CASSIDY HARTE AND THE COMEBACK KID

by Reanne Thayne

  Wade began to wind down, and she forced herself to pay attention as he reached what she discovered was the real reason for his call. "One of the repertory companies in Jackson Hole is doing a production of Shenandoah. It's getting fairly good reviews for a small theater, and I've got tickets for Sunday night. Would you be interested?"

  His voice was tinged with a faint hesitation that only intensified her self-disgust. These days Wade offered each invitation with the wariness of a child whose fingers had been slapped one too many times, but who still couldn't help hoping this time he might be able to reach the cookie jar.

  What was worse? she wondered. Continuing to turn down his tenaciousness in the hope that he would eventually give up? Or dating him when she knew she would never be able to feel anything more than friendship for him?

  She opened her mouth to decline once more, then she caught sight of Zack leaning against the door frame, looking lean and tawny and gorgeous. The heartless, cheating son of a gun.

  She jerked her gaze back to her desk and winced as she heard her next words tumble out. "Sure," she told Wade. "Sounds like fun."

  An awkward pause simmered across the line and she knew he was taken aback that she had agreed but he quickly recovered. "Great. Show starts at eight. I'll pick you up at six and we can have dinner first. Will that work?"

  "Yes. Oh, no. Wait a minute." Her Sunday commitments jostled through her memory. "I'll be having dinner at the Diamond Harte on Sunday with my brothers. We always do."

  "Oh." The disappointment in his voice was painful to hear.

  She caught sight of Zack again and swallowed her resigned sigh, trying to inject enthusiasm in her voice. "We can eat early and finish up by six-thirty. Why don't we skip dinner together and just go to the show? You can pick me up at the ranch."

  The polite thing would be to invite him to dinner with her family but she didn't want anybody—especially not Wade—getting the wrong idea.

  "That would be great. I'll spend the rest of the week looking forward to it."

  "Me, too," she lied. "I'll see you then."

  As soon as she hung up the phone, Zack uncoiled from the wall to loom over her. "Big plans?"

  "A show in Jackson." She busied herself pretending to tidy up her desk, just to give her hands something to do.

  Zack was quiet for a moment, then his mouth tightened. "I don't want you going anywhere with Lowry. Call him back and tell him to forget your plans."

  It took several moments for the sheer audacity of his words to pierce her brain. When it did, she could do nothing but stare at him. "Excuse me?" she finally managed to exclaim.

  "He's trouble. Stay away from him."

  "Trouble? You're warning me that Wade Lowry is trouble?" She didn't know whether to laugh or scream. She thought she had been as angry as she'd ever been that morning in the kitchen, but when it came to Slater she was discovering all her emotions were on a short fuse, just looking for any excuse to come brimming to the surface.

  "I'm serious, Cass. I don't want you going out with him."

  "And I don't want to be the topic of dinner conversation at every house in Star Valley tonight because you showed up again," she snapped. "Here's a little life truth for you, Slater. One I learned the hard way. We don't always get what we want."

  A muscle in his jaw flexed. "What would you think if I told you Lowry is one of the reasons I left town?"

  She eyed him skeptically. "If I believed you—which I absolutely don't—I would probably think I should just run over to the Rendezvous right this minute and give Wade a big, sloppy, wet kiss for doing me the biggest favor of my life."

  His face went completely still, and she thought she saw a glimmer of hurt in his gold-green eyes. For one terrible moment she had to fight the urge to apologize to him. As if she had anything to be sorry about in this whole awful mess!

  "Stay away from him," Zack finally growled. "I don't trust the man. You shouldn't, either."

  He turned on his heels and walked out of her office, taking with him any soft feelings toward him she might have been crazy enough to entertain for even a second.

  Furious with the blasted man and with herself for being such an idiot about him, she picked up the paperweight shaped like a chef's hat that Lucy had given her for Christmas. With all the strength and technique Alvin Jeppson had tried to drum into her head through those years of coaching, she threw it as hard as she could at the door frame where Slater had just been leaning.

  It bounced off with a loud thud, leaving a big, ugly nick in the wood, then clattered to the floor.

  She'd chipped it, she saw when she went to pick it up. Just a little on one side, barely noticeable, but still, tears pricked behind her eyelids. She blinked them back. She refused to cry over a silly little paperweight, even though it had been a gift from her beloved niece.

  And, damn it, she wouldn't cry for Zack Slater, either.

  * * *

  He had no business here.

  In Star Valley, at the Lost Creek, and especially not camped out on the front porch of Cassie's cabin. The porch swing chains rattled as he shifted position, watching moonlight gleam like mother-of-pearl across the gravel pathway leading to the main lodge.

  Why wasn't she home? The dining room had closed more than an hour ago and all the guests at the ranch were either taking an evening ride around the lake or playing board games at the main lodge or relaxing in their cabins.

  So where was Cassie? If these were the kind of hours she kept, he was going to have to do something about it. It wasn't healthy, physically or mentally, no matter how much she loved her work.

  He heard his own thoughts and grimaced at the irony. He was a fine one to talk. He'd spent just about every moment of the past ten years pouring his blood and sweat and soul into Maverick, trying to make it a success.

  The magnitude of what he had accomplished still sometimes made him sit back in wonder. The kid of a dirt poor drunk had no business wheeling and dealing with the big boys.

  While he listened to the night seethe and stir around him, he thought of the strange, twisting journey that had begun when he left Salt River a decade earlier. He had wandered aimlessly for a while, then had joined up on the rodeo circuit, looking for a bit of quick cash.

  Amazingly enough, right out of the gate he'd won a couple of fairly decent bronc busting purses, fueled more by reckless despair than any real skill on his part. He wasn't aware of any kind of conscious plan at the time, but some instinct had led him to him plow the money into investments that had paid off.

  He had turned around and invested those dividends again, then again and again, hitting big on just about everything he turned his hand to. Much to his surprise, he discovered he had an uncanny knack for predicting market trends. Through that knack, a lot of hard work and a few mistakes along the way, he had built Maverick into a huge, highly successful company.

  By all rights, he should be deliriously happy. He had just about everything a man could want. Everything he'd ever dreamed about.

  Hell, more than that. A decade ago, he hadn't had any dreams. Whenever he pictured the future—something he didn't like to do muck back then—he figured he would turn out just like his father, a penniless drifter always looking to see what was over the next hill.

  Cassie had given him the rare and precious gift of faith. She had believed in him, had seen potential he'd never even suspected lurked inside him. Even after he left her, he had cherished that gift. Without it, he probably would have lived out that prophesy and become just like his old man.

  Yeah, he had just about everything he'd ever wanted.

  Except Cassidy Harte.

  He gazed out at the moonlight, remembering the silk of her skin and the slick, incredible heat of her mouth under his. Even after a decade, the memory of her enthusiastic, wholehearted response to his touch was still as strong and as vivid as it had been the day he drove out of town with his heart shredding into little pieces.

  The way things were going, he had
a fairly strong feeling he would never again taste her mouth or feel those small, competent hands caress him. He blew out a breath, cursing again the tangled whims of fate.

  Why the hell did Melanie have to leave the same night he did? It would have been hard enough trying to explain everything to Cassie, trying to make things right again, without the onus of trying to explain away the unbelievable coincidence.

  Maybe he should give this whole thing up. Just go on back to his life in Denver and get on with things, forget about trying to repair the damage of his decisions.

  He fiddled with a loose link on the swing's chains. He didn't want to give up. Not yet. He needed to talk to her, at least. He owed her an explanation that was ten years overdue.

  He had tried to tell her earlier in the afternoon. That's why he had gone in search of her after his dismal trip into Murphy's, to set the record straight. He'd gotten a little sidetracked, though, when he had overheard her on the phone with Lowry.

  Fierce jealousy hadn't been the only emotion curling through him when he pictured the two of them together. He didn't like the idea that Cassie could ever be mixed up with scum like Lowry.

  He sighed and shifted in the swing again. Jealousy hadn't been the only emotion but it had been by far the strongest. Even though logic told him he had no right to be jealous—absolutely no claim over her—he had about as much control over it as he did that moon up there.

  He leaned his head back, watching the path for some sign of her and listening to the chirp of crickets, the tumble of the creek behind the cabins, the far-off whinny of a horse....

  He must have dozed off. He wasn't sure how long he slept but he awoke to find her propped against the porch rail watching him, her arms folded across her chest and her face in shadows.

  "Hi." He heard the sheepishness in his voice at being caught in a vulnerable moment and tried to clear it away. "You're late."

  The moon slid from behind a cloud, and he saw her raise an eyebrow. "I didn't realize I had a curfew."

  "You put in long hours. Too long. Is it like this every day?"

  "No. Not usually. Claire Dustin, one of the wranglers' wives, usually helps out with breakfast but she's in Bowman catering her sister's wedding this week." She paused. "I'm thinking she'll make a good replacement for me. I'll talk to her about it when she gets back Monday. If she's agreeable, I can start training her right away."

  "That eager to be gone, are you?"

  She said nothing for several moments, then straightened from the porch railing. "I'm tired, Slater. As you said, it's been a long day. To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure I have enough energy left to tangle with you again tonight."

  "I don't want to fight. I just want to talk to you. Explain a few things."

  "I don't think I have the energy for that, either."

  He should just let her go inside and sleep. But he didn't want this ugliness between them any longer. Not if he had any chance of clearing it away. "Please. Sit down."

  She was quiet for a long time watching him across the width of the porch with only the night sounds between them—the cool sigh of the wind, the crickets' chatter, the creek tumbling along behind the trees.

  Just when he began to fear she would ignore him and march into her cabin, she blew out a breath and slid onto the swing next to him.

  Now that she was there, he didn't know where to begin.

  "Gorgeous view from here," he finally said, which wasn't at all what he wanted to talk to her about. Still, it was the truth. He could see the Salt River Range behind them. Even in mid-June, the mountains still wore snowcaps that gleamed bluish white in the moonlight.

  The Lost Creek had a prime location on a foothill bordering national forest land. From here he could see small glowing settlements strung along the Star Valley like Christmas lights.

  "I like it," she finally murmured.

  "I would have to say it's almost as nice as the view from the Diamond Harte."

  "Almost. Not quite."

  The pride in her voice for her family ranch made him smile. Although he knew she wouldn't be able to see much in the darkness, he could feel the heat of her gaze on him. What she could see apparently displeased her because her voice was curt when she spoke. "I'm tired, Zack. What did you want to talk about?"

  This wasn't the way he wanted to do this, with her already testy and abrupt. But it didn't look as if she was going to give him much of a choice.

  "I'm sorry about this afternoon. About Lowry."

  "You should be."

  He winced at the residual anger in her voice. He wasn't sorry for warning her about the bastard, just that he had gone about it the wrong way.

  She didn't give him a chance to explain. "I find it unbelievably arrogant that you think you can blow back into town like nothing happened and start ordering me around," she snapped.

  "I don't think that."

  "Don't you?"

  "No!"

  "Let's see." She ticked off his shortcomings on her fingers. "In the thirty-six hours since you showed up again, you have blackmailed me to keep me from quitting my job, you have once more dredged up old, painful gossip about me all over town and you have commanded me not to go out with a man I've known most of my life. Seems to me you're working pretty hard to control me."

  Put so bluntly, he could understand why she would be more than a little annoyed with him. Maybe he had been a little heavy-handed since he'd seen her. What other choice did he have, though?

  "I didn't come to fight with you, Cass. We need to talk. I'd like to clear the air between us."

  "I really don't think that's possible." Her voice was small and maybe a little sad, which gave him some hope.

  "Will you let me at least try?"

  She remained silent, which he took as assent. Where to start? he wondered, gazing out at the mountains. At the crux of the matter, he figured.

  "I didn't leave town with Melanie."

  She froze, stopping the swing's motion mid-rhythm. "We went over this earlier. I don't want to hear it again."

  She started to rise but he held a hand out to keep her in place, brushing the denim of her jeans as his hand covered her leg. She jerked away from his touch but stayed in the swing beside him, which he took as a good sign.

  "Please. Listen to me. I know you're going to find this an amazing coincidence—hell, I have a hard time believing it myself—but I left alone. I swear it."

  "So how did Melanie leave town? Teleportation?" A thin shear of skepticism coated her voice. "Her car was left in the parking lot of the Renegade. She was last seen climbing into your pickup truck, then the two of you were observed going at it inside the cab like a couple of minks. Are you saying everybody else who saw you two drive off together was lying?"

  "No. They weren't lying. We did drive off together."

  She made a hmmph kind of sound and folded her arms across her chest. He sighed. This was going to be much harder than he expected.

  "You know what Melanie was like. She was wild. Out of control. That night she was drinking like a sailor with a three-day pass and throwing herself at anybody in sight. I offered to give her a ride home because I knew she was too drunk to be safe behind the wheel of a car. When she climbed into my truck, she attacked me."

  "Oh, you poor helpless man. I'm sure that was just terrible for you."

  "It was, dammit! I couldn't stand her. I was engaged to marry the woman I loved and didn't want to have anything to do with someone like Melanie Harte."

  Cassie remained stubbornly silent, her arms folded tightly, and he knew with grim certainty that she didn't believe a word he was saying.

  "She kissed me," he tried again. "Started grabbing me as soon as she climbed into the truck. I told her to stop. I thought she was going to behave herself but as soon as we pulled out of the parking lot, she started all over again. Eventually I told her I would just leave her on the side of the road if she didn't cut it out. She laughed and said I wouldn't dare, that if I did, she would tell you I put the moves
on her."

  His memory of this was hazy because of what had happened later that night but he tried his best to reconstruct it. "I laughed at her. I told her you'd never believe it. She was crazy that night, though, and wouldn't stop. About the third or fourth time she tried to grab my crotch, I pulled over just outside the city limits, yanked her out of the truck and drove away, to hell with being a gentleman. That's the last time I ever saw her. I swear."

  She didn't answer for several moments. When she spoke, her voice was subdued. "And somehow in the middle of all that, you just decided to keep on driving, right? Tell me, Zack. When did you decide you weren't really in love with me? When did you realize you couldn't stomach the idea of being married to me and decided running was a better option?"

  Was that what she thought all these years? Of course, he answered his own question, his heart aching. What else could she have thought?

  "It wasn't like that, Cass," he murmured, wondering how much to tell her about the other events that had unfolded that night. Ten years later it all sounded so inconceivable, even to him.

  Who would she be more willing to believe the worst about? People she has known and cared about all her life or the man she had spent years believing had betrayed her in the worst way possible?

  He didn't want to make her have to choose. Truth was, he was afraid where he would stack up. But he had to give her some kind of explanation. If he didn't, the past would remain an insurmountable wall between them and she would never let him through.

  "After I dropped Melanie off, I drove back to the Diamond Harte, then started to feel a little guilty about dumping her out like that in the middle of nowhere. Once I cooled off, I realized I couldn't leave her alone in the dark to find her own way home. I imagined her falling into the river or something else terrible happening to her, so I turned around to go look for her."

  "And did you find her?"

  "No. I just figured somebody else must have given her a ride. But while I was looking for her, I stumbled onto something else. Something illegal."

  "What?" She sounded every bit as skeptical as he expected.