I’m sorry,” he said, the first words he’d spoken since their exchange had started a minute ago.
Her arms could barely carry the bottles of flavored coffee creamer as it was, but they’d gone to complete marshmallows at the sight of him.
Steam lifted from the spilled coffee on the floor, and he said, “Give me two seconds, and I’ll be right back to clean all of this up.” He ran away, his bare feet slapping the tile as he headed for the stairs.
Embarrassment burned in Elise’s face, first at her reaction to him, and second at the way she’d dropped the creamer. “He dumped coffee everywhere,” she said, reaching for a shard of blue ceramic. “And broke the cutest cup.”
She picked up the coffee creamers one by one and put them on the counter, not moving her feet so she wouldn’t step on any other pieces of the broken mug.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, rushing back into the kitchen.
He started opening cupboards until she said, “Towels are above the microwave.”
He glanced at her, and he now wore a gray T-shirt with the word SUPERDAD across the chest, as well as a cowboy hat. Elise’s heart went berserk, no matter how much she’d tried to tell it over the past couple of years that they didn’t like cowboys.
But this one…oh, she liked this one.
He got out the towels and started mopping up the spilled coffee. “I didn’t know someone else was here,” he said, his deep voice tickling her eardrums and making her warm all over again. “I get up so early, and I guess I was surprised to see coffee already made.”
