by Cheryl Holt
"I've got Merriweather's phone number," Chad mused. "Maybe I'll call him and see if he'd fire her. He can't be any happier about her antics than I am."
"She's harmless, Chad."
"No, she's not. She's a menace." He pointed to the diner. "Now march in there and set her straight—so I don't have to."
Pamela forced a smile and slipped out of the car. Chad raced off, and she watched until his taillights disappeared at the top of the hill. Then she turned to go inside, but Amy was exiting, her parka zipped against the cold.
Pamela frowned. "I thought we were having coffee."
"I thought we were, too, but I'm not in the mood for any of your craziness today. I was having heart palpitations just from thinking about talking to you."
"Well, that was…rude."
"Yes, it was."
Amy didn't apologize but started down the sidewalk. Pamela dawdled for a moment, then chased after her.
"Amy!" she snapped.
Her daughter whipped around. "What?"
They were on a corner where the old buildings made a wind tunnel. The frigid air curled Pamela's toes and had her eyes watering, reminding her of how much she hated the mountains, the altitude, the constant weather.
She'd been trying to convince Chad that they should head to Vegas or Mexico, but he refused to discuss it until after the sale with Merriweather was finalized.
"Chad asked me to mention a few things."
"What are they?"
"He's angry over your behavior toward Dustin Merriweather."
"I'm sure this will come as a huge surprise to you, Pam, but Chad's opinions don't matter to me."
"You can't keep aggravating the two of them."
"Why not?"
"They're rich and powerful, Amy. You don't realize how easily they're annoyed—or how viciously they might push back."
"What can they do to me that they haven't already done? Close down the paper and throw me out of work? Toss me out of my apartment? I'm looking for another job, and I'll lose my apartment despite what I do or don't do to Dustin Merriweather."
"If you continue to upset Merriweather, then Chad will be upset, too."
"Why would I care if Chad is upset?" Amy studied Pamela with disdain. "Oh, I get it. If I bug Merriweather too much, Chad will take it out on you."
"I simply don't know how you can stand all this conflict."
"I'm not having any conflict. What are you telling me? Are you telling me that you and Chad are having a tough time? Well, he's an asshole and always will be an asshole, and I can't help you with that."
She tried to walk on again, and Pamela stamped her foot like a petulant child.
"Amy!"
"What is it? Would you just say what you came to say? Has it ever occurred to you that I might be unhappy today? That I might be upset or feeling low? That things might not be so great for me right now? Why does it always have to be about you?"
Pamela pulled the envelope from her purse. "Chad wanted you to have this."
"What is it?"
"It's some money. He decided it would be better for everybody if you left town."
"Left…Gold Creek?"
"Yes."
"To go where?"
"Anywhere but here. You can't hang around and ruin this deal."
Amy scoffed. "He actually thinks I have some power over Dustin Merriweather? That is too hilarious to be true."
"You have to quit fighting them. You can't win."
"I'm not doing it to win. I'm doing it so Dustin Merriweather knows there are people in the world who don't worship him. Chad doesn't enter into the equation."
"If you won't listen to me—"
"You don't enter into the equation, either."
"—Chad might break up with me. He might never propose."
"I would consider that the best possible ending for you. I have no idea why you hooked up with him in the first place."
She stomped off, and Pamela stood alone on the deserted corner. Chad had meetings in Aspen and wouldn't be back until the following evening, so she was on her own. The quiet, gray day stretched before her like the road to Hell. She couldn't bear the expanse of solitary time.
She thought of Amy in her cluttered, cozy apartment. She thought of the twins, laughing and chatting as they watched TV or sat at the kitchen table, laboring over their homework.
"Amy"—she sounded as if she was begging—"I was wondering if you'd like to get together for supper. Why don't you bring the twins down to my house after school, and we'll order a pizza."
Amy stopped and glared at Pamela as if she'd spoken in a foreign language.
"You'd like to see the twins?" At the prospect, Amy was aghast.
"It would be fun. We could rent a movie and pop some popcorn."
Amy snorted and shook her head. "We're doing fine without you, Pam. It's how you've always wanted it, and we're doing just fine. We can't come to supper."
She huffed away, and Pamela didn't have the heart to call to her again.
* * *
"How is Bryce?"
"Great."
"And Peanut?"
"Cute. Smart. Entertaining."
Dustin peered over at his brother, Lucas.
Bryce was Lucas's ten-year-old son, the one he'd only recently discovered that he'd fathered. Peanut was their four-year-old half-sister, a new arrival to the family, too, a child their father had sired with a mistress.
They were in the mansion in Denver where none of them had ever lived. They kept it in their possession simply because of what it represented, because of their ancestors who had built it.
Lucas was lounged on a sofa and Dustin relaxed in an overstuffed chair. A fire burned in the grate.
They had an elderly couple who stayed on the property. They took care of the place during the long Merriweather absences. When family members deigned to visit, they served as cook and servant. Other than those two, Dustin was rattling around in the drafty, huge residence by himself.
He'd managed to get Chantal to the airport and on a flight to LA without too much trouble. She'd delivered a couple hundred hints that she wanted to remain in Denver, that she wanted to meet Lucas and see the mansion, but Dustin was in no mood to oblige her.
He hadn't relented, because she'd have annoyed Lucas and covetously eyed all the antiques, as if trying to decide how she could snag them for her own.
He supposed he'd call her again when he was home, but he'd lagged behind in Denver merely to avoid a plane trip with her. But to pass the hours after she left, he'd phoned…Lucas? He'd been that desperate for company.
They weren't close and never had been. They'd rarely spent time together as boys, and they didn't have much of a background that would make them friends, but their father's death had set off a year of changes.
Dustin wasn't sure where any of them would end up. Before it was over, maybe he and Lucas would actually wind up acting as siblings should toward one another.
At the moment, Lucas lived in Boulder with Faith. He was carrying on like an ordinary man, playing at husband and father, and unwilling to uproot Bryce and Peanut. He seemed delighted with the path his life had taken, but he was surrounded by a house full of women and kids and stuck in the middle of hectic wedding preparations.
On learning that Dustin was in Denver for the night, he'd offered to drive into the city, and Dustin had been lonely enough to agree that he should.
"How were things in Gold Creek?" Lucas asked.
"About as dreary as you described them to be."
"What did you think of Chad Paltrow?"
"He's a creep."
"It doesn't matter—so long as his money's good."
Typically, Dustin would have concurred. The consequences of his actions never worried him. He was spoiled and vain and hated fussing with details. He simply forged ahead, without looking in the ditch to see who he might have run off the road.
"What about the pest at the newspaper? The one who's been complaining about the sale?"
"Amy Dane."
"That's her."
"I bought the paper and shut it down."
"Excellent."
"Then I opened it up again." Dustin's cheeks flushed with chagrin. "I hired her back."
"Okay…" Lucas frowned. "And you did that because…?"
"She's young and poor and taking care of her two little sisters. There was an elderly woman who'd always worked there, too. I couldn't kick them out."
"You're going soft on me."
"I guess."
Dustin was still trying to figure out why he was so enamored of Amy Dane.
Every trait she possessed was a trait he loathed. He liked females who were beautiful and sophisticated, who could walk into a room and silence it with their poise and deportment, who knew who he was and fawned over him because of it.
Amy was brusque and funny and ridiculous. She wasn't impressed by his name or his fortune or his position in society. She wasn't intimidated by him, didn't believe he was marvelous, and apparently, he liked her much more than he should.
From the minute he'd stormed out of Gold Creek, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her.
He wondered what she was doing at that very second and if she might be thinking about him, too. Was she missing him as he was missing her? His heart was aching, and he rubbed a hand over his chest.
Lucas was gaping at Dustin as if he'd lost his mind, so he stood and went over to the window, which was pointless. It was dark and cloudy outside, so there was nothing to see, yet he gazed off to the west, where Amy lived high up in the Rockies.
He dawdled for a long time, sipping his drink, listening to the log cracking in the grate. Finally, he turned and posed the question that had been nagging at him.
"What if we didn't sell to Chad?"
"Not sell? What would we do with all that rundown property?"
"Fix it up? There's a hotel there that was remodeled to look as it did back in the mining heyday. It was really nice. We could do the same to the other buildings, maybe make the downtown into some kind of convention center or something similar, where people would be lured by the ambiance."
Lucas scowled. "Are you feeling all right?"
"Yes, why?"
"Those were just some of the oddest words to ever come out of your mouth."
Dustin pondered his brother's assessment, then nodded. "I agree. It's a stupid idea. Forget I mentioned it."
"I wouldn't say it was stupid. It would simply take an enormous amount of effort and money, and I don't have the energy for it." He paused. "Do you?"
"No."
"You'd have to stay up there full time to supervise the construction."
Dustin gave a mock shudder. "Leave LA? Wear snow boots and a parka year 'round? I can't imagine it."
"Neither can I. You always hated the cold."
"I'm sure it's best to sell," Dustin murmured, struggling to convince himself.
"I'm sure it is, too. And with Chad Paltrow chomping at the bit, we can unload it fast."
Dustin knew Lucas was correct, but he couldn't help considering Amy's opinion.
If she could hear him and Lucas blithely discussing the sale, what would she say? She'd been so concerned about the locals—such as herself—who would be displaced by rising real estate prices, and he couldn't envision her being forced out.
When he was in LA, he would fondly reminisce about her still renting the cozy attic of his family's old mansion. He liked to picture himself visiting Gold Creek someday and finding her there. He'd give her her scarf—show her some small-town manners—and sit at her kitchen table to enjoy a bowl of stew.
It was a soothing reverie, and he couldn't bear that his actions would destroy it.
He didn't remember much of what he and his brother talked about after that. The hour ticked by, and Lucas grew anxious to head for Boulder. He didn't want Faith to worry, which was such a strange trait to see in his brother.
Dustin walked him to the door, bereft over Lucas's departure, over being on his own in the house with only the ghosts for company.
"Faith told me," Lucas said as he stepped out onto the front porch, "to invite you to Thanksgiving dinner."
"Thanksgiving dinner?" Dustin replied, aghast, as if the request was obscene and incomprehensible.
There had certainly been few such celebrations in his own life. His mother had never brought him home for any holidays. He'd been one of those pitiful kids who'd remained at school and eaten in the cafeteria with the other students who'd had nowhere to go.
"Faith does it up in grand style," Lucas explained. "The turkey and trimmings, the family together at the dining room table, the good china and crystal glasses. It's a big deal with her. And that's just Thanksgiving. At Christmas, she's even worse."
Faith had been an orphan, raised in foster care, so people mattered to her as they never had to Lucas or Dustin. When she loved, it was real and true and everlasting. Lucas was lucky to have found her, and Dustin was mildly jealous.
"What about her sister, Angela?" Dustin asked. "That might be awkward. Would she be there?"
"No. She moved to Missoula with some guy."
Dustin had a history with Angela that was despicable, and he couldn't socialize with her and pretend all was fine. So he was relieved that she wouldn't attend.
Still, he said, "I probably wouldn't come anyway."
"Why not? Live a little. Try new things."
"The idea of a family gathering is a bit much for me."
"It is for me, too, but I'm giving it a shot."
Dustin chuckled. "I hope you survive it."
"I will, and I'm betting you'll be there in the end."
"Why would you bet that?"
"Because you don't know Faith. She's like a force of nature, and she always gets her way."
Like Amy, Dustin mused.
"Be careful driving," Dustin said.
"I will. Call us," Lucas insisted, "and keep us posted on what's up with you."
Dustin was riveted by the word us. Not me. Us.
Lucas and Faith were no longer separate. They were a unit, a pair, a dynamic duo, and nothing would ever again be the same.
Lucas hurried to his car, and he was practically skipping with happiness at the thought of heading home. He waved to Dustin.
"See you at Thanksgiving."
"Don't count on me."
"We'll see."
He jumped in and headed off, and Dustin returned to the drafty, quiet house all alone.
CHAPTER SIX
Amy snuggled in the window seat of her apartment and stared out at the night sky. Huge snowflakes were drifting down onto the deserted streets below, making the town look like a magic spot in a fairytale.
The month of November was flying by, the holidays swiftly approaching. Typically, it was her favorite time of year, but for some reason, she couldn't muster the excitement she would have previously.
Ever since Dustin Merriweather had blustered into her world, then left in such a hurry, nothing had been the same.
While she viewed herself as easy-going and content, after meeting him, she'd been a total grouch. She was fussy and impatient, even with the twins who were well-behaved and never upset her.
"Jerk," she muttered to the dark, stormy clouds.
Though he'd said he wouldn't ever contact her, she kept thinking he might. Whenever the phone rang, she jumped. She constantly checked her emails, and his silence was deafening. He was her boss, for heaven's sake. She'd assumed he'd call just to ask how the newspaper was faring.
But no. He'd vanished as quickly and completely as he'd arrived.
She didn't understand why she was so disordered by his departure. She didn't even like him. He was rich and rude and overbearing, certain that he was always right and that his opinion was the only valid one.
They were all traits she hated in a man, so why she would spend a single second pining away was a mystery she couldn't unravel.
She was so pathetic!
; A noise creaked out on the stairs, on the last flight that led up to her apartment, which was extremely odd. She frowned.
It was very late, and she was the only person still awake in the whole town. No lights were on in any of the other houses.
The stairs creaked again, and quiet footsteps stopped directly outside. Her frown deepened. She wasn't nervous about having a visitor. Whoever it was, it would be someone she knew. She slid to her feet, marched over and yanked the door open.
Dustin Merriweather was standing there. The sight of him was so unexpected that she blinked and blinked, positive she was hallucinating. But it was him, in the flesh.
He looked better than he did in any of her tormented memories. A California tan bronzed his skin, his hair was tousled from the wind. Snowflakes dotted his leather jacket. In the dim, narrow landing, his blue, blue eyes sparkled like diamonds.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
He grinned a sexy, tempting grin that made her knees weak.
"I had to return your scarf."
"Thanks."
He held it out, and she took it, but it felt heavy, and she dropped it on the floor.
They were awkward, smiling, and she was swamped with happiness.
"Did you come to Gold Creek just to see me?" she inquired.
"No, so don't get a big head."
"Then why did you come?"
"I hadn't met anybody as crazy as you in the past few weeks, so I was bored." He raised a brow. "Are you going to invite me in?"
"I haven't decided. What's in it for me?"
"If you let me in, I'll show you."
"Will I like it?"
"Of course—since I'll be the one dishing it out."
He walked across the threshold, instantly taking up all the space in the room.
"Are you sisters in bed?" he asked.
"Duh. It's midnight on a school night."
"Does that mean they are?"
"Yes."
"Good."
He pulled her to him so that her front was pressed to his all the way down. He was tall and buff and solid, his shoulders wide and strong. They were the kind a woman could lean on when she was weary or afraid, when she was in trouble or all alone and needing someone to watch her back.