Chapter Three
T rey Reyes, a local private investigator who had worked for Marietta’s Canaday Law Firm for years since leaving the military, had a well-earned reputation for getting to the bottom of cases where others had failed. Cooper had spoken with him on the phone several times from Texas, but today was their first in-person meeting.
If central casting had submitted Reyes for the job, they couldn’t have cast anyone who looked the part less. The muscle-bound thug Cooper had somehow imagined was, in reality, a handsome, six-foot-something tall guy with intelligent, dark eyes, an easy smile and an offhanded manner that put him at ease. He wasn’t the first private investigator Cooper had hired to investigate what had happened to his father, but he hoped Trey would be the one to finally bring some closure to the case.
“You up for a walk down by the Marietta River?” Trey asked as they met on the corner of Main and Court Street. “There’s a nice walking path and it’s quiet there. We’re not likely to run into anyone at this time of day.”
“Sure.” He could both walk off that cupcake and the conflicting feelings he was having about Shay Hardesty.
He should be used to people throwing their attitudes at him by now, but the subtle digs from Shay about his father had cut him. Then again, for all the protestations about his father’s innocence, he’d not been able to do a thing to clear his name in all these years. Even though Cooper knew his father could never have done what they’d accused him of. And, personally, he knew that not a dime of the money his father was alleged to have made in that scheme ever found its way to their lives.
Cooper and Trey walked down a path by the courthouse, beneath the oak and pine trees that lined the walkway talking about the case as they reached the river and the wide path that followed the meandering current. The late August air smelled sweet, and the first hints of autumn were in the air.
“My wife, Holly, and I walk down here all the time with our dog, Digger,” Trey said. “Clears the mind. Puts everything in perspective, I think.”
Cooper could use a little perspective right now. “You married long?”
“A few years now,” Trey said, looking pretty damn happy about it. “You?”
He shook his head. “Nah. Not in the cards for me.”
Trey chuckled. “I used to think that, too. But glad now I changed my mind. My wife, Holly, wasn’t an easy catch, that’s for sure, and to this day, she challenges me in all the best ways. But I’d be lost without her.”
Cooper looked sideways at him, surprised Trey would share something so personal. Then again, why not? He seemed to have found his path in life with this detective business and the rest of his life had apparently fallen into place as well. He had the kind of confidence Cooper was looking for in an investigator after going through a series of detectives who wouldn’t or couldn’t get behind his father’s innocence.
Cooper’s thoughts strayed to Shay and their conversation of a few minutes ago, only confirming his feelings on the subject of settling down with a woman. She was an all-too-familiar scenario, with some preconceived notion of him. At the same time, he saw that his perception of himself was blurred by all his shifts in direction. He was most definitely not where he imagined he’d be at thirty-one—alone, still fighting for respect, and still drifting from one job to the next. Or here, making one last-ditch effort to uncover the truth about his father’s case.
“So, let’s talk about coming steps in your case. As you instructed,” Trey began, “I’ve done some digging into the bank transactions that took place on your father’s business accounts, beginning in 2012 and ending in 2014. You’re right. The money—a significant amount in total—was moved through his business account in modest deposits and quickly shuttled to some offshore account in the Caymans. Two point five million dollars to be precise.”
“That account was opened by his business partner. He forged his signature—very well, I might add—and my father wasn’t even aware of that account until the whole thing blew up in his face. My father never saw a penny of it. Never took a penny.”
“Right. So, it’s been nine, ten, eleven years since these transactions took place. Even then, the cops were unable to learn the final destination of that money. It came and went out of your father’s bank account, just as the police claimed and it landed in a Cayman account in your father’s name, again. From there, it was paid out to some shell corporation, tied to about three or four others, and most likely ultimately laundered through some real estate scheme. But that doesn’t make it a dead end,” Trey said, “I just happen to know a guy.”
Cooper stopped walking. “What kind of guy?”
“The hacker kind. He can find pretty much anything you want as long as it resides in the digital universe. He practically invented the means to trace a digital fingerprint, which is what we need here. If there’s a trail, any trail—and I guarantee you one exists—he can find it.”
For the first time in a very long time, Cooper felt an inkling of hope. “If he can tie that money to my father’s partner, Evan Clulagher, then we can prove my father’s innocence. Maybe vacate his conviction. And if that money was withdrawn after Clulagher’s alleged disappearance and death, and we can tie him to it, then we’ll have some answers. I’m convinced he faked his death.”
“They never found his body in Flathead Lake, correct? Just his boat and his personal items?”
“Right. You would have expected eventually they would have found him. But it was too much of a coincidence, him drowning just then. They found nothing. No body. Just his car and some personal things washed up along the shoreline. I believe he’s alive and living in the Swiss Alps or Brazil, or somewhere no one knows him. And since he’s the one who set my father up, it was the perfect crime, really. And when he disappeared with no wife or kids left behind, everyone just... moved on to my father.”
“I, too, have found no trace of Evan Clulagher’s name attached to accounts there,” Trey said, continuing down the trail, “but he likely used an assumed name. He likely got out of the country that way, too.”
“I’d practically given up the idea of finding him,” Cooper admitted. “My father definitely has. He doesn’t want me doing this. He’s done.”
“Any idea why?”
“If I didn’t know my father so well, know that he is as honest as any man you’ll ever meet... I might think it’s because there were things he didn’t want me to know.”
“About his part in the cattle rustling?”
Cooper shrugged. “He swears he’s innocent. But I guess every man who’s ever gone to prison swears that, right?”
“Some do,” Trey said. “Yet he never caved. Never confessed. Even though that might have shortened his sentence with cooperation.”
“Exactly. He had chances. But that’s where I hit a brick wall. It’s like he was protecting someone. And it wasn’t Clulagher, that’s for sure. But if he’s innocent, who would he be protecting?”
“That’s part of what I mean to find out. Here’s what I know. Cattle rustling isn’t what it used to be. It’s not riding in, cutting a bunch of cattle and riding off into the sunset. Nowadays, there are no brands to alter, the ear tags they use on feeder cattle are often equipped with GPS. Now, tighter books and head counts are kept at all ends because of losses that tend to happen in transferring cattle from one place to another. Even pasture to pasture. Nine, ten years ago, all that scrutiny was just becoming the norm precisely because of the schemes going on. Cattle rustling is a more subtle art form than it once was and rarely involves physically stealing cattle from another man’s ranch. And if that did happen, it happened in transport. But as partners in a cattle shipping-trucking business, Clulagher and your father were both positioned to mess with numbers.”
“My father’s end of the shipping business was feed shipping—grain, alfalfa, hay, etcetera. Not cattle. He had nothing to do with whatever they were doing with the cattle.”
“Still, ask anyone. Rustling cattle isn’t a likely solo operation. Unless it’s a pure Ponzi scheme—i.e. strictly embezzlement or taking money from investors and then reinvesting it without purchasing said cattle—rustling cattle requires a team. There were two other men who went to prison with your father. Both of them cowboys who worked wrangling cattle for Clulagher-Lane Trucking. They knew what the story was. But there was a drawerful of evidence pointing to your father that said he knew, too. It seems pretty clear that those two men weren’t at the top of the food chain, so they didn’t necessarily know your father’s involvement.”
“He told the police it had to be Clulagher’s operation, but with him missing and presumed dead, there was nowhere to look but at him. They even looked at my father for the murder of Clulagher, but they never found enough to take that to trial.”
“Either way, I mean to find out how and why that money got moved. And if his partner is, in fact, alive, where he ended up.”
They stopped at the river’s edge where tall grass—brown now at the end of summer—billowed in the afternoon breeze. Across the way, a hawk circled the river, darting between the branches of the tall trees along the banks. The air was still hot from the day but promised to cool to the sound of the river flowing nearby.
Cooper was glad they’d left town for this talk. Walking near this river reminded him of the reasons he’d loved this, his hometown, once, when his father and he would fish for hours along the banks of the Marietta River or the Yellowstone, setting flies and catching fat rainbow trout. He decided he would take his father out fishing again as soon as he got a free day. Maybe it would remind him that this life that remained was worth fighting for.
He and Trey walked back to town, promised to keep in touch and parted ways. Cooper felt good about the man. Hopefully, he’d be able to solve the mystery that those before him could not. He was probably their last chance. With almost nine years gone now since the day of his father’s arrest, the case had gone stone cold. Soon, possibly none of this would matter anymore. At least to his father.
*
A week passed as Shay pushed forward on the ranch development, meeting with their architect, Joel Lawrence Shaw, finalizing the plans for the luxe guest cottages that would be going up soon. Cooper and Liam disappeared every day together, doing construction on the glamping platforms and bath builds alongside several other specialized contractors for stonework and plumbing.
The plan for the guest ranch had always been to begin modestly and build their clientele and reputation over the next year or two. The many barn weddings they’d already hosted here over the last year had been wildly well received. Soon, they’d have glamping tents for summer, honeymoon cottages, and one luxury cabin for larger parties or families for all the other seasons to offer. With their first clients being old friends of Liam’s, Carolyn and Jess Brody, booking a glamping tent for their honeymoon late in September, it would be a good test of all the aspects of their program. Starting small appealed to her sense of order and wouldn’t overwhelm them right out of the gate.
Every day, after a long, hard day working construction, Liam and Cooper, and sometimes Will, would return to the house, laughing and chatting like old friends, and, with little more than a nod in her direction if they happened to cross paths, Cooper would get in his truck and go home.
As the days passed, she felt worse and worse about the way they’d left things at the café, knowing her words had hurt him, but not knowing how to fix it. Watching his truck barrel down the long road leading away from their ranch, she thought maybe he had no feelings about her at all, and she was just making up problems out of whole cloth. Maybe she always did this—living in her head, rewriting history, blaming herself for opening her mouth when she should have kept it shut. But protecting her family and their future had always come first for her, and she couldn’t—shouldn’t have to—apologize for that.
However, the longer he worked side by side with Liam, seemingly unconcerned with her feelings, the more she realized that she’d been wrong about letting him work here. He was a hard worker, and skilled. Liam raved about the work Cooper was doing, and Ryan had started hanging around them, too, seemingly as taken with him as her brother was.
Two days ago, she’d caught sight of Ryan and Cooper in the quarantine pens, giving treats to the newest horses, with Cooper watching over her son as he made progress with his filly. The rescues were eating well on special diets and starting to show signs of filling out. They’d all been vet checked and a farrier had come by to see to their hooves. The filly’s fetlock wound had gotten attention and was healing well. They’d need at least another week in quarantine before they could be cleared to move with the other horses on the ranch.
As she’d watched, she couldn’t help but notice the easy way Cooper had with her son as well as the way Ryan—her quiet, reticent son—lit up with his attention. Emotion stung her eyes as she’d turned away from the window. She couldn’t tell if what she was feeling was fear or happiness.
For so long, there had been so few men in Ryan’s life to look up to. Only Liam, who loved him like his own. But even he had been so caught up trying to keep the ranch afloat after their father had died, he’d had little time to spend with his nephew. She had dated a few men over the years, but rarely brought them home to meet her son for fear of setting him up for disappointment. With her ex-pro football player brother Will’s arrival last summer, Ryan had started coming out of his shell. Will had spent a lot of time with him throwing footballs and volunteering as an assistant coach on his school team.
Now, here was Cooper.
Maybe it was Ryan’s age or teenage hormones, or maybe it was the fact that all of them felt so hopeful for the first time in years. But whatever had happened, her son was doing well, and she couldn’t argue with that at all.
All of that had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she found herself secretly ogling Cooper Lane, all the time. Something she never did. In fact, it had been so long since she’d paid any attention to a man—any man—she felt herself blush realizing it.
That he was handsome came as no shock. He’d always been good-looking, she supposed. Even though, as a kid, he’d had a bit of a nerdy reputation, because he was smarter than everyone—an underappreciated fact when you’re a kid. She couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened to Cooper’s life had it not imploded because of his father’s misdeeds? Where would he be today? Surely not working for the Hard Eight as a cowboy-construction worker.
She had zero regrets about becoming Ryan’s mother fourteen years ago. Zero regrets about not ending up with his biological father. And for the longest time, she didn’t allow herself to wonder what might have become of her otherwise. If she hadn’t, for instance, chosen a careless, rich, summer boy to lose her future with. If she’d chosen, instead, someone like the smartest boy in the class, the one with a future. Someone who might have desperately needed her someday in the near future. Someone who might have stuck around.
Water under the bridge, so to speak. She’d made none of those choices and now that time had passed. The most she could hope for was to call a truce in this self-inflicted war between her and Cooper Lane. She was wasting way too much brain space worrying about it. Once she did that, she could get back to business as usual.
The door to the great room opened and Cami, Shay’s younger sister, breezed in from her long day at Marietta Elementary School. She tossed aside her bags and flopped dramatically down on the couch.
“How is it even possible to be so exhausted when school’s only been in session for two weeks? I spent the first half of the day fighting a software glitch in all of my students’ new Chromebooks. Then answering twenty-thousand versions of the same question about our long-term project this semester. All that was before lunch. Plus, my assistant chose today to have her baby so there was that.” Cami laughed. “I kid. I’m happy for her. But this particular class is a two-man operation. Oh, and did you know that hiccups cannot actually be cured by drinking a full glass of water upside down?”
“Really,” Shay said, grinning.
“Oh, yes. That it will, in fact, simply soak your clothes and cause unwarranted hilarity in your classmates which will, in turn, lead to a random rash of fake hiccupping throughout the class for the rest of the day? But not until three other students got excused to the office for also soaking their clothes. Yeah. That happened, too. Gotta love ’em though.”
Cami sighed, sweeping her long hair into a messy bun. “But I managed to convince at least two thirds of them that multiplying fractions wasn’t the hardest thing ever invented, and I think we crossed the Rubicon there. Just in the nick of time, I might add, before I started to pull out all of my hair.”
Shay giggled into her coffee mug. Having watched Cami teach elementary school for a few years now, Shay understood that teachers were hypothetically expected to be in ten places at once, work eighty hours a week—much of it without any extra pay—smile, and make it all look effortless. But Cami loved her job, as did most teachers Shay had known. The youngest of the four siblings, Cami had always been the mediator, the family fixer, the levelheaded one who let things roll off her instead of holding onto them. When the rest of them were losing it, Cami was always there, holding things together. It was a role she’d assumed willingly, and she was so good at it the rest of them just let her have it. There were times, however, when Shay wished Cami wouldn’t worry so much about everyone around her and take time for herself. Like, find a boyfriend, for instance.
Shay lifted her coffee cup to her lips and glanced out the window at Cooper, who was showing her son how to tie a fancy knot around a fencepost.
“Did I tell you our PTA is doing a silent auction at the week of the autumn festival this year as a fundraiser?” Cami said, perking up.
“A silent auction? How fun!”
“I said the Hard Eight can probably throw in something cool to bid on.”
“And this is why we put you in charge of marketing our new enterprise,” Shay said. “I think we can definitely manage that.”
“I was thinking a guided trail horseback ride— with Will —or a fly-fishing excursion with a guide— Liam —or, if we want to get really extravagant, a campfire s’mores roast and cowboy singalong.”
“Hmm. All we’d need is the singing cowboy.”
“Right. I’ll have to hold auditions. Maybe at the upcoming Marietta rodeo. Surely there are some singing cowboys amongst that bunch.”
“Good luck with that,” Shay said. “You may need to fork over more money than we can afford for one of those guys. By the way, are we all going again this year?”
“For sure. I can’t wait, and I’ll keep my eyes peeled out for the money cowboy-singers.” She laughed at the idea. “But I’m liking this idea more and more.”
“Well, the silent auction sounds great. Especially that the PTA is doing it and not you.”
“Oh,” she said, fiddling with the couch pillow. “Well, I did sign up to help with decorations and setup.”
“Cami—” Overcommitted was her sister’s middle name.
“Hey! Is that Cooper I saw outside with Ryan?” Cami asked, diverting.
Why yes. Yes, it is Cooper.
“Liam said you’re not happy he’s here,” she teased.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Good, because I was just about to question your sanity. Have you looked at Cooper Lane since he’s gotten back?” Cami made googly eyes at her.
Shay laughed. Oh, she’d looked. More often than she wanted to admit. “Well, if you’re so taken, maybe you should ask him out.”
“Me? I do not have time for dating. Besides, I saw him watching you the other day when you weren’t looking—getting into your car and driving to town? Yeah, it’s not me he wants to ask him out. It’s definitely you.”
“That’s ridiculous. He barely makes eye contact with me.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want you to know he’s looking.”
She glanced out the window again, at her son with Cooper. They were laughing at something. “I will admit, having all these guys around has been good for Ryan. And Cooper in particular. Even if I was against it at first. Ryan has been so happy lately.”
“Boys need each other, even if they don’t want to admit it,” Cami said, joining her at the window. “Something happens when boys become men and so many of them think they don’t need each other anymore. But when they put all that lone wolf stuff aside, they really do blossom in each other’s company.”
“That’s a pretty deep insight for a lone wolf teacher,” Shay teased.
Cami blushed. “Okay. But I have a unique view of boys before they get ruined by the world and nine-to-five jobs. Men need friends, too. Even Cooper.”
*
The next day, Shay left town after running a few errands and finishing up an accounting gig with a boutique owner in town. It was nearly dark by the time she’d finished. All of the windows in town were decorated with flag buntings, signs, and banners strung across Main Street advertising the Marietta rodeo the second week of September. The rodeo was a big deal in Marietta, and though they’d often attended, she was secretly glad Ryan wasn’t interested in participating. He was more focused on training horses than riding broncs or bulls. The autumn festival and the Youth Horse Encounter competition that Ryan would be entering would be happening only a few weeks later. Too soon, she worried.
He was behind on the training, and she hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed if Kholá wasn’t quite ready when it came time for the event. Even with Cooper’s guidance, she was afraid Ryan had bitten off more than he could chew, entering this year with both football, school, and the contest. But she wasn’t about to tell him that. She didn’t believe in setting limits about what he could accomplish and often he surprised her. That might have said more about her own boundaries than his.
Yep. It probably did.
She pushed those thoughts aside and cranked up the radio, singing along to Taylor Swift’s “You Belong with Me” as she drove. This stretch of road was empty as usual, so she rolled down her window and belted the lyrics out loud to the Montana countryside, letting the cool evening breeze hit her face and tug at her hair. It wasn’t often she got to let loose, but sometimes, singing in the car was just what she needed. No one could hear out here but the cattle she passed, who eyed her with comical surprise as she drove past them.
Which was when it happened.
A loud bang! sounded at the back of the truck and jerked her wheel hard to the right. Shay practically screamed as she fought the truck to stay on the road, tires squealing and skidding. Nearly a hundred feet later, she managed to pull to a stop.
She turned off the engine and pressed her forehead against the steering wheel for a long minute to gather her wits. Then, she cursed. It was a flat. Pretty sure it was the back right tire, which meant she would have to change it herself, somehow jacking up the heavy pickup. One look at her cell told her she was, naturally, in one of the two dead zones between town and the ranch. No service. No roadside service that she paid dearly for. A good three miles from home here, she was also an equal distance from town.
She sighed deeply as she looked at the rapidly setting sun.
This sucks.
Quickly, she pulled the car manual from the glove box and looked up changing a flat tire . She knew she had a spare, and that it was under the truck, but she had no clue how to detach it from there. Ugh. Where was Liam when she needed him?
She pulled the tire changing kit from where the manual informed her it was, beneath the back seat, then stood staring at the mysterious back end of the truck. Why hadn’t she learned how to do this before? Why hadn’t she at least had Liam explain the rudiments? But more than understanding the situation, getting the thing on would certainly require muscle.
By now, she’d drawn an audience of black Angus cows who had gathered at the fence line to watch her. One of them mooed .
“Oh, you think this is funny, do you? Well,” she said. “I hope this is entertaining, because I have no idea what I’m doing.” She took a bow. “Thank you. Thank you very much. I’ll be here all week.”
The cows just stared, chewing their cud.
“Not helpful,” she muttered, inserting her key inside the little door behind the license plate where there was allegedly a magic place for the rod thingy to go. After fumbling with it for a good two minutes, she managed to insert said rod, crank the spare tire down to the ground and was in the process of figuring out how to get it unhooked entirely when she heard a car pull up on the road beside her.
Scrambling out from under the truck, a hundred awful thoughts ricocheted through her mind before she saw who it actually was.
“Cooper!” The wave of relief that washed over her made her knees suddenly weak. Bracing a hand on the tailgate she tried to look... cool. A fail by any standard. “Hi.”
He leaned out his truck window. “Havin’ some trouble?”
“Oh, no. I’m just entertaining the troops here,” she said, pointing to the cattle who mooed at him and started wandering away. Traitors. “You?”
“Just on my way home. But I think you’re losing your crowd over there.”
“Yeah, they were a bunch of hecklers, to be honest.”
He chuckled and pulled his truck over to the side of the road and parked. After taking a long gander at the right rear flat tire that had nearly shredded into ribbons, he whistled. “Lucky thing you didn’t go into that ditch.”
“Yes. Thank you for pointing that out.”
He smiled, tugged off his Carhartt jacket, and handed it to her. It was still warm from his body heat, and she couldn’t help but get a whiff of him. Some delicious, very male scent that belonged only to him. Before she full-on lifted it to her face to get a nose full, she draped the thing over the side of the tailgate, like any sane woman would.
Without a word, he climbed under her truck and released the spare, which probably would have taken her until long after dark to accomplish. He had it off and propped beside the blown tire before she could offer to do more than shine her cell phone flashlight for him. Then he jacked up the back of the truck.
“You ever change a tire before?” he asked, kneeling down near the tire.
“Honestly, no. But I do have a manual.”
“I can see how that’d be helpful. See this little key notch here? You’ve gotta unlock it to get your lug nuts off.”
“Ahh.”
He’d rolled up his sleeves and she was fully distracted by the way the muscles in his forearms flexed.
He waited. “You got a key?”
“Oh! Of course.” She dug her keychain out of her pocket and handed it to him.
“Thanks.” He actually winked at her then and she felt heat creep up her cheeks. But that didn’t keep her from staring at him as he got to work. She just stood there admiring the way the twilight shadowed the curve of his jawline and burnished the scruff of his beard.
Handsome. Yes, he was. Okay, hot. Not even up for debate. Just knee-wobblingly good-looking, even with the brown ranch dirt ground into his jeans and a little bit of sawdust still in his hair. And especially with his big hands around the wheel of her truck. He worked the lug nuts off the blown tire like he was buttering toast. She was fascinated by how effortlessly he seemed to do everything.
It was annoying, really.
As he worked, she tried to think of something intelligent to say. Lacking that, she blurted, “So, do you do this often?”
“Change tires?” He grunted with the effort of loosening the last nut.
“No. Yes. I mean—”
“You mean help a stranded woman on the side of the road? No. Not very often. Just lucky timing, I guess.”
“It was. For me.” She fidgeted with the cell phone flashlight, trying to get it closer to the wheel. “Why don’t you come back to the house for dinner? Let me thank you for helping me.”
“Thanks, but I can’t. I’ve... got someplace to be.”
Good thing it was dark because she blushed furiously. “Oh, I’m sorry. Of course. You have a date. I should’ve known—”
“No. Not a date.”
“Oh, that’s okay. You seriously don’t have to explain.”
He looked up at her for a long, excruciating beat, then turned back to the wheel.
“Listen, about the other day...” she began again.
He paused again in his effort. “Which day is that?”
“You know. At the café.”
“What about it?”
“I just wanted to say, first, thank you for buying my lunch, but you didn’t have to, you know.”
“I didn’t have to. I wanted to.”
A man of few words, Cooper Lane’s voice made her want to lean in to catch all the nuance. He was a hard read and she couldn’t really tell if he was catching her meaning.
“I’m really not sure why you would, after I know I-I probably made you feel—totally unintentionally, mind you”—she took a deep breath—“bad or misjudged or unwelcome on the ranch.”
“Totally unintentional.” He nodded disbelievingly at the shredded tire, then grinned.
Staring at the ground, she answered, “No. Not exactly. I mean, I might as well come clean and admit that I had my doubts when Liam hired you. For all the wrong reasons. But I’m a big enough person to admit that, too. And it wasn’t fair of me to judge you based on... innuendo.”
“Can you shine that light a little closer?” He looked at her now, lifting his brows in expectation.
She did, feeling foolish for even bringing this up here on a dark road as he was doing his best to help her. But he wasn’t giving her an out, or much of anything in the way of absolution.
“Anyway,” she babbled on, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. And thank you for helping me tonight.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, lifting the spare tire onto the truck like it weighed literally nothing. “And just so you know innuendo and I got real chummy years ago out of pure necessity. I just try to ignore it now.”
“Very sensible.” She handed him the lug nuts one at a time. He tightened them up and locked the last lug nut with her key. “As a single mom, I’ve certainly dealt with small-town minds and it’s not very pleasant. Certainly not something I would wish on anyone else. Including you.”
She waited for what seemed like minutes before he replied and then it was something inane like, “Like I said, no harm, no foul.” But when he finished and stood up, less than a few inches separated them.
She could feel the heat from his skin on hers.
He’d pulled a rag out of his pocket and wiped his hands on it, but his gaze was fully on her. “This tire should get you home,” he said finally. “But you’ll need to get someone to drive you into town to get a replacement tire tomorrow. I wouldn’t drive on this spare too far.”
“Okay.”
His gaze slid down her face, landing on her mouth, where it lingered for longer than a moment or two. Then he met her eyes. Even in this dim light with the flashlight still between them, his eyes were beautiful and full of all the things he thought of saying but seemed to leave on his editing room floor.
For a minute, she thought he might— kiss her. He reached an arm out past her shoulder toward the edge of the truck’s tailgate, and she stopped breathing as his face came within inches of hers. Her eyes nearly slid shut in anticipation and her heartbeat rang in her ears.
But instead of kissing her, he pulled his arm slowly back holding the jacket she’d draped over the tailgate in his hand. Her heart ka-thumped in her chest as if to say, idiot .
“I’m gonna follow you back home,” he told her stepping back.
She edged away from him, too, tucking her hair behind her ear in self-defense. “That’s totally not necessary. I can get home from here.”
He nodded, still watching her. “Maybe so. But I’ll feel better.”
She swallowed thickly. “Really, no. You’ve got somewhere to be. Thank you, Cooper. You saved the day. My day. At least my night.” She hurried toward the truck cab, then remembered he still had her keys. With a sigh, she turned and reached out for him to toss them to her.
Instead, he walked up and placed them in her hands with a smile. His warm fingers brushed hers. “Drive safe then.”
As she pulled away from the edge of the road, she glanced in her rearview mirror. He was standing there still, watching her go for a long time before getting in his own truck and U-turning back toward his place.
Night had truly fallen out here on the Montana prairie. Darkness here was an animal all its own. No streetlamps to light the road, just the slash of headlights and the stars overhead. That and another pair of headlights coming from the direction of the ranch.
That car seemed to be moving especially unhurriedly and a weird chill chased up her spine. Like the blink of a film reel, she’d watched the car approach as if in slow motion. And as its blinding lights slowly passed, she got her first look at him. The man behind the wheel.
Blink. Scruffy.
Blink. A cluttered dashboard.
Blink. Black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes and half-covering too-long hair.
But as he drove past her, there was no mistaking his menacing scowl as he met her gaze.
Menacing. That was the word. Creep. Another shiver coursed through her.
If she wasn’t mistaken, it was the same man she’d seen in town a few days ago when she’d felt someone was watching her.
And he just happened to be on this road at night, same as her? Where was he coming from? What if she’d been alone out here and Cooper hadn’t stopped to help her? And why hadn’t she let him follow her home?
Stupid pride, Shay.
She’d driven this road at night alone a thousand times and never once had she felt what she’d just felt from that brief encounter. Scared.
With an eye on the rearview mirror, as the stranger’s taillights faded in the distance, she stepped on the gas.