Chapter Two
Jett came out of the bank and spotted a white piece of paper pressed up against the side of the garbage can. He grabbed it. Page three of Autumn’s tax returns. Damn, he had missed one. When those pages went flying, her face had filled with horror. Her desperation had spurred him into action. Whatever was on those pages were her private things, and he had wanted her to have them back.
He folded the paper and stuck it in his coat pocket. He would bring it to her later. Maybe he’d be better off shredding it. Autumn never took too kindly to his showing up. She had avoided him more times than he could count. She thought he didn’t know.
He didn’t blame her for avoiding him. He had been the reason they broke up after he had promised a life with her. But it had been so long ago now. They were different people. At least he was.
Her money was none of his business. But Backwater was the kind of place where secrets were tough to keep hidden. His family was entrenched in the town because their guest ranch employed many people, his older brother was the sheriff, and the brother who followed him in birth order was a race car driver with some notoriety. Everyone talked even when he tried not to listen. He’d heard about Autumn’s troubles some time ago.
He reached his truck and slid inside. Cold filled the cabin. He kicked over the engine and turned up the heater. If Autumn ever put the property on the market, he was prepared to buy it. He wanted to expand the services his ranch offered their guests. Autumn’s location was ideal, and she was already set up for downhill skiing. Every time a guest drove off his ranch to ski somewhere else, the ranch lost opportunity and—he might as well admit it—money. He didn’t like losing money.
The ranch and all its acres, its views of the Montana mountains and the sky that stretched wide, had to go to the next generation of Rykers. At the moment, that was only his niece Izzy. He hoped his brothers would grow the family. He sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one.
He drove through town, past the sheriff’s station, and followed the road that led to the ranch.
Running a guest ranch was like running a small country. And he loved every minute of it because it was his place and his rules. Not like his sheriff brother who had to follow the rules set in place by other people and enforce them even if he didn’t agree. When Jett no longer agreed with the way something went on the ranch, he changed it. Being a rancher was in his blood. He loved the horses and the land. He couldn’t imagine living anywhere he couldn’t see the big Montana sky. Even if the winters could be tough. Another storm was on its way tonight.
He made a quick turn for the stables that housed six horses used for guests. The ranch offered horse rides on trails all year long. And they had Silver Bell. She was as old as they came. He parked and went into the barn. The scent of hay and disinfectant met him like an old friend. His large inhale matched his big smile. Exactly as a barn should smell.
“Hey, girl.” He ran a hand over her gray snout. “You’re stronger than an oak. You know that?” No one ever expected Silver Bell to live into her thirties. But here she was. He didn’t know how much longer she would last. By rights, she should be long gone like her owner, but she persisted, determined to live on in his memory. His youngest brother’s memory. Losing her would slice him in two.
He gave Silver Bell a carrot, checked on the other horses, then circled back toward the main house. The ranch didn’t have a lot of guests right now, but that was fine. Winter in Montana scared all the East Coast tourists. The West Coasters who might want to make Montana their permanent home got wind of a snowstorm and chickened out. Once the weather evened out some, they’d all be back in force.
His family had been fortunate, mostly—if he didn’t count losing his dad when he was ten or losing his youngest brother when Jett was twenty-three. He glanced toward the Archer ski area. Or losing her. But he never lingered long on that thought unless he collided with her on the sidewalk. Thinking about Autumn usually interrupted his good mood.
He went into the main house to get lunch started. His mother was already at the stove, whipping up today’s menu. Karen Ryker was a small but mighty dynamo. She had raised five boys basically on her own and kept this ranch running after his father passed away. He admired his mom for her strength. And sometimes that strength looked like stubbornness and drove him up the wall.
“Howdy.” He grabbed an apron off the hook.
“Oh, hi. Did everything go okay at the bank?” Mom gripped his arm as she passed him on the way to the fridge.
“Just made a deposit, Mom.” And had Autumn’s beautiful face planted into his chest. For the briefest of seconds, he had caught a whiff of caramel and snow. He wanted to smell her again but reminded himself that was not possible.
“You’ve been giving me that same line since you were a teenager and started taking the deposits for me.” His mother placed a baking dish with meatloaf on the counter.
He didn’t remember meatloaf on the menu. Sometimes he wasn’t sure why he bothered with a menu. This ranch might be in his name and a place where he could make up his own rules, but his mother was still a force around here.
If one of his brothers or his niece asked for meatloaf, a tornado couldn’t stop Mom from preparing it.
He and his three brothers all lived on the ranch in one place or another. None of Karen Ryker’s children had gone far. But the ranch had the power to keep anyone rooted. As long as they were good to it, it would be good to them. If Autumn was faced with selling her land, he understood how hard that decision would be for her. She wouldn’t give up easily. And she wouldn’t want him as the buyer.
“Then why do you keep asking me about my time at the bank if you already know the answer?” He winked to make sure she realized he was joking.
Short answers were a habit, like walking the property. He still had chores to do, and talking was for some other time. He never knew when that time was, actually. The ranch always needed his attention, and he wasn’t likely to mention Autumn today or any other. Too many webs were tangled between the Rykers and Autumn’s family.
“Is that your barbecue sauce?” He hoped she wouldn’t notice the subject change.
Mom swatted at him with the dish towel. “I know that trick, Jett. You and Gage learned it from your father and then taught it to Kace and Lock. But since you asked, yes, it is my famous sauce. I like to know what’s going on in town. That’s why I asked about the bank, smart aleck.”
“If you want the town gossip, you had better ask Kace.” Jett wasn’t one for gossiping about who he saw at the bank or, worse, what might have been overheard.
The kitchen doors swung open. Gage strode in, commanding the room with his broad shoulders and crisp sheriff’s uniform. His brother was a no-nonsense guy who believed most things were black and white. He rarely lost his temper. Thankfully, Jett had only had to pull his brother away from a fight a few times.
“Good afternoon.” Gage plopped a kiss on top of their mother’s head.
“Oh good. You’re here. I’m making the meatloaf. It will be ready soon. Sit.” Mom shooed Gage to the table as if he were still a teenager too. The fact all her sons towered over her didn’t ever seem to faze her in the least.
So Gage was the one who had requested the meatloaf. Weird. Gage was more independent than that. He would’ve figured Lock first and then Kace before Gage asked for anything.
“Mom, I’m good. The meatloaf is for Izzy. She had a half day at school and is right behind me. I have to get back to the station. Jett, Cullum Durrell is here to see you. He walked in the same time as Izzy and me. I told him to wait in the main room. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to be bothered. Figured I’d give you a way out if you need.”
“Did he say what he wanted?” He wasn’t expecting a visit from Cullum Durrell, the athletic director of the local nonprofit ski organization.
“I didn’t ask. Probably sponsorship for the ski team again. He kind of expects it after the past three years.” Gage stuck a finger in the barbecue sauce bowl. Mom swatted him too. Gage only laughed.
Jett removed the apron. “I’ll be right back.”
Cullum Durrell didn’t usually make house calls to ask for money. He could do that with a phone call, and when Cullum wasn’t feeling up to a full conversation, he emailed the request. Jett could get behind that method of communication. He preferred it, actually.
Cullum faced the stone fireplace they kept lit all winter for guests to sit by and enjoy. They also provided a coffee bar and a wall of large windows that brought in the mountain views. Cullum had a to-go cup in his hand.
“What brings you out here?” Jett extended a hand.
“Ryker.” Cullum’s cap-filled smile could be seen from the satellites. “I was in the neighborhood. I thought I’d stop by and say hello.”
If Jett’s hand were any smaller, Cullum’s grip would crush it. But he gave as good as he got, and that fake white smile faltered. Cullum should have gone into politics. He played the game better than most. Instead, he had gone into real-estate development and worked his charms on the politicians to advance his interests.
But Cullum wasn’t all that bad. He supported the ski organization so kids in their area could ski competitively with a chance at college scholarships.
“The ranch isn’t exactly on the way to most places. Nice to see you just the same. Do you want to join us for lunch?” That meatloaf would end up feeding twenty.
“No, thanks. I only need a minute of your time.”
“You want the sponsorship again this year. I was surprised you hadn’t asked before the season started.” He usually gave a donation in November when the team was just starting to practice on snow. They always needed money to help fix equipment or enter competitions. He would have to run into the office and grab the checkbook if Cullum needed money today.
“About that. We always want the Ryker Ranch to sponsor our team. You and your family are more than generous with the kids. But there was a reason we waited to approach you till now.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
“We want you to be the head coach for the rest of the season.”
“Excuse me?”
His brother Lock came in wearing a flannel shirt, ripped jeans—and not the fashionable kind—and a knit cap pulled down low on his big stupid head. “Jett, there’s a problem out back. I need you to come and see it.”
Gage picked that exact moment to come through the kitchen. “Hey, Lock. Jett, I’m heading out. I’ll see you later.” He patted Jett on the back. “Cullum.” He nodded in Cullum’s direction.
“Good to see you again, Sheriff. I was just telling Jett here that the ski organization would like him to be the head coach for the rest of the season. Our current coach, Andrew Navarro, is relocating for work. We’re in a bind and could use his expertise. Don’t you think Jett as coach is a good idea?”
Gage glanced between him and Cullum, then back to him. “You goin’ to do it?”
“I just heard about this. I need time to think on it.” He was not going to accept an offer to coach a team of high schoolers. He didn’t have time to take something like that on. He had a ranch to run. Even though he shared the work with Lock, and they had a staff of people who helped out, he had to be on his ranch all day in case anything happened. No, he would turn Cullum down in an email when everyone wasn’t staring at him.
“I think you should do it,” Gage said. “You’d be good at it.”
Jett tried to arrange his face in a way that would tell Gage to shut up. “Like I said, I’ll think on it and get back to you.”
“You’re a great skier,” Lock said, standing beside him. He brought the smell of outside with him into the big hall.
“I’m not a coach.” They were going to force him into saying no right now. “Thanks, Cullum, but I think I have to pass. Our guest attendance will pick up throughout the month right through ski season. I don’t have time to coach. But I’m glad to sponsor. Just send me the form. If you’ll all excuse me, I have to get lunch up for the guests.” He turned and hurried into the kitchen, ignoring whatever Lock was saying to his back.
His mother buzzed around the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on their lunch. “We’re just about ready here. Can you bring the food out to the dining room?”
“Ask Lock to do it.” He didn’t want to go back out there in case Cullum was still talking to his brothers.
“Lockwood is out back fixing the broken fence.”
“He’s in the hall talking to Gage and Cullum.” The fence must be what Lock wanted him to see. Some member of the wildlife in this area must have broken the fence again, and if he had to guess, the repair was probably going to be a pain to fix or cost him a fortune. Or both. Reasons like that were why he could not be a coach. His job was all day, every day.
“Oh, what did Cullum want?”
“Nothing. Money for the team. That’s all.”
His mother raised a brow over the top of her black glasses. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“There is nothing to tell. I have a call in ten minutes. I need to prepare.” He didn’t want to talk about Cullum’s real reason for being there. His mother would chime in like his brothers and give him some work-life balance excuse as to why he should do it.
“A call with whom?” His mom would not give up until he gave her a complete answer. Her stubbornness reared its unpleasant head and had its eyes on him.
“A supplier. I need to go.” He couldn’t come up with a better lie under pressure. She probably knew he didn’t need to speak to a supplier.
“Why are you acting so strange?” Her eyes narrowed behind her glasses.
He had seconds to make a break for it, or he would have to say he’d been asked to be the ski coach and she would want to talk him into doing it.
“Because Cullum Durrell wants him to be the head coach for the ski team,” Lock said, coming through the doors.
Jett hung his head. Too late. Sometimes his large family constantly being around was too much. They meant well, and he loved them for it, but when he wanted his space, he was hard pressed to find it.
“That’s wonderful.” Mom clapped her hands.
“I’m not going to do it.” Better to make that clear and end this conversation.
“Why not?” his mother said. “You’d be a wonderful coach. All the kids will love you. You have so many skills to teach. I always thought you’d make a good coach at any of the sports you played. You have the patience for it.”
“I’m too busy to coach a bunch of kids. And there’s a storm coming.” He turned for the office.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Lock held his big hands in the air and twisted his face into some kind of confused grimace.
“Nothing,” he shouted over his shoulder and closed the door to the office.
He didn’t know how to talk to kids. His family had it all wrong. He might know how to ski, even was good at it once, but he couldn’t coach anyone. He had nothing to say that any of those young athletes needed to hear.
And he had a very busy ranch to run. If Gage and their other brother Kace worked on the ranch too, then sure, he could consider doing something other than working twenty hours a day. But Lock alone wasn’t enough, and their mother was practically retired. She ran off at the drop of a hat sometimes. No, his priority was here. And his priority was growing his business. He couldn’t do that with distractions. The ski team would have to find someone else.
He’d shoot off an email to Cullum. His mind was made up. Nothing would change it. Nothing at all.