“Wait a second. That was not our fault. The reason we didn’t hire Holt was because Bran hired him first. Exclusively. We couldn’t come close to paying him what Bran did.”
“Holt earned every penny too. Man, they gutted that house. Everything is new from the plumbing to the electrical to the ceilings and walls. It’s really something.” He stared at her thoughtfully. “Did you help Harper with the interior design?”
“Some. But she has a great eye. Both she and Bran knew exactly what they wanted in their home.”
“Hank and Lainie were the same way. They’d started planning for their house the second they moved in here.”
Such a wistful tone. Was he lonely living by himself for the first time in his life? Why did that make her so sad?
The next hour they spoke very little. When Janie reached the last stack of boxes, Abe started hauling them upstairs. She’d ended up with nine boxes of resalable goods—a prosperous haul considering it was free.
After four quick trips, Abe leaned against the wall next to her to catch his breath.
Her fingers tightened on the box top as the musky fragrance of his skin rolled over her. Male sweat wasn’t supposed to create the urge to bury her face into the damp spot on his chest and just breathe him in. She shifted slightly, hoping physical distance would clear her thoughts and her senses of him.
“Sorry. I probably reek.”
No, you smell divine. But again, she redirected. “All those boxes won’t fit in my car.”
“I’ll bring the rest in my truck.”
“Oh. Thanks.” She lifted the box and turned.
But Abe removed the box from her arms. “You’re using me, remember?”
She stood on the porch, watching him haul boxes up, and shove them in her backseat, until the car was crammed full. When he ambled over, she intended to grumble about his underappreciation of her physical abilities, but his gaze zoomed to the lower left side of her face.
His fingers tenderly brushed the spot his eyes had marked. “How is it you haven’t aged a single day in the last eight years?”
“How long has it been since you’ve had your eyes checked?”
Abe chuckled and opened the driver’s-side door for her. “You’re full up on this tin can tryin’ to pass itself off as a car.”
“Just because my car isn’t a monster gas guzzler like yours doesn’t give you the right to insult it,” she retorted.
“Cupcake, it’s a Prius. Callin’ it a car at all is insulting to all other cars on the road.”
She huffed out an annoyed breath. After she started the engine, Abe rapped on the window. “What?”
“Watch the lead foot.”
Janie had to use her side mirrors to back up since the boxes were stacked too high to see out of her rearview mirror. And yeah, when she purposely spun a little gravel just to be ornery, she swore she heard Abe’s deep laughter.
She absentmindedly tapped her fingers on her steering wheel, trying not to focus on thoughts about Abe and their convoluted past. She’d gone about ten miles on the shortcut to the highway, when her car lurched. Janie automatically glanced in the rearview mirror. Before she could curse the boxes blocking her view, she was hit from behind again.
The jolt sent her upper body forward and her seat belt snapped her back, jerking her hands free from the steering wheel. Just as her hands reconnected with it, she felt another hit from behind. She slammed on the brakes and the back end of the car fishtailed on the gravel. Attempting to keep the car on the road, she overcorrected and cranked the steering wheel too hard. The last thing she remembered was screaming as her car headed for the ditch.
Chapter Two
Abe found himself whistling as he tossed the last box in the bed of his truck. Things had gone better today than he’d hoped.
Over the past five months, he’d stopped being angry his ex-wife had breezed back into Wyoming without a care of how it’d affect his life. After she’d left, he’d been forced to deal with pitying looks and conversations that ended when he entered a room. As the years passed so did people’s memories.
Until she returned, looking beautiful and confident. All practiced charm and sweet fire, completely polished, acting nothing like the shy, plain woman he’d married. Now he wanted her with an ache that defied reason.
He suspected she hung out at Buckeye Joe’s for the same reason he did. Loneliness. He’d started to flirt with this new, charismatic Janie. Nothing big. Buying her a drink. Asking her to dance.
Dropping hints about the warmth of his bed.
She’d laughed him off, not meanly, but in the same way the old Janie did—using deflection to hide her interest. Her mouth might’ve been saying no, but her body had been saying hell yes.
He’d seen the appreciative glances she’d sent him last night at the wedding. And again today he’d caught her eyeballing his chest—so he’d obliged her need to ogle him by removing his shirt.
And ogle him she had.
Abe knew his physical appearance had changed. His rangy build became bulky after Hank quit bullfighting and they’d started lifting weights together. Those hours sweating and pumping iron had definitely been worth it, seeing the heated lust in Janie’s eyes. It was only a matter of time—and his patience—before teasing words and hot looks wouldn’t be enough.
He hung a left on the gravel road, suspecting Janie had taken the shortcut to the highway, which didn’t shave off more than thirty extra seconds from the paved road. Not that she ever believed him.
He’d driven this stretch so many times he usually let his mind wander. But he noticed fresh skid marks in the gravel immediately. Then his gaze snagged on the ass end of a car sticking out of the ditch.
Not just any car. Janie’s car.
Everything went into slow motion.
He jammed both feet on the brakes until his rig shuddered to a stop. While the voice in his head screamed no no no, not Janie, he threw the gearshift in park and half ran/half slid down the dry grass covering the embankment. He reached for his phone and dialed 911. Somehow he remained calm as he stood beside the mangled car and explained the situation. The voice on the other end of the phone assured him the ambulance and sheriff’s deputy had been dispatched. Major problem with living in rural Wyoming: they were a long way from medical treatment facilities.
Don’t look, man. Just stay the hell away and wait.
But he couldn’t. When he crouched down, he saw the air bag had deployed. Thank you, Jesus. Janie was slumped across it, her head turned the opposite direction—but not at an unnatural angle. The windshield had shattered, scattering glass everywhere.
He had half a mind to wrench the door free and extract her himself. But deep down, he knew that might cause more harm to her body. The last thing he’d ever do was cause her more pain. Feeling helpless and heartsick, he dialed his brother, hoping Lainie was home and could offer medical insight.
Hank answered on the first ring. “Abe. What’s up?”
“The wheels on Janie’s car. Is Lainie around?”
“No. She’s workin’ second shift.” Pause. “What do you mean the wheels on Janie’s car?” After Abe rattled off an explanation, Hank said, “I’m on my way.”
Abe’s answering, “You don’t have to—” was lost in the dial tone.
He talked to Janie. Making promises. Telling her every sappy, sexy, sassy thing he’d noticed about her since she’d returned to Muddy Gap on the off chance she was conscious.
The spray of gravel dragged his attention to the road. Abe glanced up as Hank started down the incline with Celia close on his heels.
“Is she okay?” were the first words out of Celia’s mouth.
“I don’t know. I haven’t even opened the damn car door.”
Celia ran her palm down Abe’s forearm and squeezed his hand. “Hard as that may be, you’ve done the right thing.”
“Well, looks to me like she’s still breathin’ or else I might’ve done something rash.”
“Und
erstandable,” Hank said. “How long ago did this happen?”
“She came out to get some boxes for Harper. I left the ranch about twenty minutes after she did. I figured she’d take the short cut and this is what I came upon.”
As the three of them looked into the window, Janie stirred.
“Janie.” Abe’s heart kicked hard and he placed his palm against the glass, wishing he could reach through and touch her. “Don’t move. We’re gonna get you outta there.”
Her head lifted and then it fell back.
No one spoke. Abe remained crouched, staring inside the vehicle, willing her to show more signs of consciousness as Hank and Celia walked the perimeter of the car. Willing her to be all right. Trying like hell not to burst into tears or scream his rage and frustration. He breathed slowly, knowing he’d freak out his family if he gave in to those impulses. Abe Lawson had a reputation for being cool, calm and collected, no matter what the situation.
He sure as fuck didn’t feel that way now. He felt like the bottom had dropped out of his world.
Wailing sirens became louder. Abe stepped aside when the EMTs scrambled down the embankment with a gurney. One guy pried open the door and began examining Janie, tossing off comments and medical lingo to the other EMT.
Footsteps shuffled next to him and he looked into Deputy TJ McConnell’s face. “Lawson.”
“Deputy.”
“Did I hear right? The woman in this car is your ex-wife?”
“Yep.”
“You have a friendly relationship with her?”
Weird question. “Yeah.”
“How’d you happen to run across her vehicle?”
“She left my place and I was meeting her at the Split Rock to drop off the rest of the boxes in the back of my truck.”
“So you’ve no reason to want her harmed or dead?”
“Hell no. Why?”
McConnell sidled in front of Abe, blocking his view of the paramedics. “She was struck from behind. Repeatedly. I’m guessing it was a truck of some kind.”
Abe’s eyes narrowed. “You askin’ me if I ran Janie off the road?”
“Did you?” He pointed to Abe’s truck. “A pickup that size could do some damage.”
“But my truck would show damage if I’d purposely rammed another vehicle?”
“Yes, it would.”
“Then go ahead and check my truck, Deputy. Take pictures. Do whatever you have to. Match up the damages from Janie’s car because you’ll see I didn’t do this. I’d never . . .” His voice broke.
Hank and Celia flanked Abe and faced down McConnell. “Abe didn’t do this,” Celia retorted hotly.
When Abe realized Janie was out of the car, he stepped around the deputy and raced beside the EMT. His stomach knotted. God. She looked so pale. So tiny. So helpless. He was afraid to touch her but couldn’t stop from enclosing her small fingers in his large hand. “Janie?”
Her eyes opened but held a blank look of shock. “Abe? What’s—?”
“Don’t try to talk. You were in an accident. They’re takin’ you to the hospital in Rawlins.”
“Will you—”
“Yes. I’ll be right behind them. I promise.”
Janie swallowed. “Okay. Will you call Renner?”
“Don’t worry about that now.”
She tried to pull him closer. “No. I’m serious. You have to call Renner. Right away.”
“Why? He can find someone to cover for you tomorrow, Janie.”
She blinked at him. “Please. Will you just call him as soon as possible?”
Jealousy and anger consumed him but he managed a curt, “Fine. What’s his number?”
“It’s in my cell phone. In my purse. It was on the front seat. Just . . . bring it to the hospital.”
Abe reluctantly tore his gaze away from her and grilled the EMT. “How bad are her injuries?”
“Bumps and bruises mostly. She’s lucky she wore a seat belt and the air bag deployed. They’ll run more tests at the hospital.”
Janie shivered and they whisked her away.
He hated he didn’t have the right to ride in the ambulance with her. To comfort her. To give himself peace of mind that she wasn’t dealing with this alone. He stuck his head inside the driver’s side door and spied Janie’s purse on the floor.
Deputy McConnell glared at him. “What exactly do you think you’re doing, Lawson?”
“Takin’ her purse to the hospital. She needs it for insurance. Is my truck cleared to go?”
“It wasn’t involved in the accident as far as I can tell.”
Abe looked at Janie’s crumpled car, then back at the deputy. “Lemme know as soon as you’re done doin’ whatever you need to do and we’ll get this towed outta here.”
“Do you need someone to ride into Rawlins with you?” Celia asked after the deputy wandered away.
“Nah.” He blew out an impatient breath. “Thanks for coming. I’ll keep in touch.” He climbed into his truck and took off, his thoughts a jumbled mess. He didn’t remember he was supposed to contact Renner Jackson until he’d parked in the hospital parking lot. Her command “call Renner right away” didn’t sit well with him, but he shoved his annoyance aside and scrolled through Janie’s contact list.
Chapter Three
Home at last.
Inside her modular log cabin, Tierney Pratt pressed her back against the door and inhaled a deep breath. Although it was tiny compared to her Chicago apartment, she loved the coziness of the space. She loved that it was one hundred percent hers.
Daddy had to buy you a brand-new house? You too good to live in a used trailer, brainiac?
Once again she’d allowed Renner’s rude opinion to intrude on her thoughts. The man was everywhere. She’d run into him while buying groceries. Granted, Muddy Gap had only one store, but his smug comment irritated her—how it must be a real hardship she couldn’t find caviar and lobster rolls at the C-Mart.
How little the man knew about her. How much he assumed.
Tierney remembered the tipping point last night at Harper and Bran’s wedding reception as she silently reeled from the insufferable man’s incendiary comments. On impulse, she threw her martini in Renner’s face, and secretly basked in his total surprise as the vodka dripped off his stubborn chin. She’d sidestepped him and headed to the bar. No one had intercepted her, but plenty of curious eyes had followed her across the room. Sometimes she felt like a character in a Clint Eastwood movie—an unwelcome stranger in a small Western town.
Dwelling on it won’t change anything because you’re here for the duration.
Faced with a boring Sunday, Tierney opened the Sudoku program on her computer. When her cell phone rang ten minutes later, she answered, “Hello,” without checking the caller ID.
“Tierney. How are you?”
Great. Now she’d have to hide her sour mood from her father. Then again, it was doubtful he’d notice. Forcing a chipper note in her voice, she said, “I’m fine. And you?”
“Can’t complain. The stock market is up. The weather has been decent. Now the reason I called is . . .”
Of course you have a specific reason to call. You’d never ring me up to shoot the breeze or ask what’s been going on in my life besides work.
There was a situation of her own making—her life had revolved around work, work and more work for the past four years. Slaving in front of a hot computer seventy plus hours a week hadn’t done a bit of good when push came to shove; her father had passed her over for a promotion again. In a rare show of backbone, she’d handed in her resignation and escaped the Windy City for the windswept Wyoming prairie.
But Gene Pratt, CFO, CEO and world-class SOB, was treating her defection as a “sabbatical” after she’d invoked the obscure clause in her upper level employment contract that allowed her six months of hands-on management training at the PFG property of her choosing. A clause her father couldn’t argue with, since he’d been enforcing it for years whenever he needed to di
vest his company of troublesome managers. His response had been predictably businesslike.
Why are you wasting your skills in some backwater burg? This isn’t an acting-out episode like I’m suffering through with your sister, is it?
Acting out. As if. But she’d never gone against the grain. Never bucked the system. Never argued with her father.
Never stepped out on her own.
After she first arrived at the Split Rock Ranch and Resort, she worried Renner Jackson would call her father to send her packing because