by Lisa Jackson
Suddenly the cab felt close. The windows, streaked with rain on the outside, had fogged on the inside, closing Colton and Cassie from the rest of the world. She felt like biting her lip, but didn’t. “What would be the point?”
“Believe it or not, we might just have a good time.”
Cassie nearly choked.
“And I’d like to spend some time with you,” he admitted with a sigh. There was more to it, of course. Colton had argued with himself all day, knowing that being with her again would tangle him up in an emotional rope he wasn’t sure he could unknot.
Cassie watched his fingers drum against his knee, saw the dark hair that covered the back of his hand. Her pulse jumped, though she forced herself to ignore it. “I don’t know if I can—”
“Is your dad expecting you?”
“No.” She shook her head. “He’s used to me working late.”
“Then why not?” he asked, a small smile teasing his lips again. She caught a glimpse of his sensual mouth, felt her heart flutter, then turned her gaze to the keys in her hand.
“I guess there’s no reason,” she admitted, jamming the key into the ignition. “Where to?”
“How about Timothy’s?”
Her throat tightened. Timothy’s was a small, intimate restaurant on the far side of town. She and Colton had been there together years before. “Sure,” she said casually. “Why not?” She flicked on the engine, and the old truck roared to life. Her eyes sparkling, she asked, “Need a lift—or would you rather take your Jeep?”
Colton actually chuckled. “I’d rather ride with you.”
“Would you?” She couldn’t help but smile. “That’s a turn around.”
“Maybe not, Cassie,” he muttered to himself.
Her hands were shaking as she drove out of the parking lot and eased into the gentle flow of early-evening traffic. The wipers swished rain from the windshield, and Cassie squinted against oncoming headlights.
Colton slouched even lower, and she could feel the weight of his gaze upon her as she drove. She refused to glance in his direction, forcing herself to stare at the shimmering road ahead, concentrating on the traffic.
Timothy’s was perched on the banks of the Sage River, near the famous falls for which the town was named. Originally a flour mill, the rambling building was constructed of river rock, mortar and dark cross beams. Near the front door an old waterwheel still creaked and turned, with water splashing over its time-worn planks.
She climbed out of the truck and marched toward the restaurant, all too aware of Colton beside her. He didn’t touch her, didn’t so much as brush her arm, but she was careful to keep the distance between them wide as they hurried up the slick brick path to wide double doors.
Inside, a huge foyer was lit with flickering sconces and wagon-wheel chandeliers. The stone walls rose three full stories to an arched, beamed ceiling. The floor was smooth stone, and burgundy cloths covered the tables. Kerosene lanterns adorned each table, the quivering flames providing intimate illumination.
“I haven’t been here in years,” Cassie admitted, following a waiter to the back of the building.
Their table was private, near a huge bank of windows overlooking the swollen Sage River as it tumbled wildly over the falls. Filled with spring rain and the runoff from the mountains, the green water churned in frothy torrents, cascading over steep rocks, crashing some forty feet below to swirl in a swift current. Cassie, aware of Colton, stared through the glass.
“What would you like?”
To run away from here—from you. “Anything.” She forced her gaze to his.
When the waiter reappeared, Colton ordered for them both, then settled back in his chair.
Nervous, Cassie sipped from her water glass. Pretending interest in the wine list, she was able to avoid his eyes. Obviously he wasn’t going to make this easy.
“So,” she ventured, trying to appear calm, though a nervous sweat had dampened her skin. “What changed your mind? It must’ve been something earth-shattering for you to think you should apologize.”
“It was.”
The waiter brought their orders—crisp salad, fresh trout, steaming vegetables and a basket of sourdough bread. Once he disappeared again, Colton ignored his food. “You changed my mind, Cassie,” he said.
Her eyes flew to his, and he held her gaze, though she could swear his face had turned a darker shade. “Me?”
“All that self-righteous indignation the other day.”
“It got to you?” She could barely believe her ears.
He lifted a shoulder. “I guess.”
“So you think Dad’s innocent?”
Colton frowned. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he hedged, “but whatever happened with the horse, it’s over. As far as I can see, other than that I was made to look like a fool, there was no harm done.”
She eyed him thoughtfully. “You expect me to believe you?”
“Believe what you want, Cass,” he said with a sigh. “I just thought that instead of working so hard at fighting, we should try to be civil to each other.”
Her throat was suddenly dry. “Why?”
“It’s long overdue.”
Colton picked up his fork and cut into his fish, but Cassie ignored her meal. “So this is your grand gesture to end the feud, is that it?”
He shook his head. “Unfortunately I don’t think I can do that,” he admitted. “But I’d just like to start over with you.”
Start over. Cassie looked away. If only they could roll back the years and erase the pain that kept them apart. She tried to swallow a bite of bread, but it seemed stuck in her throat.
“I think we got off on the wrong foot the other night.”
“You think right,” she finally replied, trying to remember that she was supposed to detest him. “I’m not crazy about my family’s name being dragged through the mud.”
“Neither am I,” he said, his temper evident in spite of his efforts to remain calm. “And I’m not thrilled about looking like an idiot! Any way you cut it, the horse was stolen while I was in charge.”
“Maybe.”
Colton had trouble hanging on to his patience. “Anyway, as I said, it’s over. Let’s forget about Black Magic.”
“Amen,” Cassie whispered, wishing she could close the door on their past as easily. She toyed with her food, barely tasting it, watching Colton surreptitiously and wishing that all the questions raging in her mind would vanish. “You know,” she finally said when the silence stretched long between them, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
He shoved his plate aside. “Sometimes things don’t go as you plan.”
“Would you have come back on your own?”
“You mean, if I hadn’t been forced?” he asked, rubbing his shoulder unconsciously. “I don’t know. Probably not. There’s nothing here now,” he said, unwittingly cutting her to the bone. He thought aloud. “Mom and Dad were killed in the fire, and Uncle John died last year. I suppose I might have come back to see Denver once in a while, but I’m not sure about that. In case you don’t remember, we haven’t always seen eye to eye.”
“I remember,” she said softly, the memory of Denver intruding upon them at the lake all too vivid. Despite the years that had passed, her cheeks felt hot. “But you own part of the ranch now. John left half of it to you.”
Colton’s lips curled at the thought of his wayward uncle. “It was just the old man’s way of trying to tie me down. He knew I didn’t want anything to do with the ranch, not after the fire. Neither did Denver. But, at least in my brother’s case, it looks as if good old Uncle John won. Denver’s settled down and become a family man,”
“The ultimate sell-out,” Cassie observed, forcing a cool smile she didn’t feel.
“Not if it’s what he wants.”
“And what is it you want, Colton?” she asked, afraid she’d never have the opportunity to question him again. “Danger? Thrills? What?”
“Why do you care?
”
“It’s something I’ve always wanted to know,” she admitted. “Because all your life it seems that you’ve either been running from, or racing to, something. I just wondered what it was.”
The smile that had touched his eyes faded, and his lips thinned a little. “You never did understand me, Cass.”
“Because you never let me.”
They were suddenly alone, just the two of them in this crowded room. The quiet conversation and soft clink of silverware dissolved. Cassie heard only the sound of her own breathing and the loud thudding of her heart.
Colton drew in a swift breath, looked as if he was about to say something, but held his tongue.
The long, silent seconds ticked by until the waiter deposited their check on a corner of the table.
As if thankful for the intrusion, Colton snatched up the ticket, reached into his wallet, peeled off some bills and stood in one single motion. “I think it’s time to go.”
“Past time,” she agreed sadly.
They drove back to the parking lot of the clinic where Colton’s truck sat beneath the barren branches of a young maple tree. Cassie flicked off the engine and waited. “I guess I should say thank you,” she said, sliding Colton an uneasy glance.
“You don’t have to.” He reached for the door.
“No”—without thinking, she placed a restraining hand on his shoulder—“I want to. Thanks.”
Colton winced, and belatedly she realized she’d gripped his injured muscles. She tried to draw away, but he stopped her with his free hand, enfolding her fingers as his eyes met hers. “It’s okay,” he assured her. “And as for dinner, you’re more than welcome, Cass. Maybe we should consider this the beginning of the end.” When she didn’t reply, he glanced down at her hand, still resting lightly, teasingly against the soft leather of his jacket. “The end of the feud.”
“I think it’ll take more than one meal,” she said, grinning despite the tension she felt in the small, confined space. She slithered her hand away from his and saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.
“Probably.” His eyes locked with hers for an instant, and Cassie’s veneer of self-control slipped. She realized in that one sizzling glance that Colton wasn’t as immune to her as she’d thought. She recognized the shading of his gray eyes, the slight flare of his nostrils, the restraint in the skin stretched taut across his features. Though they weren’t touching, their bodies separated by inches of worn upholstery, Cassie could feel the heat in his stare, noticed the scorch of desire in the twist of his lips.
“I—I’ll see you later,” she said, willing her voice to remain steady.
“Right. Later.” Colton grimaced, and again he reached for the door. This time, however, he swore, and instead of lifting the handle, he twisted back, caught the back of Cassie’s head in one hand and pulled her face to his.
Cassie gasped but didn’t have time to resist. His lips found hers, and she felt the warm, insistent pressure of his tongue against her teeth. Her mind spun out of control, her pulse began to thunder, and she closed her eyes, allowing herself this one, tiny taste of pleasure. She knew that Colton didn’t care for her—no more than he had all those years ago—and yet she couldn’t stop herself from tasting him, feeling him, enjoying the bittersweet pressure of his mouth against hers.
His hand became tangled in her hair, and he groaned. When he finally dragged his mouth from hers, he stared at her through passion-glazed eyes. “Some things never change,” he whispered raggedly before unlatching the door and sliding outside. “Good night, Cass.” Without waiting for a response, he slammed the door shut and turned his collar against the wind. He strode across the parking lot, mentally kicking himself. Why had he kissed her? Why? That was a dumb move.
He yanked open the door of his truck, climbed inside and thrust his key into the ignition, swearing under his breath. If he thought kissing Cassie would convince him that it was over between them, he’d been wrong. Dead wrong.
“Fool,” he ground out, flicking on the ignition. “Goddamned fool!” He glanced in the sideview mirror and watched as Cassie pulled out of the lot.
What would it be like to spend a night with her? A weekend? One kiss had only whetted his appetite for more. Would a weekend in bed satisfy him—fill his need so that he could forget about her? Or would being with her become an addiction—the more time he spent with her, the more he would crave?
“Don’t even think about it!” he growled. The woman was trouble. Big trouble. And for once in his life, Colton intended to keep himself out of trouble.
* * *
Her father was in the living room watching television when Cassie walked quietly into the house. She could hear the laugh track from a weekly sitcom and Ivan’s soft chuckle.
She could tell he’d eaten, as she glanced around the kitchen. Though most of the evidence wasn’t in sight, as he’d washed his dishes, she noticed the leftover chicken he’d forgotten to wrap and place in the refrigerator.
“’Bout time you showed up,” he said when she hung her coat in the hall closet and poked her head into the living room. “Where ya been? Emergency?”
“Not this time.”
He glanced up. His reading glasses were perched on the end of his nose, his stocking feet propped on an ottoman. Only one lamp was lit, and the morning newspaper was scattered across an end table with one page folded to a half-finished crossword puzzle.
Cassie decided to come clean. Three Falls was a small town, and it would be better for Ivan to hear the truth from her before someone else spread the news. “I had dinner with Colton.”
Her father’s bushy brows rose. “Did you now?”
“Uh-huh. He was waiting for me when I got off work, and we drove over to Timothy’s.”
“Any particular reason?”
Anticipating a battle, Cassie drew in a long breath. “Believe it or not, it was his way of apologizing.” She dropped onto the couch beside her father and grabbed the paper with the puzzle.
“McLeans don’t apologize.”
Cassie grinned. “Well, it was tough. Colton’s not very good at it, but he seemed sincere.”
“Bah!”
“Prevaricator.”
“What?” He twisted his head around, looking at her as if she’d lost her mind.
“Eighteen down—liar. It’s prevaricator.” She handed the folded newspaper to her father, who scribbled in the answer.
“Just don’t go trustin’ Colton,” Ivan said, glancing up at her before filling in a few more letters.
“Because he’s a McLean?”
“That’s a good reason.”
“Dad,” she said gently, “don’t you think it’s time to end all this nonsense about a feud?”
“Never!”
“But John’s dead now.”
“That doesn’t change what he did,” Ivan muttered, his color rising. “And as for Colton, he’s very much alive and he’s as bad as his uncle. I haven’t forgotten how he treated you.”
“Neither have I,” she admitted, combing her hair back from her face with unsteady fingers. “But I’ve decided not to dwell on it.”
“That’s good.”
“And I’m not going to act like Denver and Tessa and Colton are a bunch of pariahs.”
“I’ve got nothing against Tessa Kramer,” Ivan said quickly. “She’s just a fool who lost her heart to a McLean. But Denver and Colton, I’ve got no use for them. Neither one of ’em would be here if they had their choice. They both made it clear to God and everybody around just what they thought of ranching. Too good for it, you know.”
“Denver’s back for good.”
“Well, who needs him? As for Colton, he’s just biding his time until he can leave, and I say the sooner the better.” He thrust his jaw out angrily before he looked up, his weathered face softening. “Colton hurt you once, Cassie. But you’re a smart girl. You wouldn’t let it happen again, would you?”
“Of course not!” she snapped quickly.
“I’m not really hungry.”
“Well, I am, so you may as well join me.” He straightened, rested a big hand on her shoulder a second, then made his way to the kitchen.
Cassie flung herself back against the cushions of the couch. Her father was right, of course. Colton McLean had only caused her heartache and grief, while her father had been strong enough to help her pick up the pieces of her life and put them back together. Ivan had done everything he could to help her—borrowed money to help send her to college, encouraged her to go on to veterinary school and had even suggested that it was time she moved out—found an apartment in town. He’d been absolutely wonderful—and he’d been burned twice at the hands of the McLeans. She wouldn’t let it happen again.
Cassie thought about her mother—beautiful, raven-haired Vanessa. Without a backward glance Vanessa Shilcoat Aldridge had left after her disastrous affair with John McLean had become common gossip. She’d returned to South Carolina where she’d found herself a wealthy doctor, remarried within a year and subsequently borne three children—Cassie’s half brothers and sister, whom she’d never met.
Cassie never saw her mother, nor had she heard from her. Not a card at Christmas, never a call on her birthday. No, Vanessa would never look back. Cassie knew that she and her father had ceased to exist in her mother’s mind.
Blinking against tears she’d sworn never to shed, Cassie tried not to think about her mother. Who needed Vanessa anyway? She and Ivan had done all right without her. But the weight in her heart felt like a stone.
“Rocky road or butter brickle?” her father called from the kitchen.
“Really, Dad, I’m not—”
“Oh, hogwash!” He chuckled and returned to the living room, carrying two huge bowls filled with both kinds of ice cream and oozing chocolate syrup.
“I’ll get fat,” she warned him.
“You?” He glanced down at her lithe body and handed her a dish. “No way! You’re built like me. Now, come on, eat up and help me with this damned puzzle.” He dropped back to the couch, studied the paper again and asked, “What’s an eight-letter word that starts with b, ends in a-l and means trick? The third letter’s a t.”