He hadn’t even met her yet and already she was disrupting his life. She was beautiful, and a perfect distraction for his frame of mind. Did she have any idea the danger she was involved in? Could he woo her into talking and giving up the entire Mass Mafioso? If so, would he risk her life?
Ah hell, they could all be in danger, but right now he had to trust his own instincts.
“You okay, bro?” Chayton teased as he bumped him on the shoulder.
This was the Chayton he knew, the one that emerged when he wasn’t dwelling on his losses. In coming back to Montana, Garret not only hoped to heal himself but also to heal his relationship with his brother.
He swilled his beer and returned to the table. In another swift move, he tackled his last ball, but it took two more shots to pocket the eight. Thankfully, he was faster than Andy.
He blew on the tip of his talc-covered pool stick, mocking a smoking gun in an old western shootout. “That, my friends, is how a real man plays.” His arms flew open and he swaggered backward, exaggerating his theatrics. He peered across the small crowd, playing to the group that gathered. He knew most of them. Had grown up with most of them. The ones he didn’t know knew the ones he did. “If you need lessons, well, I’m not available tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Andy jeered. He held a beer in one hand; the other held his cue as if ready for another go.
“I’ll take lessons,” Whitey hollered, teasing. So named because of the pale blond hair he’d been born with, and since he was nearly born on the slopes and would probably die on the slopes. “Lessons on how you slay your tricks and make everyone else look bad until you land on your face and humiliate yourself.”
Garret threw back his head and laughed. So he was a little rusty in things. Whitey wouldn’t let him forget the tumble he’d taken on the mountains the first week he was home. They’d been snowboarding, taking bets as usual, and Garret had seriously lost his when he’d missed his landing after performing a three-sixty and falling face first.
It felt good to be home. He found solace in the arms of the mountains. The guys had no idea the baggage he carried. They wouldn’t treat him differently if they knew. Once, he’d share that baggage and beer around a campfire with friends. They would listen, laugh, then get drunk. Now he kept those burdens to himself.
Most days, he felt normal. Lord knew he did everything he could to appear normal. Only when he dwelled on the turmoil in his mind did he feel isolated, and he brought that on himself.
Garret drained his beer, slammed the bottle on an empty table, and handed his cue stick to Chayton. Slapping Andy on the back, he said, “Now this old man is taking his ass to bed.”
• • •
Reagan’s gut clenched as she thought of Ray, but she didn’t have words to mourn him as she walked back to the condo with Naomi.
Naomi went right to unpacking. Reagan sat alone on the bed in her room and stared at her tattered suitcase.
She hoped to learn more about Ray. Her mother hadn’t told her anything and had grown hateful when she couldn’t convince Reagan to stay in Florida. Her disdain only made Reagan more eager to make this trip and discover how their relationship went wrong.
Determined to stay as long as necessary, she scooted to the floor and unzipped her suitcase, lifting a shirt in an attempt to unpack. Limbs heavy and weak, she dropped the shirt. Pulling out a sock, the same heaviness overwhelmed her. She watched the sock fall into the suitcase amid other clothes, safe and cushioned among friends.
She hadn’t felt safe and cushioned in a long time, if ever. She’d wasted the last few years of her life clinging to an anchor that swayed with the slightest flurry, never able to fit in anywhere, even the graphic design career she’d put her whole life into. But besides losing a coveted promotion and living with a dirty cheating slimeball, her life had been tame and boring.
In another attempt to unpack and make herself at home, she flung a sweater across the room, away from the safety net of the luggage. It landed a few feet away and she reached over and grabbed it, returning it to the case.
She wanted to be here. She did. But she couldn’t unpack. Not yet.
If she unpacked, she might actually settle, and she never wanted to settle again.
She’d brought one bag, stuffing sweaters and shirts and pants into it just as her life was stuffed into the nooks and crannies of emotional baggage. One bag versus Naomi’s five. She didn’t want a lot of clothes to tie her down and if she stayed longer, she could shop for more. With the money Ray had given her, she wanted to shop for more.
She stood and plopped on the bed, falling into the mound of pillows. A small stuffed moose, propped against the pillows, bounced up and fell over. She gathered him in the crook of her arm like a baby and nuzzled his neck.
“You’re cute,” she whispered. “Who are you?” She flicked a finger across his floppy horns, wishing he could answer the question she’d been asking herself for the past few years. He wore a crocheted sweater with a moose stitched to the front and his arms stayed open as if waiting for a hug.
Rising from the bed, she kicked off her boots and paced the room with the moose in her arms. Although it was the master bedroom, Reagan couldn’t tell if it’d been the room where Ray slept. The tan walls and dark wooden furniture were masculine but presented many feminine touches — a sparkly music box on the dresser, the stuffed animal, mounds of pillows, burgundy sheets, and fancy drapes.
She considered calling her mom. She might know if Ray had been involved with someone special. Maybe this moose belonged to a girlfriend. If so, obviously she hadn’t been special enough to inherit his things.
But why was she? She didn’t even know him. Maybe now that Reagan was here, her mom would open up to her. Maybe if she could convince her mother to visit, she would be able to forgive her brother. She had to have sent him pictures of Reagan at one point in time. They weren’t school pictures, and Reagan never remembered having those taken. But how else would Ray have gotten them?
Jumping up, she dug her cell phone out of her purse and dialed her mother’s number. Her heart pounded as the phone rang in her ear.
“Hi Mom!” Reagan said, exerting an enthusiasm in her voice she didn’t feel.
“Reagan,” Sharon said, her abrupt voice already creating a rift.
“I’m here in Montana. In Ray’s bedroom.”
“Glad you made it.”
Reagan paused, pacing the floor. She was accustomed to her mother’s pithiness, but it hurt nonetheless.
“It’s beautiful here. Well, what I’ve seen so far. Which isn’t much. It’s too dark to see the mountains right now.”
“That’s nice.”
“Have you ever visited?”
“No. Never had a desire to go to such a brutal place.”
“It’s not that brutal.”
“You’ve barely seen it.”
“I’d love for you to come visit. There’s plenty of room for you to stay with me. I’d pay for your trip.”
“No.”
Frustration bubbled in Reagan’s throat. She tempered the need to let it out in shrilling curses. “Why not? This is your brother’s condo. You could see where he lived, meet his friends.”
“I have no desire to have anything to do with Ray.”
“You must have at one time or you wouldn’t have named me after him.”
Sharon’s lack of response was louder than anything she could have said.
Disappointed, Reagan let the silence linger a few moments like a bubbling battery, the acid coiling in her throat and ready to explode. Her eyes burned. Her skin tingled. She hoped her mom would relent and say something, but talking to her mom like a normal person was pointless. Reagan wondered if she was a normal person, or if she’d always been embittered.
Reagan took a deep breath, swallowed, and altered her course. “I found out what happened to Ray.”
Her mom continued to remain silent, but Reagan heard her short intake of br
eath. Maybe she did have feelings for her brother.
“He died on the slopes while ice climbing. He was alone.”
“I’m not surprised. Danger always attracted him.”
“What else do you know about him?”
“Not much.”
“Well, obviously he knew a lot about me. He has pictures of me all across his mantle. Did you send him those?”
“No.” Her mom’s slight rise in voice could have been because she told the truth and didn’t know anything about the pictures, or it could have been because she was lying. Neither option appealed to Reagan.
“I’m almost thirty years old, mom. Those pictures date back to my toddler days and all the way up to now. At least half a dozen, maybe more. Where has he been all these years?”
“Probably there. Maybe in prison. I don’t know.”
“You don’t know, or you don’t care?”
“Look, there’s no way you could understand the particulars of my relationship with Ray, so don’t bother trying.”
“How could I understand when you won’t tell me anything?” Reagan’s voice teetered on the edge of anger and despair. She’d always felt hopeless with her mother. There was no talking sense to Sharon when she had an opinion. She held grudges forever.
“You weren’t named after Ray. You were named after your grandfather. I’m glad you arrived safely. I’ve got to go now.”
Her mom hung up before she had a chance to reply. Reagan hurled the phone to the bed with an exasperated cry.
No wonder she’d had a lifelong urge to settle, yet still couldn’t find happiness. Her mother had been cold and unsupportive for most her life. She should have called her dad, but he acted like he didn’t know Ray. He’d tell her to call Sharon with any questions. But at least he supported her in everything else.
She stopped at the French doors and shifted the heavy drapes to look outside, but the darkness only revealed her reflection. Moving aside, she rubbed her nose against the moose’s furry forehead.
“What are you doing?” Naomi asked as she entered the room, startling Reagan.
Reagan kept her back to Naomi. “Meeting Dr. Till.”
“Doctor who?”
“Dr. Till,” Reagan replied as she held up the moose. The name had just come to her, and it sounded right. Naomi would think she was crazy, but he felt like a sign to her. He represented the physical metaphor of her insecurities. “He was sitting here atop the bed, all propped up as if waiting for me,” she explained. “He’s my doctor until I get my head back on straight.”
“Reagan darling, no stuffed animal will help you get your head on straight.”
“I beg to differ. He’s a sign.”
“A sign of what?”
“That I’m doing the right thing.”
“Of course you’re doing the right thing. Was there ever any doubt?”
Plenty of doubt lingered in Reagan’s mind over the past few weeks, building up to this moment. She’d doubted her decision over leaving her job, over her hasty move here, and the doubts plaguing her about Ray would never end. Should she have run from her troubles, only to come to a new place and create new ones? Or now that she left Florida, were those troubles gone for good?
She’d left her job and her boyfriend before ever finding out about the money, as if destiny had chosen her path. Now she didn’t have to work, at least for a while. But she didn’t believe in fate, and she worried this would all be snatched from her as fast as it’d been given.
This moose was the first thing she’d spotted in the condo that felt like hers. Reagan turned to Naomi to tell her so, but gasped before she managed another sound. “Oh my god,” she said as she spotted a fading yellow brown bruise on Naomi’s face.
“Oh shit.” Backing away, Naomi covered her cheek with her hand.
“Oh shit is right. I didn’t notice that before.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what makeup is for.”
“What did it look like a few weeks ago?” Reagan asked. The fading marks indicated it hadn’t happened yesterday, and Reagan could only imagine how it had happened. “Don’t tell me you ran into the door again.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Don’t worry about it?” Reagan advanced on Naomi and studied the bruise, swiping at it with her finger as if it could be that easily removed. She felt guilty that she hadn’t noticed it before. Sure, she’d been preoccupied, but she had to improve quickly if she was that unobservant. “How did I miss this?”
Naomi shrugged. “I’m good with makeup. I do fashion consulting for a living. I have certain tricks.”
Reagan dropped her hand and stepped away. “You’re seeing Caleb again.”
“No,” Naomi said, avoiding Reagan’s gaze. “Just don’t worry about it. I don’t want to talk about it so drop the subject, okay?”
“You’re seeing him again.” It wasn’t a question. Reagan couldn’t hide her disappointment. Caleb had been an on-again off-again fixture in Naomi’s life since high school. Every time Naomi hooked up with someone, Caleb showed up on Naomi’s doorstep. Reagan wondered how many chances Naomi would give him before she realized he wasn’t going to change.
“I’m not seeing him anymore.”
“But you were.”
“We’re just friends. And he didn’t do this.”
“No, I’m sure you just happened to run into the wall he shoved you into.”
“Reagan,” Naomi said in warning, holding up her hand to fend off any more words. “You couldn’t possibly understand.”
“Stop telling me what I will or won’t understand.” First her mom, now Naomi. As if the lost relationships in her life weren’t worth commiserating. Maybe her relationship with her ex had been superficial, but it didn’t mean she didn’t hurt at his deception.
She wanted a husband and kids, the proverbial white picket fence with a dog and two cats. Her biological clock was just like every woman she knew, and hers was close to expiring. But she wasn’t willing to sacrifice her integrity for that white picket fence.
Not anymore. Not after Kyle. Not after the job she’d put her life into only to have it all turn on her.
“I’m sorry.” Naomi slipped her arm around Reagan and tweaked the moose’s ear with her free hand.
“It’s okay.” Reagan looped her arm around Naomi’s back and leaned into the crook of her neck.
She didn’t want to fight. She’d already gone a few rounds with her mom and didn’t want another. When she’d found out about the condo, Naomi had been the first person — the only person — she’d wanted to come with her.
They stood together, facing the drapes as if waiting for it to open and welcome the encore of their life. Seeing Naomi like this reminded her they were both here for a reason, even reasons neither could explain.
And they’d both rather leave their past behind.
Chapter Three
Reagan opened her eyes the next morning and stretched, eager to greet the new day. Soft burgundy cotton sheets enticed her to burrow under the covers, but she could hardly wait to see the view outside.
The sun slipped through partially opened drapes. She hopped out of bed and dressed in her lush, cherry colored robe, the one thing she’d splurged on before coming on this trip. Her shoddy pink slippers, the one thing she should have splurged on but didn’t, went on next. Grabbing Dr. Till, she opened the glass doors in her room and stepped out on the deck.
It was cold. Icy, icy cold. She clutched the moose and huddled underneath the robe as she appreciated the view, more spectacular than she’d imagined.
Mountains. From one end of the earth to another. White layered the massive jagged peaks. A delicatessen with frosting. On her left, pine trees braced slopes that plunged into a rocky gullet of an iced creek. To the right, skiers ascended a lift, only to skirt trees and mountains in their descent, their path creating a sketch of lines as they slipped past her view.
“You’re letting in the cold.” Naomi, draped in a heavy blanket and
heavier boots, stepped outside and closed the door Reagan had left open. “And I’m in serious need of Starbucks.”
Reagan was too engrossed with the beauty to let the cold or her lack of morning caffeine bother her. This beauty was unlike anything she’d seen on the Florida coast, or any coast for that matter. The rich Florida sky lacked the detail of mountainous peaks and the crispy bouquet of unspoiled terrain. Where in Florida she’d be gaping out into the blues and greens of the water that loomed forever beyond her, here she gazed out into the blues and greens of ravaging cliffs and mountains that loomed forever around her. They both held their own allure, but this view felt more pristine, more fascinating.
More treacherous.
Just what she needed to begin her new and adventurous life. She’d given seven years of her life to a graphic design career that hadn’t given her a coveted advancement because the new girl had bigger boobs. Or at least that’s how she saw it.
She’d given two years of her life to a man who’d stopped sleeping with her but didn’t have any problems having another woman in their bed. Her parents’ vagrancy during her childhood left her restless, which is why she’d survived two years with a man she didn’t love and seven years with a job that barely paid the bills.
Kyle and her job had been her security blanket. A way to prove to herself she could stay in one place and be happy. But she hadn’t been happy. Only complacent.
“With a view like this, I’ll never have to wake with coffee again.” Reagan licked her lips, tasting the fresh, candied tang of cold. Last night, she’d been restive and unsure. These mountains, rising and dipping into and out of the earth, offered a recklessness she desperately wanted to experience.
“I agree,” Naomi said, shoving her elbow in Reagan’s ribs.
She turned in the direction Naomi all but forced her to look, and had to fight to keep her jaw from dropping.
“Morning,” a man said, tipping his coffee cup in a salute. Bundled in a dark green hooded parka and matching pants, he looked as if he knew how to dress for the weather.
Something she, obviously, didn’t.
Burn on the Western Slope (Crimson Romance) Page 3