by Joanne Rock
None of those men had ever looked like Weston Rivera.
For that, she was grateful on her first full day back in Montana after her trip to Hollywood. The Mesa Falls Ranch owner was so absurdly good-looking, she was distracted enough that she almost forgot why she was following him. She’d been trying to find the right opportunity to approach him as he finished up his work outside the stables, and somehow got caught up in watching him. Her gaze drank in the ruggedly handsome profile, the hazel eyes and longish dark blond hair, the powerful build and easy demeanor that let him handle the agitated mount he was leading around the snowy arena with a halter.
In the time he’d been working with the animal, the huge black draft horse had gone from pawing the ground and tossing its head to resting that same big muzzle on Weston’s shoulder. She didn’t know how he’d done it, but she felt as mesmerized by the man as the gelding clearly did.
When Weston broke the spell with a soft whistle, leading the equine into the state-of-the-art stables, April forced her brain back into gear. She wasn’t here to ogle the man. Or to drink in the calming effect he had on her nerves as he moved around the arena. She needed to question him, since he’d refused to speak to her over the phone. And her professional pride demanded she have more information the next time she spoke to Devon. Although she’d uncovered something significant in her final interview on the West Coast, she knew it wasn’t enough. Her client wanted the full story, and to nab that promotion she needed, she would have to provide it.
Now she waited a few moments before following him inside the building that housed the ranch’s business office. There were stables on the main floor, with cobblestone floors and polished wooden stall doors. The place looked more suited to hold champion Thoroughbreds than working animals like the draft horse.
Brass lanterns hung at regular intervals on the heavy beams that lined a walkway leading from the foyer. April waited until Weston climbed the steps to the second floor, where double steel doors bearing the ranch name stood half ajar. Once he disappeared through that entrance, she trailed him, peering inside to where a reception area appeared empty. The scent of coffee hung in the air even though it was late afternoon, and she saw a pot percolating in the corner on a gray granite wet bar.
Beyond the vacant reception desk and a wall emblazoned with another ranch logo, a second door remained partially open. Weston must be in there. She could only see a glimpse of a conference table with gray leather swivel chairs.
She was sure she had him cornered now. He couldn’t make excuses about his horse needing attention, or edge past her into the barn where guests weren’t supposed to follow.
Striding into the reception area, she stuffed her gloves into the pockets of her long down jacket as she closed the office doors behind her. She was unwinding her scarf from her neck when Weston emerged from the inner office, his focus on a sheaf of papers in his hand.
“Hello, Mr. Rivera.” She left her scarf dangling free around her neck, her jacket open.
He stopped short when he spotted her, his hazel eyes all the more compelling when they were turned on her. He’d removed his shearling jacket and Stetson. His well-worn denim and pale blue flannel didn’t begin to hint at his wealth. With his dark blond hair brushing his shoulders, he looked like a misplaced surfer, right down to the bristle of a jaw he hadn’t shaved for days.
“Can I help you?” His voice was deeper than she’d imagined. Low and melodic.
The timbre of it reverberated through her, resonating on a pleasing frequency.
“Yes.” She wished they’d met under different circumstances, and she could have enjoyed the warm thrum of awareness. But since this job was far more important than the fleeting pleasure of a handsome man’s voice, she came to the point. “I have a few questions to ask you about your aunt, Fallon Reed.”
The look in his eyes went from warm and inviting to glacial in an instant. She could practically feel the chill of it.
“You’re the PI who keeps calling me.” He said “PI” like it left a bad taste in his mouth.
His tone was dismissive, as if he’d just seen her childhood home and the disaster area it had turned into these last few years.
She swallowed hard before she started again.
“It will only take a minute—”
“I have no legal obligation to speak to you.” He brushed past her and approached the coffee maker. Turning his back on her.
She watched him take a cup from an overhead cupboard and fill it from the stainless steel carafe of the high-tech machine. When the ceramic mug was full, he sipped it before striding back toward the inner sanctum like she wasn’t even in the room.
Aggravated, she hurried to step between him and his office door.
“Is that really how you want to address this?” She suddenly stood too close to him, but she didn’t think backing up a step would be a good move when she was trying to press him for answers. “Because if you’re trying to protect someone you care about, don’t you think a PI has more leeway keeping an investigation quiet than a police department?”
She was taking shots in the dark since she had no evidence that Fallon Reed had taken part in any remotely shady activity. But Weston’s scowl at least indicated she had his attention.
Better she ticked him off than he ignored her.
“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” He glowered down at her while tapping into her every last insecurity about her ability to do this job. “Or what’s at stake.”
Unease curled in her belly. Given his harsh tone, she wouldn’t have believed he was the kind of man who could soothe a thirteen-hundred-pound beast if she hadn’t witnessed it with her own eyes.
“I know enough to recognize that you won’t want your ranch associated with a man like Alonzo Salazar once his past comes to light.” She hadn’t learned everything about her client’s father, but what she’d discovered so far didn’t paint such a pretty picture.
No one kept that many secrets without very good reason.
“He has a lot of friends who think otherwise,” Weston assured her as he straightened. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
“You consider yourself a friend?” She stepped sideways to remain between him and his office. “Then why not set the record straight to maintain his reputation?”
Weston Rivera’s eyes narrowed.
Later, she realized that should have been a warning. But for now, she watched him set down his coffee mug and his papers on the empty reception desk.
“I’m calling security to see you out,” he informed her as he picked up the handset on a desk phone. Then he slanted her a sideways glance. “Unless you care to leave under your own steam?”
His gaze lingered on her a long moment. Long enough to make her feel a surge of awareness for him despite her frustration. Huffing out a sigh to hide that unwelcome feeling, she realized she wasn’t going to learn anything from Weston Rivera today.
“I’m going to find out what Alonzo Salazar was up to one way or another,” she informed him, wrapping her scarf around her neck again, if only to hide the rush of heated color she feared was climbing up her skin.
If he said any more, she missed it in her rush to leave the office. She retreated down the stairs and out into the chilly wind blowing off the mountains.
Where she could breathe again.
Drawing in shallow breaths of crisp air, she tried to slow her racing heart. She feared she wasn’t cut out for this kind of work. It was one thing to trace a paper trail from the safety of her Denver office. Being on the ground and mired in real detective work was far messier. Upsetting.
She’d had Regina Flores calling her repeatedly for the last twenty-four hours, wanting to quiz her about the investigation. And she’d fielded a half dozen messages from her mother’s neighbors back home, threatening to take legal action if she didn’t get her
place cleaned up. April could manage it. She absolutely would get on top of it all.
Starting today, with a drive to Kalispell to confront Fallon Reed in person. She needed to make some headway on this case, not just because the job and the promotion were mission-critical to keeping her mother under her own roof. She also needed to see progress in order to experience the therapeutic effects of peeling away someone else’s secrets.
That aspect of the job kept her working even on the days she didn’t like it one bit. And if that put her at odds with the mesmerizing ranch owner?
She just needed to remember that she couldn’t afford to get close to anyone anyhow. Her own secrets ensured that. No matter how much she might wish otherwise.
Heading for her car, she dialed Regina Flores to start ticking items off her to-do list. She would take back control of this case. April had already sent the information she had to Devon, but she understood why Regina wanted to hear all the nuances.
The woman answered even before April heard the phone ring.
“Hello?” Regina sounded as desperate as April felt.
Maybe that was why she found it difficult to talk to the woman sometimes. She empathized a little too well with Regina’s difficult journey. April remembered what it was like to have control of her life wrenched out of her hands.
“Hi, Regina.” She hit the fob on the keys to her rental car as she approached the parking area outside the main lodge. “I have an update for you.”
* * *
Regina had thought Devon’s PI was trying to dodge her. But after a thorough phone briefing with April Stephens while the woman drove to Kalispell to interview Fallon Reed, Regina recognized that April had simply been too busy following leads to give updates.
Tucking her phone in her pocket, Regina went back to prepping for a bonfire happy hour down by the skating pond. She owed a giant thank-you to Millie and a few of her other bunkmates for pulling her share of the work during her phone call, but she was learning that was part of the employee code here. She’d covered for one of the ski concierges the week before when she’d ended up stuck overnight with a ski excursion. And in return, her coworkers had finished Regina’s chore of lighting the antler Christmas tree they’d built out on the skating pond.
Setup appeared complete now, and the bonfire was lit even though the sun hadn’t fully set. Regina could see activity in one of the dining rooms overlooking the skating pond. The waitstaff was preparing to bring cold and hot carts down to the ice so skaters could help themselves to cocoa, cocktails and appetizers. And, actually, as she peered up the hill toward the lodge lit from within, she spotted a conference suite where Devon was holding a meeting with the ranch higher-ups to finalize plans for the launch event.
Even at this distance, Devon was easy to recognize, from his broad shoulders encased in a custom-fitted suit jacket, to the way he leaned back in the leather swivel chair at the head of the table. His body was familiar to her. The way he moved. His gestures.
He would meet her at the bonfire afterward, and she was anxious to talk to him about the PI’s revelations—that Alonzo had had an affair with her mother’s yoga instructor, and the yogini had told him Tabitha’s secret, effectively giving him all his story fodder. April hadn’t yet figured out why Alonzo decided to write the story anonymously, but she’d asked Regina to weigh the possibility that he’d never meant for the story to be connected to the people it was based on in real life .
In other words, to consider the small chance that Alonzo had meant no harm with the book.
Boots crunching through the snow, Regina skirted the ice pond, remembering the unusual request, and how she’d rejected it out of hand. Why all the secrecy if he’d never meant for the truth to emerge? But the idea gnawed at her just the same, making her wonder what it meant if it turned out she’d chased down answers for years only to discover her life had been destroyed as collateral damage when Alonzo was only trying to tell a story.
But he’d done a poor job of disguising his sources of inspiration, and that felt damning to her. They’d know more about his motives, perhaps, once they could figure out where the profits of the book had gone, but April refused to share her information about the nominee service. Still, Regina knew they were getting close as her phone rang again. This time, her mother’s number flashed across the screen, reminding Regina she’d been trying to reach her.
A mix of feelings washed over her. Nervousness. The old resentments. A tiny hope that one day they could have a relationship that wouldn’t be overshadowed by the past.
Pressing the Connect button, she walked in the moonlight to the far side of the ice pond, where a gazebo provided shelter from the falling snow. She’d be able to see the skaters as they started to arrive. Devon had agreed to take a break from his work to meet her here later, too.
“Hi, Mom.” Regina brushed some snowflakes off a picnic table under the gazebo before taking a seat on the wooden bench.
“Hello, Georgiana.” Her mother’s tone was cool. She sounded like she was in her car, or at the very least using her speakerphone. A rock tune played on a radio somewhere near her.
Regina bristled. “I’m not going by that name anymore, remember?”
“It doesn’t change who you are, darling,” her mom reminded her while a few car horns honked in the background. “And how’s life in Montana? Are you honestly working at a horse ranch?”
Regina blew out a breath and tried to relax, remembering the whole reason she’d reached out to her mother in the first place. Hadn’t Millie suggested she take more risks to build better relationships?
“I am.” She’d imparted that much information in the message she’d left for her mother. Staring out across the ice pond lit with white lights strung from tree to tree around the perimeter, she couldn’t imagine a more beautiful place to be right now. “It’s peaceful here. I feel like I can think.”
She hadn’t realized how suffocating her life in Los Angeles had been back when she’d been trying to hold the threads of her unraveled life together. Back home, there had been reminders everywhere of all she had lost. The stores and restaurants she couldn’t afford anymore. The parties that she didn’t get invited to. And, of course, the tabloid interest in her story that made her feel like she was always running from questions.
“You needed more peace?” her mother asked drily. “I thought that’s what counseling was for.” There was a biting edge to her tone, reminding Regina how much her mom had resented the discussions of her daughter’s therapy. Then her mother sighed, and some of the bitterness eased when she spoke again. “I was under the impression you’d forgiven me.”
Regina closed her eyes, trying to remember the things therapy had taught her about her family relationships. She had traveled this road with her mom before, and was unwilling to fall into the same conversational traps.
Her mom’s answer to the upheaval from Hollywood Newlyweds had been to retreat. Ignore. Move on. But that had never worked for Regina.
“I meant a different kind of peace, Mom,” she clarified gently. “It’s really beautiful here.”
In the long, awkward pause that followed, she could almost hear her mother debating her response. Finally, she said, “What drew you there?”
Encouraged that maybe her mother was going to work on establishing a new peace between them, Regina decided to be forthright. She spotted a camera crew setting up to take footage of the bonfire party as it began. It was bound to be crowded, since the ranch’s lodge was now full to capacity as guests and media convened for the coming launch event.
“I think I’m getting very close to finally putting the scandal and that damned book in the past, Mom.” Her thoughts had been all but consumed by the new developments since April Stephens had taken the case. Or—perhaps more to the point—since Devon had decided to spare no expense in looking for the truth.
His contribution toward uncovering
his father’s motives only added to his undeniable appeal. If only she could trust what she felt for him. Or trust him. She’d been putting up barriers with people for so long she wasn’t sure she knew how to relate to a man any other way.
“That would be good news. But why do you sound so sure?” Her mother switched off the radio, a drum solo ending abruptly. “What did I miss?”
The curiosity in her mom’s voice reminded Regina that this wasn’t just about her own past. The scandal and aftermath had affected her mother, too. Had devastated her, even. Tabitha Barnes had never returned to Hollywood. She’d never acted in another film.
Alonzo Salazar had stolen Tabitha’s secrets and profited off them, wrecking her life in the process. Wasn’t it only fair for Tabitha to know the truth? She might have put her anger behind her—and the hunger for answers that haunted Regina—but that didn’t mean she didn’t deserve to know the truth.
“If I tell you, will you keep it between us?” she asked, needing to keep the information out of the tabloids. Not just for Devon’s sake, but for her own.
“Of course,” her mother agreed. “I learned the hard way not to share my secrets,” Tabitha continued, a hint of bitterness giving an edge to her voice.
Relaxing a bit, Regina told herself it hadn’t been a mistake to reconnect with her mother. They could mend their relationship, couldn’t they? Maybe Millie had a point about taking chances. Deciding to start with her mother, Regina brought Tabitha up to speed on what she’d learned so far, confident that her mom understood the hellish ramifications of having the tabloids involved in their lives.
“Who the hell is Alonzo Salazar?” Her mother interrupted midway through the story. “Hold on, Geor—Regina,” she corrected herself. “I need to pull off the interstate so I can give you my full attention.”