“It’s not like that.” Sierra sat up, cradled her head in her hands. “It’s Esme’s eighteenth birthday dinner. A family event.”
“Even better—family? Hello, Sierra. He wouldn’t invite you to a personal dinner unless he wanted to get, um, personal.”
Sierra gave her a look, something she hoped would shut Willow down. “He doesn’t feel that way about me. Trust me—I barely kept my job today. He nearly died, and I freaked out—”
“And then he shows up on your doorstep, asking you out? Yes, your job is definitely in jeopardy.”
“Don’t be silly, Willow. It’s for Esme. To celebrate her accomplishments, apparently.”
Willow pushed herself off the bed. “I might be young and silly, but even you should be able to do the math, Sis. You freaked out and he realized you have feelings for him. Decided to act on it because he has feelings for you.” She headed to the closet. “Now, what can you wear that might bring out the more personal side of Ian Shaw.”
Sierra got up, shoved herself in front of the closet, bracing her hands on Willow’s shoulders. “Trust me, this is not going to go well.” She pushed Willow back to the bed until she sat on it.
“Why not?”
“Because I caught Esme in bed with her boyfriend this morning.”
Willow’s eyes widened, and see, this is why Sierra shouldn’t go to dinner tonight. She had this problem of just blurting things out.
“Seriously?” Willow asked on a breath of disbelief.
“Okay, in their defense, they were fully clothed, but…I don’t know. I do know she begged me not to tell Ian.”
“Of course not.” Willow scooted back to the headboard, picked up a pillow, cradling it. “I knew she and Dante were dating. But that boy is a passel of trouble, from his wide shoulders to his mischievous dark eyes. And charming—the kid has charisma dripping off him. Half the girls from the youth group have had crushes on him.”
“Oh, no—he’s not a player, is he?”
“No. I don’t think so. He’s a reasonably nice kid. He went on a mission trip last year and his faith seemed genuine. He’s going on the youth group camping trip this weekend. But, he shouldn’t be in her bed—even if they were only fooling around.”
“Exactly. I’m so angry at Esme. She’s been accepted to a dozen colleges, even wait-listed for Yale, and she hasn’t decided on any of them. My guess is it’s because of Dante. She told me they want to get married. I can see danger all over this thing. Sort of reminds me of—”
“A certain hockey player who shall not be named?” Willow made a face.
Memories. Pain. Sierra was still getting over Rhett, in many ways. “Exactly. She’s going to get in over her head, sacrifice her future, and get her heart broken.”
“No flashbacks there,” Willow said.
“Right. But I also know that she trusts me, and I don’t want to wreck that,” Sierra said. “So, I agreed to let her tell Ian about her plans on her own—tonight, at dinner.”
Willow’s mouth made a round O of understanding.
“So, you can see why this is not a date.”
But Willow didn’t nod. “Or…you’re there to help keep Ian calm. To make sure she tells him the truth, and to be his friend. Which is the basis of all good relationships.”
Sierra gave her a look. “It wouldn’t work, Willow. I’m not in Ian’s league—”
“Hardly! He’s not in your league!”
“That’s nice of you to say, but take one good look at my closet. Thrift store dresses, faded, worn jeans, yoga pants, and printed T-shirts. Do any of these outfits say ‘country club’ to you?”
Willow had gotten off the bed, came to stand beside her. “Funny, Ian never seemed very country club to me. But he’s got the hot, billionaire cowboy look down in spades.”
Yeah, Ian had all the big toys and fancy house trappings of his wealth, but no, he hadn’t exactly adopted the playboy lifestyle. Most of the time he hung around in his faded jeans and a T-shirt, occasionally throwing on a sports jacket, and wore cowboy boots instead of fancy dress shoes.
Although Ian could easily grace Page Seven of any paper with his rugged good looks, the way he kept himself toned, working out in his private gym. More than once Sierra had stood paralyzed in the hallway watching him workout, attack the hanging bag, his stomach muscles in ripples, his biceps thick in his arms.
This was getting way too personal for her own good.
“I should call and cancel.”
“Or—” Willow reached into the closet and pulled out a coral eyelet sundress with a scooped neck, conservative but pretty. “You could put this on, leave your hair down, paint those toenails, put on a pair of sandals, and help distract Ian from the Drama Bomb Esme is about to drop.” Willow winked. “Maybe even hang around for the messy aftermath and do some clean up.”
“You’re way too romantic, Willow. This isn’t going to end well.”
“You’re not romantic enough, Sierra. I promise, you listen to me, and you’ll end up in Mr. Wonderful’s arms.”
“Yeah, trying to keep him from strangling his niece.”
“Then you’ll save a life, too.”
Three hours later, Sierra felt pretty sure the life she should be saving was her own as she walked through the Golf Club dining room to Ian Shaw’s table. He’d chosen a table in a private alcove in the main dining room. A fire flickered in the giant river stone fireplace, a violinist accompanied the pianist at the grand piano in the corner.
Ian rose to greet her. Tonight he looked more billionaire than cowboy. He wore a gray summer suit, something tailored for his wide shoulders, trim waist, strong legs. A white shirt and gray tie. Behind his tight smile, something tentative hovered in his eyes, and it brought her back to that odd please he’d tacked onto the end of his request.
In truth—although she hadn’t mentioned it to Willow—it scared her how much it rooted inside her, stirred dangerous feelings.
Anything for you, Ian. Frankly, it was probably the please more than anything that made her put on makeup, curl her hair, let Willow paint her toenails and convince her to drive out to the greens of the Whitefish golf course.
Please let her be a help, and not a catalyst, to disaster this evening.
“You look really nice, Sierra,” Ian said as he came around to pull out her chair.
Esme sat across from her, dressed in a simple black dress, her sunshine blonde hair up in a messy bun. She smiled at Sierra, something tight and forced.
Oh, yes, this would be fun.
“Happy birthday, Esme.”
“Thank you. Uncle Ian just gave me my present.” She opened the square velvet box and showed Sierra the gold necklace with the pendant Ian had had made for her. She handed it to him to put it on her.
“It’s beautiful,” Sierra said, and tried to put a have you told him yet? into her eyes.
“I hope it’s okay,” Ian said. “We ordered bruschetta.”
She didn’t want to say that, if she considered the writhing of her stomach, probably she should stick to clear broth.
Ian smoothed his tie, sat down. Took a breath. “So, I wanted to ask you, Esme, if you’ve settled on a college yet. You have quite a pile of letters, from what Sierra says. And…” He reached into his suit coat and pulled out an envelope. “This came from Yale.”
He added a smile, so much pride in it, Sierra wanted to reach out, touch his hand, give it a squeeze.
Brace yourself.
Esme, however, took the envelope with more excitement than Sierra would have expected.
“Really?”
“I called the admissions office, so I know—they moved you off the wait list. You’re accepted for this fall.”
Esme opened the envelope, scanned it. “You’re right—they’re holding a space for me.”
Without a doubt, Ian had something to do with this opportunity, but Sierra didn’t ask, just held her breath.
Please tell him, Esme. Because Sierra couldn’t bear all thi
s joy on Ian’s face. Or his words.
“You know, if you want to go to Yale, your way is paid.”
He’d always been a generous man, but when Esme moved in, all that generosity had a focus, a plan.
It wasn’t Esme’s fault her mother had made one mistake after another, her life in constant financial and relational disaster. If Ian hadn’t taken Esme, they’d probably be living in their car. And if Esme didn’t choose, right now, this moment, she might end up—
“Thank you, Uncle Ian!” Esme got up, threw her arms around him.
Oh.
Um.
Esme sat back down. Her eyes were actually filled with tears.
Huh.
And what about Dante? Sierra stared at Esme, her smile fading, her gaze burrowing into her. Tell him. Esme avoided her gaze
The waiter came with bruschetta.
Sierra had lost her appetite.
Maybe the girl needed a little nudge. “I’m sure Dante will really miss you when you leave for college.”
Esme smiled. “He will. But he’ll be busy, too. I told Uncle Ian our plans—how Dante’s going to join the navy.”
Oh.
Sierra glanced at Ian. “And you’re okay with that?”
Ian reached for a bruschetta. “I think military service is perfect for a kid like Dante. He’ll thrive there.”
Now she was completely baffled.
“And what about Dante and Esme?”
Ian looked at her. “I suppose they’ll figure it out.”
Figure. It. Out.
She looked at Esme again, who just smiled at her. Bit into her appetizer.
Okay, something didn’t smell right, but Sierra hadn’t a clue how to sniff it out without outing Esme right here in the middle of the country club dining room. The drama just might make the Flathead Valley paper, and she couldn’t do that to Ian.
But, she had an obligation to Ian. “So, Esme, I was wondering if Dante is going on the camping trip this weekend?”
She expected Esme to flush, maybe shift uncomfortably, but the girl simply lifted a shoulder. “Yeah. He’ll be there. We’re going to hike to the Glacier Park Chalet.” She looked straight up at Sierra, her blue eyes suddenly a very mature cold.
Something was rotten in the state of Denmark. Sierra had been a sneaky teenager once. Knew a few tricks. Sierra turned to Ian. “I was wondering if you were serious today, Ian, with your idea of going camping with us. It’ll be fun.”
Ian looked at her then, put down his bread. And suddenly his guarded look dropped, something of warmth lit his eyes. “Really?”
She glanced at Esme, whose smile had vanished, and yep, Sierra knew it. The girl hadn’t told him everything.
But Esme could hardly escape telling Ian the truth when it showed up right in front of him, as Esme and Dante gave in to the urge to snuggle in front of a campfire, or sneak off to go stargazing.
Sierra wouldn’t have to tell Ian anything—he’d figure it out on his own.
“Yeah. It’ll be fun. I made cookies.” And then, just for good measure, and because, well, she hadn’t thought it all the way through, she added a wink.
Really, Sierra? Maybe that was a little over the top. Especially when Ian gave her a surprised smile, a texture in his eyes she’d never seen before. Warmth, even delight.
It ignited inside her all those things she’d tried to keep tamped away, the dark wishes she harbored as she stood outside his world.
It was better, however, than the turn-her-to-ash glare Esme was leveling at her from across the table.
“I’m in,” he said. “Sounds like fun.”
Oh, yeah. Fireworks, parades, and bonfires.
Except, in her gut, she knew someone was going to get burned.
Chapter 4
Ian took a resounding hit to his jaw, the pain blooming through his face. He dodged back.
“Keep your hands up,” Deputy Sam Brooks said, a gleam in his eye as if Ian hadn’t landed a solid left jab in his gut only moments before, Ian had met the younger man through his sparring coach—Smoke Dillinger. Sam had no problem showing up to go a few rounds against Ian and, as evident from the darkness in his blue eyes and the way he went after Ian, he clearly had a few demons he was trying to escape.
Still, Sam was the closest thing Ian had to a real friend in Mercy Falls.
Around them, in Dillinger’s Gym, locals gathered as Sam and Ian sparred UFC style in the center ring. The musky smell of sweat layered the walls, hung in the air. Not far away, someone banged away at a speed bag. Others jumped rope. The low afternoon shadows streaked the wood floor a rich umber.
Ian’s body burned with the blows Sam delivered, his brain clearly not on the pseudo-fight.
Sam came around, hooked his leg around Ian, and threw him down. Ian rolled away before Sam could pin him.
“You okay, Ian? You’re usually faster than that,” Sam said.
No. Yes. Confused. “Fine.”
But he couldn’t get Sierra’s wink out of his head. The second Sierra had looked at him with those incredible hazel-green eyes, the ones with the power to tunnel right through him, and winked, his heart had simply stopped beating.
Sam’s right hook spun Ian around into the ropes.
“Okay, that’s it. What gives?” Sam asked as Ian shook it off, found his feet.
“It’s nothing.”
Sam was unstrapping his sparring gloves. “Nothing enough for me to dust the floor with you.”
Ian unstrapped his own gloves. He threw them off as he stepped out of the ring, grabbed a towel. Sam swept up a water bottle, squirted liquid into his mouth, then let it dribble over his head.
“I want to ask Sierra out.”
Sam lowered the bottle. “Seriously? Isn’t that a breach of etiquette?”
“Maybe.”
“So are you going fire her so you can date her?” Sam wound a towel around his neck. “Seems like a drastic move to get a dinner date. I would think it wouldn’t be that hard for you to find a woman willing to spend a couple hours over candlelight and steak, McDuck.”
“Funny. I don’t want a date. I want...I like Sierra. She’s kind, and generous and thoughtful.” Actually, that didn’t even come close to all the ways she made his life feel whole.
“And, she’s your assistant.”
“I know.”
“So, then you are going to fire her.”
“No!” He picked up his own water bottle, headed to the locker room. Sam followed him.
Ian banged his way inside, opened his locker. Hung his hand on it. “I don’t want her to work for anyone else. Show up to organize some other man’s life, laugh at his lousy jokes, send him funny memes…” Generally, fill another man’s life with sunshine and hope? “No way.”
Sam had picked up his shampoo, another towel. “Which means what? An inappropriate boss-employee relationship? I’m starting to get a queasy feeling.”
Ian, too. He headed to the showers.
“She invited me camping,” he said over the spray.
“Alone?” Sam said from his cubicle.
“No—with the youth group, tomorrow.”
“I’m going on that, too,” Sam said. “But there’s your chance. You’re on neutral ground, champ. Woo her there, and then see what happens.”
Yes. Ian could take her on a romantic walk, let the sprinkle of stars and the stir of the night sounds woo her into his arms. And then he’d softly suggest he didn’t want to be her boss—or only her boss—anymore.
He could have both, right? And he sort of hoped, crazily, that she might be thinking the same thing. Why else would she invite him along?
Yes, Glacier National Park, with its sweeping views, was exactly the place to convince her to see the bigger picture. That they could have both worlds.
He just had to get her alone.
He spent the next twenty-four hours armed with that thought.
About twenty-five kids jammed into the Mercy Fall Community Church the next morning.
Ian had been surprised to see Chet King helming the expedition along with Ruthann, his wife. She looked better—her hair growing back, a little tan, only the slightest scars of the cancer that had ravaged her body this winter.
Sam pulled up in his truck and made a point of meeting Ian’s eyes, glancing at Sierra. Grinning.
Yes, she was there. Wearing a pair of green cargo pants, hiking boots, and a sleeveless shirt, her sleek black ponytail snaking out the back of a baseball hat. She looked about twenty-one, fresh, and suddenly way too young for Ian.
Oops. He’d forgotten that part. That, really, he had nearly eight years on her.
What had he been thinking? But Ian didn’t have a chance to flee, because Chet reeled him in as if he belonged instead of only stepping into church for the first time since arriving in Mercy Falls. “I need you to chaperone, keep an eye on the boys.”
“No problem,” Ian said, casting his gaze toward Esme hanging out with Dante. Ian hoped that she’d use this trip to break the news that she planned on heading East at the end of the summer. No need to lead Dante on or let him pine for her even if they had made plans to date long distance.
But, he made a point of pulling Willow, who seemed to be one of the junior leaders, aside to quietly ask her to assign Esme to Sierra’s tent.
It didn’t hurt to have another set of eyes on his niece. He’d been camping in the park before—things happened, people got hurt, went missing. Especially in a crowd this size.
The crew took a couple SUVs and the church van up to the Trail of the Cedars, where they parked, hauled in their gear to the campground, then started their adventure.
They hiked up Avalanche Creek to Avalanche Lake, an easy trek for the group on a boardwalk that cut through hemlock and fragrant red cedar. Ian barely noticed, his eyes on Sierra, who talked with one of the girls, the sound of her occasional laughter finding him like a breeze, urging him forward. He’d nearly sidled up to her at the footbridge that overlooked the gorge.
But he’d been distracted by the sight of Dante leaning in behind Esme. Uh, too close, buddy.
The group took off then, heading into a steep climb, and he’d stayed back, helping a couple of stragglers.
If Ever I Would Leave You: A Montana Rescue Prequel Page 4