The Rancher--A snowbound Western romance

by Joanne Rock

“Only if you chose to be. I’m happy to escort you. At least until you got settled in.”

  The offer was thoughtful, if completely unexpected. Still, it bore consideration if the threats against her kept escalating.

  “I hope it doesn’t come to that,” she told him truthfully. “But thank you.”

  “Just remember you have options.” He turned on the long private drive that led to her villa on the lake. “You’re not in this alone.”

  She was tempted to argue that point. To tell him she felt very much alone in her quest to learn more about Zach since Miles refused to talk about their mutual friend. But he was here with her now. And he’d said they needed to help each other. Maybe he was ready to break his long silence at last.

  Yet somehow that seemed less important than the prospect of spending time alone with this man who tempted her far too much.

  * * *

  Miles recognized the couple waiting in front of Chiara’s villa as he parked the vehicle. The tall, athletic-looking brunette was Chiara’s assistant, and the burly dude dressed all in black had been Chiara’s bodyguard the night of the party at Mesa Falls Ranch. The two held hands, wearing matching tense expressions. They broke apart when Miles halted the vehicle but still approached the passenger door as a team.

  “They must have seen photos from the police department parking lot online.” Chiara sighed in frustration as she unbuckled her seat belt and clutched her handbag. “I’ll just need a minute to bring them up to speed.”

  “Of course.” Miles nodded at the muscle-bound man who opened Chiara’s door for her. “Take your time. I’ll check out your lake view to give you some privacy.”

  “That’s not necessary,” she protested, allowing her bodyguard to help her down from the vehicle.

  Opening his own door, Miles discovered the tall assistant was waiting on his side of the Land Rover. Meeting her brown eyes, he remembered her name from the party at Mesa Falls.

  “Hi, Jules,” he greeted the woman, who had to be six feet tall even in her flat-soled running shoes. She wore a sweater and track pants, seemingly unconcerned with the cold. “Nice to see you again.”

  “You, too.” She gave him a quick smile, but it was plain she had other things on her mind. A furrow between her brows deepened before she lowered her voice to speak to him quietly. “I wanted to warn you that while you were out with Chiara today, you attracted the interest of some of her fans.”

  “Should I be concerned?” He stepped down to the pavement beside her while, near the rear of the SUV, Chiara related the story of what happened at the police department to her security guard.

  “Not necessarily.” Jules hugged her arms around her waist, breathing a white cloud into the cold air. “But since Chiara’s fan base can be vocal and occasionally unpredictable, you should probably alert your PR team to keep an eye on the situation.”

  “I’m a rancher,” he clarified, amused. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to ward off the chill of the day. “I don’t have a PR team.”

  “Mesa Falls has a dedicated staffer,” she reminded him, switching on the tablet she was holding. A gust of wind caught her long ponytail and blew it all around her. “I remember because I dealt with her directly about the party at your place. Would you like me to contact her about this instead?”

  Puzzled, Miles watched the woman swipe through several screens before pausing on an avatar of the Montana ranch.

  “Just what do you think could happen?” he asked her, curious about the potential risks of dating someone famous.

  If, in fact, what they were doing together could even be called dating. His gaze slanted over to Chiara, who was heading toward the front door of the villa, flashes of her long legs visible from the opening of her coat. He realized he wanted more with her. At very least, he wanted a repeat of their incredible night together. Preferably, he wanted many repeats of that night.

  Beside him, Chiara’s assistant huffed out a sigh that pulled him back to their conversation.

  “Anything could happen,” Jules told him flatly as she frowned. “You could become a target for harassment or worse. Your home address could be made public, and you could find yourself or your family surrounded in your own home. Your business could be boycotted if Chiara’s fans decide they don’t like you. People have no idea how brutal it can be in the public eye.”

  She sounded upset. Miles wondered what kinds of things Chiara had weathered in the past because of her fame.

  He felt his eyebrows rise even as the idea worried him more for Chiara’s sake than his own. “I appreciate the warning. If you don’t mind sending a message to the Mesa Falls publicity person, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Of course.” She nodded, tapping out some notes on her tablet even as snowflakes fell and melted on the screen. “And you should consider security for yourself once you leave the villa. At least for the next week or so until we know how the story plays out.”

  “I’ll consider it,” he assured her, sensing it would be better to placate her for now, or until he had a better handle on the situation for himself. He didn’t want to rile Chiara’s assistant when the woman already seemed upset. “Did today’s incident cause problems for you?”

  Jules shoved her tablet under her arm again. “For me personally? Not yet. But having her photographed in front of a police station is already causing speculation that we’ll have to figure out how to address.”

  He nodded, beginning to understand how small missteps like today could have a big impact on Chiara’s carefully planned public image. “I should have taken steps to ensure she wasn’t recognized.”

  A wry smile curved the woman’s lips. “Bingo.”

  “I can’t fix what already happened today, but I can promise I’ll take better care of her in the future,” he assured the woman, gesturing her toward the house.

  Jules pivoted on the heel of her tennis shoe and walked with him toward the stone steps at the side entrance. “If she keeps you around, I would appreciate that.”

  Miles chucked softly as he opened the front door for her. “Do you think my days are numbered with her after this?”

  “No. Well, not because of today. But Chiara is notoriously choosy when it comes to the men in her life.” She lowered her voice as they crossed the threshold of the huge lakefront house.

  From the foyer, Miles could see Chiara standing with her bodyguard in the kitchen. Behind her, the setting sun glittered on the lake outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  “That’s a good thing.” Miles was damned choosy himself. Until Chiara, he hadn’t let any woman close to him for more than a night ever since he’d accidentally ended up dating the same woman as his brother. “I admire a woman with discriminating taste.”

  Jules laughed. “Then maybe you two have more in common than I would have guessed. I’ve worked with Chiara for three years, and you’re the first man she’s ever changed her schedule for.”

  He wanted to ask her what she meant by that, but as soon as the words were out, Chiara entered the foyer alone. Something about the way she carried herself told him she was upset. Or maybe it was the expression on her face, the worry in her eyes. And damned if he hadn’t spent enough time studying her to recognize the subtle shift of her moods.

  “Jules.” Chiara still wore her long coat, her arms wrapped around herself as if she was chilled. “Stefan went out the back to the guesthouse, but he said he’ll meet you out front if you still want to head into town.”

  Jules looked back and forth between them, but then her attention locked in on Chiara, perhaps seeing the same stress that Miles had noted. Jules stroked her friend’s hair where it rested on her shoulder. “I don’t want to go anywhere if you need me.”

  Miles wondered if he’d missed something. If the photos online were a bigger deal than he was understanding. Or was it his presence causing the added stress?

  “I can
take off if this is a bad time,” he offered, unwilling to stay if they needed to take care of other things. He’d come a long way from the guy who’d written off Chiara’s job as glorified partying, but no doubt he still didn’t understand the nuances of her work, let alone the ramifications of the day’s unexpected encounter with her fans.

  Chiara’s green eyes lifted to his. “No. I’d like to talk.” Then she turned to her assistant and squeezed Jules’s hand. “I’m fine. But thank you. I want you to have fun tonight. You work too hard.”

  “It never feels like work for me when we’re hanging out,” the other woman insisted before she gave a nod. “But if you’re sure you don’t mind—”

  “I insist.” Chiara walked toward the oversize door with her. “Stefan already has two guards watching the house tonight, and Miles will be here with me for a few more hours.”

  He couldn’t help but hope that boded well for their evening together. Although maybe Chiara was just trying to soothe her friend’s anxiety about leaving her.

  In another moment, Jules departed, and the house was vacant except for the two of them. The sound of the door shutting echoed from the cathedral ceiling in the foyer. Chiara took a moment to check that the alarm reset before she turned toward him again.

  “May I take your coat?” he asked, moving closer to her.

  Wanting to touch her, yes. But wanting to comfort her, too.

  She looked down at what she was wearing and shook her head, clearly having forgotten that she’d left her coat on.

  “Oh. Thank you.” She sucked in a breath as he stepped behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders for a moment. “I think I got a chill while we were out.”

  “Or maybe it’s the combination of dealing with the threats, the police and the work crisis that seems to have snowballed from having our photo taken today.” He took hold of the soft wool and cashmere cloak and helped her slide it from her arms.

  The movement shifted her dark waves of hair and stirred her citrusy scent. He breathed it in, everything about her affecting him. As much as he wanted to turn her toward him and kiss her, he realized he wanted to ease her worries even more. So after hanging the coat on a wooden peg just inside the mudroom off the foyer, he returned to her side, resting his hand lightly on her spine to steer her toward the living room.

  “You’re probably right. The police station visit would have been daunting enough without the drama afterward.” She shivered and hugged her arms tighter around herself.

  Miles led her to the sofa, moving aside a throw pillow to give her the comfortable corner seat. Then he pulled a plush blanket off the sofa back and draped it around her before finding the fireplace remote and switching on the flames. The blinds in the front room were already drawn, but he pulled the heavy curtains over them, too.

  Then he took a seat on the wide ottoman, shoving aside a tray full of design books and coasters to make more room.

  “May I take these off for you?” He gestured toward the high leather boots she was still wearing.

  Her lips lifted on one side. “Really?” A sparkle returned to her green eyes, a flare of interest or anticipation. At least, he hoped that’s what it was. “If you don’t mind.”

  “I want to make you comfortable. And I don’t want you to regret sending away your friends tonight.” He lowered the zipper on the first boot, reminding himself he was only doing this to help her relax. Not to seduce her.

  Although skimming his hand lightly over the back of her calf as he removed the boot was doing a hell of a job of seducing him.

  “I won’t.” Her gaze locked on his hands where he touched her. “I’ve been anxious to talk to you all day.”

  The reminder that this wasn’t a real date came just in time as Miles eased off the second boot. Because he’d been tempted to stroke back up her leg to her knee.

  And linger there.

  Even now, the hem of her skirt just above her knee was calling to him. But first, they needed to address the topic he’d avoided for fourteen years.

  Damn it.

  With an effort, he set aside her footwear and released her leg. Then he took the seat next to her on the couch.

  “Okay.” He braced himself, remembering that his friends hadn’t been any help today. It was time to break the silence. “Let’s talk.”

  “I have a question I’ve been wanting to ask you.” Reaching beneath the blanket, Chiara shifted to gain access to a pocket on the front of her houndstooth skirt. She withdrew a piece of paper and smoothed it out to show him a grainy photo. “Do you know who this is, Miles?”

  He glanced down at the photo, and passion faded as suspicion iced everything he’d been feeling. Apparently Chiara wasn’t stopping her quest for answers about Zach. Because the face staring back at Miles from the image was someone he and Zach had both known well. And he couldn’t begin to guess why Chiara wanted to know about her.

  Nine

  Chiara didn’t miss the flare of recognition in Miles’s eyes as he looked at the yearbook photo.

  “You’re pointing at this woman in the background?” he asked, stabbing the paper with his index finger.

  “The one with the side part and the navy blue skirt,” she clarified. “She doesn’t look like a student.”

  “She wasn’t. That’s Miss Allen, one of the student teachers at Dowdon.” He met her gaze as he smiled. “Lana Allen. We were all a little in love with her.”

  “A teacher?” Shock rippled through her, followed by cold, hard dread. “Are you sure? She’s not in the yearbook anywhere else. How old do you think she was?”

  Miles must have read some of her dismay, because his expression went wary. He tensed beside her on the sofa.

  “There was major backlash about her being at our school since she was just nineteen herself. She didn’t stay the full year at Dowdon after one of the administrators complained she was a distraction. She worked with Alonzo Salazar briefly during the fall semester and then she was gone—” His jaw flexed as if mulling over how much to say. “Before Christmas break. Why?”

  Her stomach knotted at the implications of what this new revelation meant. She hoped it wasn’t a mistake to confide in him. But if one of them didn’t take the leap and start sharing information, they’d never figure out who was harassing her or what it had to do with Zach.

  Taking a deep breath, she sat up straighter and told him. “I saw Zach kissing her. As in a real, no-holds-barred, passionate kiss.”

  Miles shook his head then gripped his temples between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing. “Impossible. It must have been someone else.”

  “No.” She was certain. How many times had she relived that moment in her mind over the years? “Miles, I had the biggest crush on him. I followed him around like the lovesick teenager I was, just hoping for the chance to talk to him alone. I never would have mistaken him for someone else.”

  “Then you’re confused about her,” he insisted. “It was a long time ago, Chiara, how can you be sure—”

  “I picked her face out of the background crowd in this photo just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “The memory has been burned into my brain for fourteen years, because it broke my heart to see that Zach already had a girlfriend.”

  “She couldn’t have been his girlfriend—”

  “His romantic interest, then,” she amended, staring into the flames flickering in the fireplace as she tucked her feet beneath her and pulled the plush throw blanket tighter around her legs. “Or hers, I guess, since she was a legal adult by then and he was still technically a kid.” The woman had no business touching a student, damn it. The idea made her ill.

  “Zach was older than us—seventeen when he died. But obviously that doesn’t excuse her. If anything, the relationship gives a probable cause for Zach’s unhappiness before he died.” His scowl deepened.

  A fresh wave of regret wre
nched her insides at the thought of Zach hurting that much. “I saw them together at the art show where Zach and I were both exhibiting work. I couldn’t find him anywhere, so I finally went outside looking for them, and they were hidden in one of the gardens, arms wound around each other—”

  She broke off, the memory still stinging. Not because of the romantic heartbreak—she’d gotten over that in time. But she’d left the art show after that, turning her back on Zach when he’d called after her. Little did she know she’d never see him again. Remembering that part still filled her with guilt.

  Miles studied her face, seeming content to wait for her to finish, even as he saw too much. When she didn’t speak, he reached between them to thread his fingers through hers. The warmth of his touch—the kindness of it—stole her breath. He’d been an anchor for her on a hard day, and she didn’t have a chance of refusing the steadiness he offered.

  “Okay. Assuming you’re correct, why would Zach tell us he was gay if he wasn’t?”

  “He might have been confused. Fourteen years ago there wasn’t as much discussion about sexuality, so he could have misidentified himself.” Although he’d always seemed so sure of himself in other ways... She remembered how mature Zach had been. “Or maybe he thought he was protecting her—misdirecting people so no one suspected their relationship.”

  Miles seemed to consider this for a moment.

  “But he told us over the summer,” Miles argued. “We had a group video call before the semester even started, and he told us then.”

  “Zach and I were both at school all summer,” she reminded him. “For our art program. Lana Allen could have been around Dowdon during the summer months, too.”

  Miles swore softly under his breath, and she wondered if that meant he was conceding her point. He dragged a hand over his face and exhaled as he turned to look her in the eye. His thigh grazed her knee where her legs were folded beneath her, the contact sizzling its way up her hip.

  “This is huge.” He squeezed her palm, his thumb rubbing lightly over the back of her hand. “It changes everything.”