by Liz Isaacson
“Celia’s in there,” he said by way of explanation. “And if we want to keep this—” He lifted their joined hands. “A secret, she probably shouldn’t know about it.”
“Celia Armstrong?”
“Yeah, she’s the lodge cook.”
“You mean your personal cook,” she wasn’t asking, and plenty of playfulness entered her tone.
“Not really,” he said. “She cooks for family meals and things like that. Graham hired her to cook for the guests at the lodge.” He cut her a look out of the side of his eye. “We have guests that stay on the top floor and in the basement.”
“So you have the whole main floor?”
“Well, me and Bree.”
Becca stopped walking though the stables were in sight down the hill a bit. “You and Bree?” She didn’t shrill out the words, but she didn’t know he had a female roommate. “You failed to mention her.”
“She’s our groundskeeper and decorator,” he said, giving her a quizzical look. “I told you about her.”
“Not that she lived here. Celia doesn’t live here, does she?”
“Well, no. She stays over sometimes though, if the weather’s bad.”
Becca cut him a glance out of the corner of her eye. “Then why does Bree live here?”
“She does all the landscaping and gardening. Oh, and she took over Eli’s job of booking the lodge and is our event director too.” He shrugged, seemingly undisturbed that he lived with this woman. “So it makes sense for her to live on-site.”
“Who is this ‘our’?”
He started walking again, slower than before. “Graham bought the lodge when he moved back to Coral Canyon, but he married Laney and lives down the road at her ranch. He brought all of us home—well, me and Eli—to help with the lodge and the energy company so he could focus on his robotics. Making the lodge a vacation destination was really Eli’s pet project, and he left a few months ago for California.”
“You miss him?”
“Sure, I guess.”
There was something more there that he wasn’t saying, but Becca didn’t know what question to ask to draw it out of him.
“So…Bree, how close is her room to yours?” Why Becca cared, she wasn’t sure.
“Just down the hall.” He paused outside the stable doors and looked at her, his eyes keen and searching.
“What?” she asked.
“You’re jealous.”
“Uh, yeah. I just found out my handsome cowboy boyfriend lives with another woman.”
He reached up and cradled her face in his palm. “It’s not like that, Becca. You know that, right?”
“Mm hm,” she said, because he was moments from kissing her, and she didn’t believe that he could kiss her with as much care and passion as he did and like another woman.
“Because it’s not like that,” he said. “Not even close. She works for our family.”
Becca leaned away from him, causing him to drop his hand. “I work for you,” she said, searching his face for more of an explanation.
He blinked as he realized his mistake. “Well, that’s different.” He reached for the door to the stable.
“How so?” she asked, following him inside.
“You don’t live here.”
Becca didn’t quite get what the difference was. But he stopped in front of a tall horse and said, “You’ll ride this one. Her name is Second to Caroline. She’s Eli’s favorite horse.”
“Which is your favorite?”
He immediately walked down the aisle and lifted his hand to stroke a brown and white horse. She followed him and read the nameplate on the outside of the stall. “Wolfgang.”
“Wolfy for short.” He gazed up at the horse with adoration in his eyes, and Becca memorized that softness there, hoping he’d look at her like that later today, preferably right before he kissed her.
He led the horses outside and saddled them, impressing her with his cowboy skills. “All right,” he said. “Up you go.”
Becca searched her memory for how to get on a horse. She hesitated too long, because Andrew said, “Left foot here,” and tapped the stirrup on the side of the horse closest to her. “Push yourself up. Throw your leg over.”
Becca put her foot where he said, but it felt like her knee was all the way to her chin. She bounced on her foot and pushed, but she didn’t get anywhere.
Andrew burst out laughing, and Becca stumbled with her left foot still in that blasted stirrup.
“Whoa,” he said as if she were the horse, and dashed behind her so he could catch her should she fall. The strength of his body behind her brought her comfort and relief, but she didn’t lose the battle to gravity.
She did get her foot out of the stirrup, and said, “I think I need a box.” Her brothers had helped her younger sister onto a horse with an apple box.
“Oh, no you don’t. I’ll help you.” He edged in closer behind her, leaving very little room between her and him, as well as her and the horse. “Foot up,” he said, his voice rumbling through her back.
Please don’t let me mess up again, she prayed as she put her foot in the stirrup. He counted down, and she jumped, feeling his hands tighten on her waist as he practically threw her up. She managed to get her other leg over and onto the horse, a feeling of triumph spreading through her.
He swung onto his horse with little effort, and they set off for the tree line. “How long since you’ve ridden?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“You’re gripping those reins like they’ll save you.” He grinned at her, and she tried to relax.
“It’s been a while,” she admitted, chancing a glance at him.
“Well, it’s a lot like kissing then. You’re doing great.”
“Ha ha,” she said, only not rolling her eyes because she was worried she might lose her balance if she didn’t stare straight ahead. “Very funny.”
He continued to chuckle, and Becca liked the sound of his throaty laughter and the sight of him atop that pretty horse. As they walked beneath the limbs and among the pines, Becca couldn’t recall a time when she felt happier.
If she could hold onto this feeling—and him—for another couple of weeks, her relationship with Andrew would be one of her longest. As they settled into silence, her worries became full-fledged. What if they broke up before the tour? How awkward would that be? Would she even have a job?
She tried to push her rotating thoughts away and enjoy the horseback ride with her secret cowboy billionaire boyfriend, but they would only go so far.
“Do you need this scarf?” Raven held up a navy and white polka-dotted thing that Becca had charged to Springside Energy and never worn.
“I don’t know.” Becca felt completely out of control with two suitcases open on her bed and the tour starting the following day right there in Coral Canyon with a huge press conference on the steps of City Hall.
She turned in a circle, trying to remember what she had been looking for when Raven asked about the scarf.
Her dark-haired friend stepped in front of her and put her hands on Becca’s shoulders. Raven’s nearly black eyes searched Becca’s lighter ones. “I’ve never seen you like this. Even when we were planning that big march in Cheyenne.”
Becca didn’t want to think about that. That had been a worthless protest that had taken her somewhere she hadn’t wanted to go. But she had been nervous, because she knew she shouldn’t have been going to Cheyenne.
Did that mean she wasn’t supposed to go on this tour with Andrew? Their relationship had survived the last two weeks. More than survived. Thrived. She liked him, really liked him, and the feeling seemed to be mutual.
“Talk to me,” Raven said.
“I’m nervous because I’m dating Andrew Whittaker,” she blurted.
Raven’s eyes widened and she fell back several steps until she hit the window seat. She sank to a sitting position and asked, “You want to run that by me again?”
“Andrew and I are dating.”<
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“Your boss?” Raven wore a strange sort of smile. Almost giddy, and yet still a bit horrified. “You’re dating your boss.”
“He’s not my boss. We work together.” Becca turned away from her best friend, feeling a bit calmer now that someone knew.
“How long has this been going on?”
“Our first date was the day we went shopping.”
Becca jumped to her feet. “You’ve been dating him for weeks! Why didn’t you tell me?” She seemed hurt and yet excited at the same time. “I feel like an idiot now, trying to get you to double with me and Matt.”
“No, no, it’s fine.” Becca picked up two socks that matched and balled them before throwing them in one of her suitcases. She’d mostly be wearing heels but she’d brought her running shoes and planned to use the hotel gyms if she needed to work off some extra anxiety.
“Have you kissed him?”
Becca shrugged, all the answer Raven needed to shriek.
“Becca, this is huge.” She moved to stand beside her again. “I can see why you’re nervous.”
“Why is this huge?”
“Oh, let’s see. You haven’t dated anyone since Jarom, and that guy was totally not worth the time you mourned him. Second, he’s the only man you’ve dated longer than a month, and you’re almost there with Andrew now.”
Becca knew. Though she didn’t want to, she’d been counting the days, almost expecting Andrew to break things off by day twenty. Or twenty-one. But it was twenty-three now, and they were going on a three-week tour together tomorrow. Would that take them to forty-four days, and if so, how much longer would it last? Christmas? Could she make it to Christmas before she drove him away?
“I can see this isn’t all about the tour.” Raven abandoned the folding and sorting and packing of clothes.
“Of course it’s not.” Becca picked up a blouse and put it down again, not in the right frame of mind to decide if she needed it or not. She couldn’t sit on the bed because of all the clothes and bags. “I’m not sure I can keep his attention for much longer.”
“Becca,” Raven said reprovingly. “Of course you can. You’re the smartest woman I know.”
“He’s smart too.”
“So what?” Raven brushed Becca’s hair off her shoulder. “That just means he knows what a gem you are.”
“I’ll annoy him eventually. Too many questions.” She shook her head, remembering a few days ago when she’d taken her list into his office and bothered him until he’d answered all her questions. He’d once told her to ask anything she wanted, that he needed her to so he could see situations from all sides.
“Becca—”
Thankfully, Becca’s phone rang, interrupting Raven’s reassurance. “It’s Andrew. Excuse me.” She took a few steps away from her best friend and faced the window. “Hey.” She wasn’t sure if she sounded softer or happy to hear from him or not, but Raven giggled behind her.
“You got arrested in Cheyenne?” he practically barked.
“Yes, I mean, it wasn’t really an arrest.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before? I can’t believe I’m hearing about this the night before our announcement.”
“Why does it matter?” she asked, her defenses flying into place. “I spent the night in jail with over two hundred other people. They didn’t book us or file charges. It was a stupid march. No one got hurt.”
“It matters because the press secretary for Springside Energy will be under scrutiny from every county and every energy company starting at eight a.m. tomorrow.” He huffed out his breath. “We need to meet and discuss damage control. Maybe write a quick piece about what it was and why it doesn’t matter.”
“I haven’t packed—”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He hung up, leaving Becca with a stone in her chest where her heart used to be.
She turned back to Raven, her phone hanging loosely in her hand at her side. “He found out about Cheyenne.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t know already.”
“He didn’t ask. I didn’t have to do a background check.” She felt like crying, but she lifted her chin. “He’ll be here in a few minutes. You’ll probably want to go.”
Raven gripped her in a tight hug and said, “He likes you. It will work out.”
Becca nodded and gave her friend a quick smile, wishing her mom was there to point her wooden spoon at the Collings family motto: Things always work out for us.
She had it painted on barn slats, in vinyl letters on a rock in their front garden, and had made keychains for all the kids one year for Christmas when Becca was seventeen.
Raven left, and Becca followed her out into the living room so she could get things worked out with Andrew and their tour.
Thirteen
Andrew took the steps to Becca’s front door in two leaps, pausing before he could bang down the door. But seriously? An arrest. How had he missed that?
You’re angry at yourself, he told himself. Calm down.
He glanced up into the sky and prayed Help me speak kindly.
He couldn’t think of much else to pray for, so he reached over and pressed the doorbell, something he’d done over a dozen times now, usually with a bag of food in his hand and anticipation building in his stomach for when he’d get to kiss Becca again.
He wasn’t thinking about kissing now.
She opened the door, her chin already lifted and her eyes blazing. “Come in,” she said in a professional voice. “I have everything on the computer for you.”
Andrew tried to tame his glare, but from Becca’s stoic expression, he hadn’t succeeded. She turned and walked into her house, leaving him to follow her. No hello. No smile or squeal of delight at seeing him.
He really didn’t like this tension between them, but he went into the living room and sat in front of the laptop she had open on the counter. “I’m going to go pack.” She disappeared, and Andrew peered at the screen, an image of a lot of people marching down the street, carrying protest signs not all unlike the one that had hit him a few weeks ago.
He recognized this march, and it had to do with equal rights—a worthy cause. So why had she been arrested?
The article didn’t say much, only that a few hundred people had been taken in for questioning. They were held overnight and released, and his anger simmered away into frustration and then foolishness.
She hadn’t really been arrested, just as she’d said. “Becca,” he called, not wanting to go into her bedroom.
“Yeah?” She walked down the hall and paused at the edge of the living room.
“Why would Stuart Musgrove call me and say you’d been arrested?” He stood from the counter, curiosity burning through him now. “On a Sunday, no less.”
“The day before the tour starts.” Becca’s voice sounded a bit hollow, and her eyes had glazed over at the first mention of Stuart’s name. She snapped back to attention and looked at him. “Do you think he knows about the robot?”
“No.” Andrew shook his head with complete confidence. “We’ve kept that knowledge under lock and key. Need-to-know basis only.”
“Then it has to do with me,” she said.
“Everyone would know about the press conference tomorrow, and you’re listed as the first speaker.”
She looked like she was about to be sick, what with her face all pale like that. “I went out with Stuart a couple of times,” she said. “Maybe three. He was…insufferable. When he called to ask me out again, I said no.”
Andrew’s eyebrows went up and he took another step toward Becca. “Insufferable?”
“He’s a know-it-all.” Becca waved her hand dismissively. “It was just after the march, so he knew I’d spent the night in jail.”
Andrew tilted his head, wondering what that night would’ve been like. “Any other marches or fake arrests I need to know about?”
“Probably,” Becca said. “Didn’t you say our worst dirt would be thrown at us on this tour?”
; That he had, but he also thought he’d known what the mudballs would be made of. This news of her being taken in for questioning after a rights march had set him all the way to hot in a single breath.
“I’m almost done packing,” she said. “I’ll be ready in the morning.” She turned to go down the hall.
“Becca.”
She paused, but she didn’t look at him. Something had changed between them now that he’d called angry, now that he’d let his emotions show, now that he’d indicated that he didn’t trust her.
You’ve always let your emotions show when it comes to Becca. In fact, he was able to be himself around her, one of the things he liked most about her. She never judged him when he griped about the accounting department. Consoled him when one of the biggest towns near their dig sites had refused to let them come speak at an official city event.
Becca had been the one to suggest holding an event under two huge white tents, with hot chocolate and pastries, to talk to the people on Musgrove Creek about the robot. Not only that, she’d coordinated the whole thing. Rented the tents. Ordered the food. Printed up flyers and made digital ad materials for their social media.
“Thanks for stopping by,” she said, walking away. He stood in her living room for another few moments, but she didn’t come back. Her message was clear—show yourself out, Andrew.
So he did, wishing he could apologize for the accusatory nature of his phone call and visit. He flipped his phone over in his hand. Over and over. Finally, he called Graham, who probably wouldn’t answer as it was Sunday afternoon nap time at the ranch where he lived.
“Hey,” he said in a whisper. “What’s up?”
“Real quick: Is it lame to send an apology in a text?”
“To who?”
“Becca.”
“Yes.”
“Okay, thanks.” Andrew hung up and looked at Becca’s front door. He’d tell her tomorrow. He still had all of his own packing to do, another brief to read, and he needed to go over his speech with Celia.
So he backed out of Becca’s driveway and headed back to the lodge, the weight of the tour feeling as big as the earth. And because he was nowhere near as strong as Atlas, one wrong step would send everything crashing down.