Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Gideon
The airplane was about to touch down in Bozeman. My fingers gripped the armrests, my knuckles white.
“Does flying bother you?” Autumn asked. She’d been scanning through movies, not settling on one the whole time. When we’d first loaded the plane, she’d been nothing but a gawking tourist. It only took me two seconds to realize she’d never sat outside of economy on a plane.
The Baileys prided themselves on their humility. They could afford first class. They could afford a private fucking jet. But they were the type of “regular folks” who flew economy.
Autumn had mentioned a private jet co-op.
Fuck the Bailey brothers.
I could’ve arranged a private jet, but then I might have to explain why I was traveling that way. I might run across flight attendants or pilots I’d traveled with for work before. Talk would get around. The board didn’t need to worry I’d gotten married and would run off permanently. Lots of people were lined up and waiting for my job. I was determined to keep my family property and my job. I could get lost in commercial airlines easier.
“No, I’m not bothered by flying,” I answered. “I don’t like going home.”
“Oh.”
Too many confessions spilled out of my mouth when it came to her. Like the cooking. I’d seen the sympathy in her eyes. Worse, the understanding. She didn’t know me as just some poor kid made good. She’d have heard about my mom. About the way Dad had turned himself over to whatever bottle he could afford. Did she know what school had been like for me? How guys like her brothers had seen right through me? That I’d gone from being a god in Silver to being a nothing in Bourbon Canyon?
I wasn’t losing Mom’s family land on top of it.
This legacy is yours, Gideon. Four generations to build it, and you’re the fifth. Don’t let your dad make you the last. My grandfather’s words after the funeral were so damn clear.
The plane touched down. Less than six months had gone by and I was back.
Autumn opened her mouth like she was going to say something, then shut it.
“Go ahead,” I said, dreading the inevitable inquiry about my childhood.
“Why didn’t you tell Taya we were married?”
I’d always thought the idea of women fighting over a man pedestrian, but the baser part of me liked her jealousy.
“I didn’t think you’d want word getting to your family before you told them.” Taya would’ve lashed out, tattling on me to the board. She would have spilled the fact to the rest of the C-suite, and she might’ve tipped off the local news stations or social media at the least.
I’d been a spectacle after Mom had died. People had stared. Then Dad had drunk. People still stared. And when I’d driven through Bourbon Canyon to meet with the Baileys at Copper Summit, everyone had stared. Only that time it had been because no one knew me. I didn’t know which one was better.
“Yeah, I guess that’s best. My family should hear it from us.” She checked her phone.
She had told me that her friends were hounding her, but I could see the litany of messages.
One stood out. A message from someone named Mark.
“Your friends are worried.” And who was fucking Mark?
“I told them I was getting a different flight, so they think I’m pissed.”
“What are you going to tell them?” I didn’t get the impression she was as close to her friends as her siblings. She got aloof when they were brought up or when she looked at her phone.
“Nothing.” She tucked the phone into her carry-on tote. “Like you said, we have to tell our families first.”
They’d really hurt her feelings last night when they’d left her outside the club. She’d never tell. I didn’t know how I knew, but Autumn had standards and pity to the people who fell below them.
The realization was startling. I was the same.
But she hadn’t mentioned this Mark guy. “And Mark? ”
The growing pink in her cheeks covered her freckles. “He’s, um... sort of my version of a Taya.”
I did not like the sound of this. “You work with him?” She was going back to work on Tuesday. Today was Sunday. Could she sit out of work for the month?
“We went out a couple of times. Nothing serious.” She gave me a sidelong look. “He doesn’t have keys to my house.”
Still not good enough. “Yet he’s still texting you?”
“He’s my boss.”
“Conflict of interest, isn’t it?” How could I get him fired?
“The town’s too small not to have workarounds. Vegas is huge though,” she said innocently.
My lips twitched. She was like a stealthy prizefighter, getting hits in left and right when I wasn’t prepared. “Remember our deal.”
“One month.”
It was time for us to deplane. I retrieved our luggage. I’d buy anything else I needed. I doubted many suits would be necessary in Bourbon Canyon, so I’d only packed jeans and sweaters.
As we walked through the airport, I tried hard not to admire the architecture. Wooden beams swooped overhead and large windows let in the majesty of the surrounding mountains. Autumn was looking around like she might see someone she knew. I wasn’t worried. I hadn’t lived in the area since I turned eighteen. I was forty-four.
“My car is in long-term parking,” she said.
“Did your friends carpool with you?”
She shook her head, looking straight ahead as we wheeled our suitcases toward the exit. “No. I guess a part of me knew that their reliability only went so far. They joke I’m the mom of the group.” I caught her smirk. “I thought any one of them could’ve ended up married in Vegas.”
I bristled under the stereotype. I made it possible for people to go crazy in Las Vegas, whether it was impulsively marrying, trying expensive clubs, or indulging in luxury. I was accustomed to being a nonparticipant.
I followed Autumn outside. Every location had its own beauty, and I’d been able to travel a fair amount during my years working in the world of hospitality. This was the second time I’d been in Montana since I’d left for college, and the same sense of rightness hit me. No matter where I went, the view, the atmosphere, the weather would never feel as right as Montana.
Feelings were deceptive. I wouldn’t have a career in Las Vegas entertainment if they weren’t.
The temperatures were nice for Montana in October, but the cool hint of a breeze brushed my face, reminding me I was no longer in Nevada.
Autumn dug her keys out and unlocked a small orange hybrid SUV. I reached the liftgate first and opened it to put her luggage in. Then I tossed my bag in the back and held my hand out.
She glanced at my palm, her eyes wide, then lifted her gaze to my face.
“The keys,” I prompted.
“Oh.” Those pretty pink lips of hers turned down. She tugged on the strap of the purse that had been her constant since we’d met. “Why?”
“We’re married. You’re not chauffeuring me around.” I didn’t want to be a wide-eyed spectator driving into my hometown for the second time this year. Bourbon Canyon had changed, but so much was still the same. More eclectic shops had opened, and seeing them had only pissed me off.
I was sure the Baileys and their damn distillery had made increased commerce possible. Copper Summit offered jobs, drove revenue, and encouraged tourism. The Baileys had contributed to the place where they’d been born and raised. I’d made my gains in a city that didn’t need my efforts. When I was done with school, there’d been nothing for me but my grandfather’s warning about Percival and working for a dad who didn’t listen and didn’t care what I had to say. The Baileys had been able to build a bigger empire than what they were born with, and now they wanted what should be mine.
She finally dropped her keys into my hand.
I gave her a nod like she was an assistant who’d just completed a task, but I went to the passenger door and opened it.
She peeked around the back of the SUV. “You’re being, like, weirdly formal.”
“What do you mean?”
“Loading my bag. Driving. Opening doors. I feel like I’m bringing a prom date home, and he’s nervous about making a good impression on my dad.”
Goddamn, that hit too close to home. “I’m bringing you home to my father first.”
Her coppery brows lifted. “You are?”
“We can stop at your house first. That way, I won’t act like such a stranger there after people know.” I’d always be a stranger. I’d been one when I’d grown up. Now that I was married into the local elite, I’d be more of an outsider than ever.
Autumn
Seeing Gideon in my house was a mindfuck. Like a lucid dream. A drop-dead-sexy man was roaming the tiny walls of my home. He took up any extra space and made it feel smaller and plainer than ever.
When I’d bought this place, I’d thought it’d be a starter home. I’d meet someone, maybe we’d live there until we built a bigger home. I wasn’t keen about building on my property not far from Copper Summit. I should be relieved Gideon wouldn’t press me about it like another ex had. Ten years after that guy, I was still living here. Alone.
Except for my cat.
I’d seen Gideon’s place, spent the night on a bed that was like a custom-made cloud, and seen a shower that shouldn’t be possible. I hadn’t used it.
I needed a shower and real sleep.
Being tired didn’t mask the observation that the penthouse wasn’t made for a family. No one who had kids wanted white anything in their home, professional cleaners or not.
Gideon looked around my living room, his gaze scrutinizing the little fireplace at the far wall.
“I have a pile of firewood behind the garage, just in case.”
He cocked a brow.
“If power goes out,” I finished lamely. This stilted conversation was a lot like the drive from Bozeman. I’d say something to fill the heavy silence or because I thought he’d want to know some things about me. We had a short window, but we had to be a real couple. He’d only give me monosyllabic answers or that damn brow lift—which was fucking sexy. But then, everything about this man was desirable.
Especially his cooking. I could’ve orgasmed over those eggs.
He shoved a hand in his pocket. When his back was to me, I ogled his ass. This material had seen very little of the great outdoors and definitely hadn’t touched a horse or cow. I couldn’t picture this Gideon filling feed buckets for chickens. I couldn’t see him waking up early to do chores or even to go for a relaxing ride that didn’t include rounding up cattle.
A slight sadness settled over me. I couldn’t picture a cowboy hat on his head, dust on his shirt, or the relaxed walk of a guy who loved doing what he loved because he fucking loved ranching. That type of guy was who I’d thought I’d marry, one who wouldn’t put an expiration date on my marriage.
I’d always imagined I’d end up with someone like the guys I’d grown up with. Mark was outside of that box, but he was nothing like Gideon. My husband was older than me, and he’d been raised doing the same, but he’d deliberately left it all behind.
Yet he wanted to keep the ranch. That had to mean something, right? Weren’t kids more to him than having someone to pass his legacy on to? “We never talked about the specifics of the kids.”
“We did, and I said when you’re ready.” He disappeared into the kitchen.
I took a step to follow, then let my temper take over. I wasn’t some landlord while he looked over the place. “I asked you a question. It’s rude to walk out.”
One heartbeat. A second, louder heartbeat. He appeared around the corner, his expression neutral. I couldn’t interpret the glint in his eye. “You didn’t ask a question. You made a statement.”
I had to think for a moment. Dang. He was right. “And you’re avoiding the discussion.”
His eyes barely narrowed, but I caught the discomfort. “I never planned to have kids.”
He’d said that, yet he’d agreed to the deal. “You’re fighting for Percival, but what happens to it after you’re gone?”
His pensive expression amplified. “I never planned to have kids in the immediate future. Biologically, it can happen for decades yet.”
Didn’t that sound like a dream come true? But he’d cracked the door open to having kids. “If I do get pregnant, how are we going to raise it?”
“It?”
“Him. Her. Himmer?”
“Not very progressive of you, putting the masculine first.”
Was he teasing? I couldn’t tell, but his lips were pursed like he might shatter if he accidentally smiled. “Herim? Maybe we should come up with a name that could go either way. Sawyer.”
“I had a dog named Sawyer.”
“I like dogs. Sawyer it is.”
A blinding flash of a smile struck me mute. I blinked. It was gone in a millisecond, and he shook his head. “You’re unexpected, firecracker.”
“Thank you. ”
He was about to take a step when a “mew” sounded and my tortie, Sprinkles, twined around his legs. She had an orange nose and her mostly black coat was flecked with orange and white. A furrow formed across Gideon’s brow. He stared at the cat, who had decided she wanted her scent all over his legs.
“That’s Sprinkles. She was found in a dumpster at the school.”
That brow lifted, but he continued to stare at the cat. “A dumpster cat.”
“The cat distribution system awarded me with a cat as soon as I thought I was ready to have one. A little before, really. I hadn’t closed on the house yet, so I had to hide her in my apartment.”
He lifted his gaze to me. “You strike me as a rule follower.”
“I break them for good reason.”
“Those are open to interpretation.”
“So are rules.”
Another smile ghosted over his lips. “Indeed.” He turned, careful not to knock into Sprinkles.
That told me a lot about him.
If he’d been an ass to my cat, he’d have been out on his well-defined bottom. He could suck it on the land sale, and I’d do insemination or embrace my cat-lady life. But he continued to be considerate of her as she followed him down the narrow hall made smaller by his wide shoulders.
Once again, he’d evaded the topic of kids.