Chapter Two
T he next morning, Cooper leaned his backside against his old, blue Ford F-100 pickup truck outside the Shelby Montana Crossroads Correctional Center, waiting. He’d gotten here early but the nine a.m. scheduled release time had come and gone twenty minutes ago and there was still no sign of his father.
Behind the high, stark stone walls to his left, he could hear the hum of voices coming from where he remembered once seeing the exercise yard. There was little to no equipment in that yard now. Just grass, a few bleacher seats, a walking path and incarcerated men with nowhere to go. Cooper had often thought of him on that yard amongst those men—many of them violent—a place he didn’t belong or deserve. Five years ago, he’d forbidden Cooper to visit again. Told him to sell that ranch and forget about him.
Of course, he’d done neither.
Pulling his lone emergency cigarette from his shirt pocket, he stuck it between his lips, sucked in the taste for a moment before flicking on the red Bic lighter he also kept handy in case of moments such as this. The flame hissed near the cigarette tip for a long moment before Cooper swore and flicked the flame back out, crumbling the cigarette in his hand. The breeze scattered the dry tobacco across the cracked parking lot.
No good would come of taking up smoking again. It had taken too long to kick the habit five years ago. But if there was ever a moment to cave, this was that moment.
It had been half a decade since Cooper had seen him in person—the last time he’d been in Montana to visit him here. Five years, one month and four days to be exact, though every Sunday night, without fail, they’d spoken on the phone—the old man’s reluctant concession. Today, the nightmare of his incarceration was finally over. Though none of it was ever going to be really over. Not for either of them, he supposed.
Eight years here in this hole and all that time had gone by in a flash. At least for Cooper, who’d ended up on the Four Sixes in Texas for most of that time, as far away from judging eyes in Marietta as this old truck could take him. That, too, was over now. He’d quit that job to come back here and had managed to get hired on at the Hard Eight. Somehow, between the two of them, he and the old man would start again.
The heavy steel doors across the parking lot made a haunting sound when they opened, and Cooper saw a man walking toward him, head down.
He blinked. For a moment, he thought it must be someone else. Some other man’s much older father. But he was the only one waiting.
No, it was him. A diminished version of him, to be sure, much thinner than he was when he’d last seen him and walking with a strange gait. Limping almost. He didn’t look well.
Cooper pushed away from the truck and walked toward him, meeting him halfway across the parking lot. His father stopped short, shocked to see him. “Coop?”
“Dad.” He opened his arms to his father who stepped into them briefly, embracing him.
“What are you doing here? I told you to stay put in Texas.”
He clapped his father on the back before letting him go. “Like that was gonna happen. C’mon. I’m your ride.”
His eyes were still cornflower blue, but his skin had a gray cast to it that was concerning. His hair had turned salt-and-pepper gray. He reminded Cooper of a broken fence post, not the strong, healthy man who’d been confined to this place eight years ago.
“I could’ve taken the bus into town. You didn’t have to come.”
“Like hell you would.” Cooper opened the door for him with a rusty squeak. “And we’re not going to Shelby.” Which was the closest town to the prison.
Raymond Lane’s hand shook as he opened the bottle of water they’d given him on the way out, took a sip and turned to Cooper. “Where are you taking me?”
“Home. To Marietta.”
The old man frowned. “We’ve got no home in Marietta.”
“Yeah, we do. Your home.”
“My—” he began, his voice shocked, “but... I told you to sell the place.”
“Yeah? Well, I didn’t. So, get over it.”
Four hours later, his father’s first look in almost a decade at the land that had raised him brought actual tears to his eyes. Tears he tried to hide from Cooper but failed. He’d barely spoken the whole trip back and Cooper had let him be. Today was a lot for him, Cooper guessed, and he fell asleep after the first hour of the drive. It was, perhaps, the first time in a very long time that his father could actually relax. Let go. But before that, Ray had watched the Montana countryside slide by, drinking in every tree and river and vista along the way.
Cooper had moved back here from Texas a little over a month ago to get the place ready for his homecoming. All the painting and cleaning, now—with that look on his father’s face as they pulled up to the house—felt worth it.
“But you were in Texas,” his father said, climbing out of the truck.
“I was... I had a caretaker living here until last month, taking care of the place. But I paid what was left on the mortgage. I paid the taxes. It’s all up to date. It’s all yours.”
His father’s gaze traveled across the old ranch house with its board and batten front and bricks that lined the rest. Except for the huge spruce trees anchoring the house, the landscaping, what there had been of it, had long since died. Patchy grass still stubbled the yard, but it was mostly weeds. Beyond, lay the fenced pastures that had once supported a healthy herd of black Angus. Those, too, were gone now.
Ray Lane turned back to him, relief mixed with disbelief contorting his expression. “Why didn’t you sell this place? I never wanted it to be a burden on you.”
“No burden. I kept it so you’d have a place to come home to. When you got out. I knew if I told you, you’d just argue with me. So, I didn’t.” He couldn’t read his father’s face anymore, so he wasn’t sure how he was taking it. “If you don’t want to be here, if it’s got too many memories, I get it. But let’s not decide that now. I got a job,” he told his father. “Construction. Maybe working with the horses. You don’t have to worry about anything. You just need to rest and get your feet back under you.”
His hand shook as he held onto a dining room chair. “I never thought I’d see this place again. I never thought I’d see you again, either.”
Cooper frowned. “No matter what, Dad, I got you. I’ll always have you.”
Then his father, who was not a man given to showing emotion, hugged him. Hard. And he didn’t let go for a full minute. “I never thought this day would come.”
Cooper fought back his own emotions. “Hey. What do you say we go inside?”
“Yeah.”
Inside, Ray looked around in wonder as if seeing the place for the first time. There was a welcome home banner Cooper had hung from the rafter that divided the living room from the kitchen and some late-summer flowers in a vase on the counter.
Touched, Ray turned to him. “You spruced the place up.”
“A little bit.” He’d painted this living room a neutral color, repainted the kitchen area and bought some new furniture and updated all the bedding in his bedroom. There were still family pictures here and there, photos of the three of them before his mother passed, years ago. Ray picked one up and held it for a long minute before setting it back and walking to his old bedroom. He just stood in the doorway, staring.
“I had some of your old clothes cleaned and they’re hung up in the closet. Might be a little big on you until we put some weight back on you,” Cooper told him opening the closet door to show him. “You just need some good food.”
“That was kind of you. All of this, Coop. You didn’t have to.”
“Of course, I did. I’ve missed you, Dad. I’m really glad you’re home. And I’m here to help make this whole thing easier.”
His father said, “You really think this place, this town will let go of my past? Let me live here in peace?”
“You’ve done your time. And once we clear your name—”
“Let that go, son. You’ve got to let that go. It’s never going to happen now.”
He’d heard this refrain over and over again from his father, and it still sat like a mystery between them. Though he’d always claimed he was innocent of the charges that put him in prison for the last eight years, he’d done little to help himself during his trial, refusing to testify in his own defense. That had sealed the deal against him. Cooper had never questioned that his father was innocent. It wasn’t in his nature to break the law. No matter what the incentive. He knew that as well as he knew himself. “I got rid of the investigator I hired before. I’ve got someone new.”
His father looked him squarely in the eye. “Don’t.”
Frustration burned in Cooper’s chest. “This is for both of us. For you and for me.” If he wouldn’t listen to reason for his own sake, maybe a personal appeal would do the trick. “In a couple of months—”
“In a couple of months,” Ray interrupted, “I may not be here.”
Cooper blinked and turned back to him. “What’d you say?”
Ray stood and walked to the window to stare out at the pasture. “I didn’t mean to blurt it out that way, but I guess I’ve lost some finesse behind bars. I’m dying, Cooper. It’s cancer. It’s bad.”
The blood drained from Copper’s face and his throat closed up. He reached for the doorknob beside him. Suddenly the way his father looked—his thinning hair, his gauntness—it all made sense.
A rush of emotion flushed his face and threatened to spill out from his eyes. “No!” came his guttural denial. Not after all this. Not after all he’s gone through. “Why... why would you keep something like that from me? H-how long have you known?”
The lines in his face deepened. “Four months. Five. I forget. Could be a year. Time slides by in that place when you’re not looking.”
Suddenly, the room felt small and stifling. “Did they... have you been treated for it?”
“I wasn’t exactly a guest of the Mayo Clinic. They did what they could, but none of it seems to have worked.”
Shock filtered through his system. “Then we’ll get you in to see someone else. An oncologist up in Bozeman. Or... or here in Marietta.”
Ray lowered himself onto the chair near the living room window. “No.”
“What do you mean, no? We’re gonna fight this.”
“I did that. I’m done now.”
“No, you’re not,” Cooper insisted sitting on the coffee table opposite him. “You’re not. You’re still young. You’re only fifty-eight. You’ve got a whole life still ahead of you. And you still have this place. We’re going to clear your name. Start over. We’re close. I can feel it.”
“I said no .”
“What’s that even mean? No. How can you just give up?” He realized he was shouting now.
“You still don’t listen to me. Still the same stubborn kid.”
Cooper shook his head, confused. He was hardly a kid anymore and he’d done nothing but listen to his father for years now. But that didn’t mean Cooper had to accept what he was saying now. He had just survived eight years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit and, understandably, that had taken its toll. But this... no. He couldn’t accept it.
“You really believe,” his father said, “I can start over here? Have any kind of life in this town? Where everyone thinks I’m... a cattle thief? What future do I have? What’s the point of it all?”
“You’re not a thief.”
“Your opinion doesn’t matter to any of them. And it will only keep ruining you in the process. You didn’t learn that well enough the first time?”
Yes, he’d left town. Got a fresh start. But time had a way of making people forget. Maybe. “I got hired out at the Hard Eight ranch,” he said, as if that proved something.
Curiously, his father’s already pale face got paler still.
“Dad? You okay?” Cooper asked, concerned.
“Why there?”
He shrugged. “They had an opening. Suited me.”
“That all?”
He couldn’t read the look on his father’s expression. “Yeah. That’s all. You must remember them. Will and Shay, the Hardesty twins were classmates of mine. Their younger brother, Liam, is running the show over there now. Since their father’s death.”
That turned his head. “Tom’s dead?”
“You knew him, right?”
Ray suddenly looked unwell.
“Hey. You must be hungry. Let me make you something.” His father said not a word as Cooper put together grilled cheese sandwiches and a small salad for the two of them.
As he grilled them on the stove, he watched his father stare out the window at their now fallow land. Cooper had allowed himself expectations about today—a happy reunion, relief that part of his father’s life was over, and hope for the future. But gone was the robust, engaged man—father—who’d left this place eight years ago. In his place, this shadow of his father instead. What had happened all those years ago was like a bomb had gone off in their life, scattering pieces of their history and their futures like so much shrapnel. Putting those pieces back together into any recognizable semblance of what once was seemed now likely impossible.
They ate at the small kitchen table, the same one where they’d always eaten after his mother’s death when Cooper was only five. Just the two of them. The dynamic duo. That was what his father had always called them. The table was French pine, now sporting the divots, old remnants of crayons, Magic Markers, and scars of his childhood. Here, his father had taught him to read, and write, how to build models of space monsters and how to balance a budget. Right here, he’d learned what hard work could earn him. And how much his father meant to him.
But the light that had once been in his dad’s eyes seemed nearly extinguished. Cooper needed to find a way to ignite it again.
Despite that, his father ate everything. A good sign. At least Cooper could feed him. The cake he’d bought him seemed antithetical at this point, but he brought it out anyway. He’d had the cake decorated with a nail file as a joke and a celebration.
Ray smiled, seeing it. “Now he gives it to me. Where was that file when I needed it?”
“If I thought you would’ve taken it, I’d have definitely smuggled one in,” he joked. They shared a heaping slice of chocolate cake and sipped from glasses of milk, remembering other celebrations at this table.
“You staying out at the Hard Eight?” Ray asked finally.
“They offered. But I thought I’d hang here with you instead.”
“You don’t have to take care of me, you know. I can manage.” He took another bite of cake. “But if you want... I’m good with you here.” He hedged for a minute before asking, “So, the family is still on that ranch? The rest of them, I mean?”
“Yeah. Liam, Shay, Cami. Even Will has come home from the NFL. But he and his girlfriend bought a place outside of town. They’re getting married on the ranch over the holidays this year, I hear. They’re actually doing weddings at the Hard Eight now. It’s become a regular—what do they call it? A venue. And of course, Mrs. Hardesty’s still there, too. Sarah.”
Ray’s eyes flicked to Cooper’s for a moment, but he immediately snuffed his reaction.
Interesting.
“Hardesty—senior—Sarah’s husband, died almost three years ago now. Heart attack. Did you know him?”
“Hardly. Is she okay? Sarah, I mean?”
The mention of Mrs. Hardesty was the first spark of interest he’d shown in anything all day.
“I think so, mostly. They’re turning their cattle operation into a guest ranch. I guess they’ve been struggling some since her husband died. They hired me to work construction, but looks like I’ll be working with the horses, too. So, I’ll be bringing in money. You can just rest and get into treatment. But we can talk about that later.”
“Not doing treatment,” he repeated, getting up from the table.
“Dad—”
“I’m tired. I’m gonna lie down now.”
There was no point arguing with him now. “Okay. You do that. I’m going to drive into town and pick up a few things. I’ll be back.”
*
Shay finished up her work doing the weekly books at the best little bakery in town, The Copper Mountain Gingerbread and Dessert Company , packed up her things, and decided to get a late lunch at the Main Street Café.
“Thanks a million, Shay,” Rachel Vaugh, the bakery’s owner, said as Shay left the shop’s office. “I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You say that every time,” she said, giving the other woman a hug. “It’s just numbers, Rachel. But, hey, I’m glad to be useful.”
“Just numbers? Might as well be hieroglyphics,” she quipped, tying back her thick, dark hair. “You know how they told you in school that algebra and calculus would come in handy some day? Well, I didn’t believe them. And my books prove my point. That is until I hired you.
“But,” she mused, looking around the spotless shop filled with gorgeous cupcakes, gingerbread, and cakes, “give me a good recipe and I’m gold. I can multiply fractions in a mixing bowl like nobody’s business.” She pulled a ribbon-tied box from behind the counter, no doubt filled with her beautiful goodies for Shay. “Take them. Ah-ah! Don’t say no. I know the rest of the crew out at the Hard Eight will eat them, even if you don’t.”
“Oh, I’ll eat them, too,” Shay retorted, laughing and accepting the gift. “That’s the problem.”
“That is not a problem. Not enjoying the sweet things in life, now that’s a problem. These cupcakes? Nah. They’re just gateway sweets—sweets by way of friendship.”
She hugged Rachel again. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. See you next month? Oh, unless that wedding gets in the way—I know Daniel Creighton and his fiancée are tying the knot out there. These cupcakes are practice for the big event. They’re doing a cupcake-cake.”
“ Oooh! Well, they’re going to love them. So, if I need to come a day or two early next month, that’s okay, right?”
“Of course. Or after if need be. See you then?”
Shay waved goodbye as she headed out the door. She had four local businesses she did books for—a part-time job that paid fairly well and allowed her plenty of time to work as project manager at the ranch as well. She’d been doing freelance accounting for years here in Marietta. Not exactly the Wall Street finance job she’d imagined herself in someday, but it sufficed. And she got to work with people like Rachel, which was a bonus. Once the guest ranch got going though, it would turn things around for her, financially.
The town was busy as usual, the angled parking spots nearly filled as tourists and locals shopped the quaint boutiques and stores on Main Street. It was great to see how well Marietta was doing even in late summer as a destination, which could only mean good things for the plans for the ranch.
Lost in thought for a moment about the future, Shay stopped suddenly at the window of Big Z Hardware, with its signs for the upcoming Marietta rodeo and rodeo paraphernalia. The hair on the back of her neck rose. She couldn’t even explain the sudden chill that ran through her, except for the feeling that she was being watched. In the window’s reflection, she caught sight of a ragged-looking man with long hair sticking out from his black baseball cap, standing at the corner of Fourth and Main, staring in her direction.
She turned abruptly, but just as quickly, he turned the corner with his back to her and disappeared. Surely that was just a coincidence. And she probably only noticed him because he seemed out of place here. The unhoused tended toward warmer climates than Montana. If he was that. Maybe he was an out-of-work cowboy? No, not by the look of his clothes.
At any rate, he couldn’t have been looking at her. She felt silly but spooked at the same time. Shaking it off, she hurried up the street to the Main Street Café, which was nearly empty at almost three o’clock. The lunch rush was over, and the dinner rush was still to come. She took a table near the window and ordered a quick salad from the young waitress working the tables while Flo, the long-time café lead waitress and manager, readied the dining room for dinner.
As Shay sipped her iced tea, she opened the box Rachel had given her. Inside, the most gorgeously decorated cupcakes, each a different realistic-looking flower. They were too pretty to eat, really. But history dictated that they would be eaten and soon.
She looked up as a couple exited the restaurant and accidentally locked eyes with the only other person still in the restaurant.
Ugh. It had to be Cooper Lane.
Seeing him gave her a start and she quickly looked back at her cupcakes, pretending to study the intricately decorated tops. But after a moment, she realized the futility of ignoring him and glanced back his way. He tilted a nod at her and went back to his sandwich.
For a heartbeat, she imagined she could get away with pretending they could just ignore each other. But, sighing deeply as he flicked another look at her again, she reluctantly motioned for him to join her. Following a ridiculous, ten-second mime of invitation and false surprise, he gathered up his plate and sauntered over to her table—looking all hot and... and sure of himself. Shay tried not to notice the way his jeans hugged his muscular legs or how the sleeves of his black tee shirt clung to his impressive biceps.
He set his plate down opposite her and slid into the booth. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Right. Seems silly, seeing how we’re the only two in here to... pretend we—”
“Don’t know each other?”
“Yes. Though,” she continued, “in reality, we hardly do anymore. Know each other, I mean.”
“I guess that’s true. Times change. People change.”
“You’ve certainly changed.” She nearly bit her tongue for saying it.
“Have I?”
“I mean... obviously,” she said, avoiding looking at him directly.
The waitress brought her salad, took a look at Cooper, and stated the obvious. “Oh! You moved!”
“Uh-huh,” they both said in unison.
“Aw. Isn’t that cute?” she exclaimed, twisting her blonde ponytail. “You two know each other.”
They side-eyed each other without explanation.
After a few beats waiting for one, the waitress said, “O-kay. Well, y’all enjoy your lunch.”
Cooper took a large bite of his sandwich and stared at Shay while chewing. God, how was it that men could actually look sexy with a mouthful of food?
“So,” he asked, picking up where they left off, “how exactly do you think I’ve changed?”
Delicately, she picked at her salad, only to realize she wasn’t hungry anymore. “Um, oh, I don’t know. You look different. Older.” Better.
“ You look the same. You look great,” he replied.
Don’t be nice to me. “I-I meant older in a good way,” she amended. “I know the last decade or so hasn’t been an easy one for you.”
He lowered his head to another bite of sandwich. After a minute, he said, “Ryan seems like a great kid. You must be proud of him.”
She warmed to his words. “I am. Very. He’s amazing. Sweet. A horse lover, too. I hear that’s one of your passions as well. Liam... mentioned it in passing.”
His dark, slashing eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Did he?”
She swallowed hard, fishing around in her salad for something to say. “Uh-huh. So... you’re back in Marietta. For, um, how long, you think?”
He stared at the remnants of his sandwich, then laid them down on his plate. “I’m not tied to any timeline in particular.”
“Ah.”
“But I thought,” he began, “I’d manage at least a couple of weeks before you were ready to kick me out of a job.”
She felt her cheeks go hot and she tucked her hair behind her ear. “No, no. I-I’m not trying to—” Yes, you were. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. I’m used to it.” His eyes, green as the moss that grew on a stone, burned into her with something akin to humor, as if he was enjoying her discomfort.
“Ugh. I’m no good at small talk. I spend way too much time around cattle.”
He was grinning at her now. “I guess that makes two of us.” He gestured at the pink bakery box with Rachel’s logo. “I like that bakery. Discovered ’em last week.”
Relieved, she pushed the box toward him. “Me, too. I do some accounting work for them, and Rachel, in turn, tries to fatten me up.” She opened the box full of cupcakes decorated with purple and yellow pansies, Gerbera daisies and delicate pink-petaled roses. “Please, take one.”
His eyes widened. “Oh, no. They’re too pretty to eat. They’re practically works of art.”
“That’s what I thought, too.” But she lifted one out and sliced it in half, handing him one. “There. Problem solved. They’re too good not to eat.”
With a grateful nod, he accepted. He moaned with the first bite. “Mm-mm. Wow.”
“See what I mean?” She took a bite of hers, too. Forget the salad. This encounter called for copious amounts of sugar and carbs.
He moaned with pleasure again and the sound spread through Shay like melted butter. Fascinated by the way his eyes closed with pleasure and how long his dark lashes were, she forced her gaze away from him, ignoring the rushing tingle of awareness his closeness inspired. What in the world was wrong with her?
“Wait,” he said suddenly. “You’re an accountant?”
“Hmm?” She nearly squeaked, pulling her gaze from the way he crumpled the cupcake wrapper in his fist. “Oh, yes. Freelance. For a few businesses around town. Pays the rent.” She gestured at the frosting bit stuck to his lip. “You’ve got a little... on your—”
He licked at it with his tongue, then wiped it off with a napkin, his gaze fixed on her.
With a sinking feeling, she realized that she was... attracted to him. Uh-uh. Nope. That will not do.
“Rent, huh?” he repeated. “But you live at the ranch, right?”
She plucked at the neck of her denim shirt. “Since my father passed. I... my mother wanted us to come. Stay with her. So, we did. We’re still there. Ryan and me. It’s worked well.”
“You never married?” he asked.
“No,” she said with a dismissive laugh. “You?”
He shook his head. “Married to my job, maybe. Yeah. I like what I do.”
Shay had to file that into the what a waste category. Cooper Lane had been the smartest kid in their high school class. Valedictorian, in fact. He’d given a speech at graduation that had inspired everyone, then headed off to a prestigious Ivy League college back East. But all that had changed a year or two into his college career with his father’s arrest.
Now, he was a handsome, charming, loaded-down-with-history cowboy, hiring out for construction jobs and training horses no one wanted. No doubt he’d spent the last near decade trying to reinvent himself.
Just as she had.
Alone.
Outside on the street, Carol Bingley—the town’s inveterate gossip—walked past the window, glancing in and double taking at the sight of Cooper. And her. Her step only hitched for a moment, but long enough, to connect the two of them. Oh, here we go , Shay thought. Give her enough time and she’ll hang Cooper for just returning to the scene of his father’s crime. Shay straightened and narrowed a you-got-something-to-say? look back at her before she hurried past them on the street. No doubt looking for someone to pass this alarming information to. It wouldn’t surprise her if Carol Bingley had been the responsible party for driving Cooper out of town on a rail in the first place.
Searching for a safe place to look, she settled her gaze on Cooper’s hands, strong and tanned, and turning the fork around in his fingers as if he was as nervous about this interaction as she was. He had gentle hands with long fingers and surprisingly clean nails—for a cowboy—and unbidden, she wondered if his palms were calloused or smooth.
Change the subject!
“So, how does it feel to be back in Marietta? Did you miss it?”
“In a way, I did,” he admitted. “The place has changed some, but... some things never change.”
Flo, the older, long-time waitress with the big hair and sweet smile wiped tables nearby and nodded to Shay. “Hi, darlin’! How you doin’ today?”
“Great. Just great.” She forced a smile at the woman who was surreptitiously checking out Cooper.
“That’s not—” Flo began. “Well, I’ll be. Cooper Lane. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”
Nervously, Cooper turned to her. “Hey, Flo.”
Everyone knew Flo. Everyone who grew up here spent copious amounts of time with friends here, sharing sodas and french fries after school. And Flo had always been a big part of that experience. She never judged anyone, not even Shay when she’d gotten pregnant with Ryan. Maybe that’s why she’d been here for so long.
“Welcome back to Marietta. So good to see you again,” Flo told Cooper.
“Thanks, Flo.”
“Here for a while or just passing through?”
He glanced at Shay. “A while. Maybe. We’ll see.”
“That’s good to hear. Enjoy your lunch now you two, you hear?” Not wanting to interrupt, Flo moved on to other tables, leaving them to stare awkwardly at each other for a long moment.
“She’s nice,” Shay murmured.
“Always was.”
“So,” Shay said, searching for something safe to talk about. “Where are you staying? Liam said you didn’t want to bunk at the ranch.”
“Our old place. I kept it going all these years. Had a caretaker on it until recently. It’s a little worse for the wear, but it’s still there.”
“Really?” She studied him for a long minute, gauging how curious she was allowed to be. “I thought—”
“What?”
“I guess I assumed you’d sold it. It has been a long time. Somehow, I didn’t imagine you’d ever come back.”
“Wishful thinking?”
She blushed. “No.” She probably deserved that after their first meeting yesterday. “I just didn’t think you had many good reasons to come back here. But it is, after all, your home.” She nearly winced. That didn’t come out at all how she’d meant to say it.
He narrowed a look at her. “Mine and my father’s.”
She toyed with her salad. His father who had been gone longer than Cooper had. “I know how it feels to want to protect what’s yours. Obviously. I’d do anything to protect my family. And... I’m a single mother. I’ve had a fair share of gossip and innuendo coming my way. I don’t hold what your father did against you personally.”
He set down his fork, his expression bereft of the ease she’d seen only moments earlier. “Kinda feels like you do. Just so you know, he was innocent. I’m innocent. And someday you’ll know that’s all true. But if you don’t want me on the Hard Eight, Shay, just come out and say it. I’ll go right now.”
She blinked at him. “ No. I—” Searching for the words to explain herself, she came up short. “That’s not what I meant. At least, I didn’t mean to—You don’t have to worry. Your job is safe. I’m sorry. Just ignore me, Cooper.”
Slowly, he got to his feet and settled his black Stetson on his head. “That won’t be easy. But I thank you for the cupcake and the company. But I’m about to be late for a meeting.”
“Cooper, I—”
He cut her off. “See you on Monday.”
Deflated, she leaned back in her chair. Now she’d done it. She watched him pay his tab with that cute little waitress at the cash register and leave the café. She’d hurt him. And even her attempts to backtrack had backfired.
But she wasn’t wrong about his father’s reputation. The ranchers in Marietta had naturally taken his father’s crimes of stealing their cattle very personally. He had not only hit their bottom line, but for some ranchers, his thievery had meant ruin. That would not be forgiven easily, even if Cooper personally had nothing to do with them. In this day and age of online reviews and Yelp, a business like the guest ranch could be destroyed by a few bad actors. She had no doubt that word would get out about him working for them, just as they were trying to get their business up and running. Maybe it was unfair, but she would do anything to protect her family. Even from him.
Her hand shook as she tried to finish her salad and finally, she gave up, her inner critic revving up.
On the other hand, that other voice argued, should the Hardestys cave to idle gossip and innuendo or even a cynical review? Cooper wasn’t part of his father’s crime. And to paint him with that same brush made her look no better than those who had harangued him years ago into moving away.
Yes, she was protecting her family, their future success, and the ranch itself. But Cooper Lane was the same person he’d been when she’d known him in high school and to assume he’d do anything to hurt their family just because his father’s reputation followed him was like saying she should somehow be ashamed of having had Ryan without a husband. Cooper didn’t deserve that. And somehow, she’d figure out a way to fix this.
At the cash register, she pulled out her wallet to pay for her food, but the cute waitress just smiled.
“Oh no, didn’t he tell you?” she said. “That gentleman sitting with you? He paid your bill, too.”
Shay sighed, turning to stare out the Plate glass window at the front of the café. That was either the nicest thing anyone had done for her lately, or a power move to put her in her place. Which one was perfectly unclear. One thing, however, was plain. She was going to have to deal with Cooper Lane one way or another.
How did the old adage go? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer? Which one he was remained to be seen.