Love Never Ends (Big Sky Country #3)

Chapter One

He told her no. Not today. Not ever, in fact. At least not from him and not from his bank. Autumn Archer gathered her puffy down coat, shoving it under her arm. She reached for the financial papers that read like an empty diary lying on the bank manager’s desk. Her shaking hands slid over the pages as if her fingers were sharp skates on ice, and all her research on why she should get a loan to save her land tumbled to the floor.

George Smith smirked and shook his head. Annoyance flashed across his eyes but was gone as quickly as it came. At least he had the decency to come around the desk and help her. The scent of sweat and cinnamon rolled off him, assaulting her nose. She stood in a hurry, trying to avoid him and gather the tattered remains of her dignity.

“I’m sorry, Autumn. I really am.” George tugged the end of his suit jacket. The material was shiny and ill-fitting. His stomach strained against the jacket button, and the sleeves rode above his frayed shirt cuffs.

She wanted to tell him to keep his condolences. She had heard enough “I’m sorrys” in the past two years to last her a lifetime. She never needed to hear it again. “It’s fine. Really. I understand. This is business. You see me as a risk. I’ll make do.”

“Not you. Your ski area. This isn’t personal. You don’t have enough patrons to prove you can pay the loan. And you’ve already mortgaged everything else. If you can’t make the next payment yourself, you should sell.”

“If it were only that easy.”

“I can connect you with a good realtor.”

“You mean Dottie Lucier? She’s already hounding me. Thanks for your time.” She hurried from the office and through the bank as quickly as her boot-clad feet would carry her and before the tears started.

She would not cry in public. She would wait at least until she drove onto her property and then found a quiet place where no one would come looking for her. Not that too many people would. George was right about the lack of customers. In fact, the majority of her patrons came from her next-door neighbor—the Ryker Ranch. Which she wasn’t happy about because she didn’t like the Rykers. Well, one particular Ryker anyway. But that family was a package deal. If someone stood in the crosshairs of one, that person took on them all.

The tears burned behind her eyes, threatening to betray her before she could push through the glass doors that promised freedom into the damp and gray January day. A snowstorm was on its way. The heat in her house could crap out again if the temperatures dropped low enough. She didn’t have enough money to solve her problems, and George Smith had squashed her last option. She couldn’t fight the tears.

Do not cry.

Her palm slapped the cold metal of the door handle. She pushed with more might than needed, her frustration controlling her.

A man took hold of the door like an overeager concierge, ripping it from her hands. Her feet tangled, leaving the ground behind, and they collided.

If she hadn’t seen the guy, she would have sworn she hit a stone wall. The folder of papers sprayed into the air and spun away on the antagonistic gusts of wind. Today was not her day.

She blinked, hoping her eyes would focus. Oh, she could see clearly enough but might prefer not to. Her papers twirled down Main Street like children playing a game of tag. If anyone found her tax forms lying in the gutter, every resident would know her financial situation. Who was she kidding? In Backwater, Montana, the whole town already knew.

“I’ll get them.”

His voice’s low timbre vibrated in her gut.

She could listen to him talk all day, and that was always her problem—she couldn’t shake him loose from her history. Before she could stop Jett Ryker from coming to her rescue, he took off with the grace and speed of the athlete he had always been.

She couldn’t run and hide from her embarrassing escapade. He had seen her and would most likely just show up at her house, bringing the papers there if she suddenly disappeared off the sidewalk and into thin air. Better to get the humiliation over with.

He arranged the papers in a neat pile and handed them to her with a stoic look on his face. “I think I grabbed them all.”

She had to tilt her chin to look up at him. Tall and handsome. Completely unfair. “Thank you.”

“Crazy weather, right?” The tinge of a smile flirted with the corners of his mouth. If he allowed those lips to tilt completely, he would assault her with his charm.

“Looks that way. I have to run. Thanks again for the help. Nice to see you, Jett.” Bumping into him—literally and figuratively—was anything but nice.

She avoided him whenever she could. Hard thing to do in a small town where their properties butted up against each other. But if she ever caught sight of him before he noticed her, she ducked out. It might be cowardly, but it was easier. They had to exist in town together. And for the past two decades, they had managed well enough. She had managed. He always seemed to be just fine with the way things were between them.

“Yeah. You too.” He adjusted his baseball cap and darted inside the bank.

Life was full of regrets, and losing Jett Ryker was one of hers. And she had a few stacked up. She didn’t risk a look back in case he was just inside the door and caught her gawking. She hurried to her truck and shut herself in its safety, where the wind couldn’t get her and where she wouldn’t bump into her past on the worst day of her life.

She had to find a way to save her land, and she had no idea how to do it.

A miracle would be good about now.

She didn’t believe in miracles.