Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Claire
When I got back to the house, I managed to avoid my family, sneaking upstairs to jump straight into the shower. The hot steam calmed me and cleared my mind.
I’d invited Vance to dinner. Not because I felt like I should…
But because I’d wanted to.
One day and my feelings toward him had shifted radically. I’d gone from thinking he was the worst and being furious at him for cutting me out of the case to actually … liking him.
A lot.
Yes, he’d underestimated me, just like so many other people had. But unlike most of them, he had changed his mind. Apologized. Started treating me like a legit partner.
More than that, it felt like we were starting to become friends. He needed one. But until today, I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed one, too.
Things were changing. Cheyenne would always be my best friend.
But she was moving on to a chapter of her life that I couldn’t understand.
I’d still love her just the same, and I knew she’d love me, too.
But things would be different. For her, the change was joyful.
She still had me, but she had more, too.
For me, it felt like loss.
I lathered myself in soap, thinking back to lunch with Vance and how different it had been talking to him instead of Cheyenne. I felt like a traitor for thinking it, but the difference was one of the things that had made it so nice.
Cheyenne held all my history. We’d been friends for practically our whole lives.
I loved her unconditionally, and I knew she felt the same.
But that history colored over everything for us.
It was amazing to have a best friend who’d been there for everything, but it also meant she’d had a front-row seat to all the stupid things I’d done in my life.
Vance hadn’t. He only knew this version of me. And this version of me had been able to quickly earn his respect. His trust.
That gave me a confidence I hadn’t felt in a really long time.
After my shower, I pulled on jeans and a thick red sweater. The temperature had dropped today. It broke my heart a little.
When the weather turned cold, I always found myself dreaming about living somewhere like Miami, where I’d never have to deal with Wyoming winters again. Sunshine and warm days in December—the thought of it made me want to pack my bags and hop on a plane.
The summers there were probably brutal though. No crisp mountain air, wildflower meadows, or wild horses.
I couldn’t imagine life without those things.
The people who’d figured out how to have it all, they were the lucky ones.
Maybe I should go back to school, I mused as I towel-dried my hair.
Become a nurse and sign up with a travel nursing agency.
Spend the winters down south and the summers up north.
See the country. Save lives in a different way.
It wasn’t the worst idea, actually. Except for the whole four years of school thing. Four years of sitting in a classroom, studying textbooks, and taking tests was a high price to pay for a little freedom.
I looked at myself in the mirror and decided to add a touch of makeup.
Nothing crazy, just a swipe of mascara and lip gloss.
Maybe a hint of blush. There were times when I loved going all out with makeup, really dolling it up with a smoky eye and red lipstick.
But I avoided all of it for work, knowing that even a trace of makeup would get some sort of comment from Trey.
Thankfully, I was lucky to have Mom’s gorgeous skin—although mine was dotted with freckles because I could never be bothered to put on sunscreen.
Even so, a natural tan and lip balm was usually enough to satisfy my vanity.
Tonight, though… I wanted a little more.
I tried not to think about why.
Satisfied with my appearance, I headed downstairs to eat. I paused halfway, hearing Vance’s deep voice coming from the kitchen. He’d gotten here early and had been intercepted by Mom.
That made me very nervous. There was no telling what stories she might have told him about me. The last time I’d brought a date over, she’d actually pulled out my baby book to show him.
I leaned my head back and let out a long sound of frustration, steeling myself before heading down. Beth appeared at the bottom of the stairs and grinned as she headed up to meet me.
“Agent Weston said you invited him to dinner personally.” She winked, giving me a knowing smile. “I’ve always known you to move fast, but family dinner already? That’s gotta be a new record.”
I glared at her. “Knock it off. He’s a coworker. A friend. That’s it.”
Beth’s head jerked back. She was the one person I never snapped at. “I was just kidding.”
Guilt struck hard. “I know. Sorry.” I closed my eyes and rubbed my chest. “I guess I’m just really stressed out about this case.”
“The case. Right. That’s why you’re wearing lipstick. And earrings. ” She flicked one, giving me a look that said she could see right through me.
“Stop,” I hissed, ripping the earrings out of my ears and sticking them into my pocket. “The last thing I need is people ribbing me about him—especially if it puts ideas into Mom’s head.”
“You invited a man to family dinner. I think you put those ideas there all on your own.”
I felt my face turn crimson. “I didn’t really invite him. You know she’s the one who told him he could come to dinner anytime.”
She laughed, a look of utter amazement on her face. “What in the world has gotten into you? I’ve never seen you like this. One little tease and you’re flipping out.” She leaned closed and lowered her voice, glancing up and down the stairs to make sure no one was close. “Do you actually like him?”
“No!” Yes. Dammit. “It’s just Mom. You know how she’s been.” I smacked my forehead, more frustrated at myself than at her. “I shouldn’t have invited him. I’m just trying to be nice to a coworker, and she’s probably already planning the wedding in her head.”
Beth smirked, but she tried to reassure me. “Maybe not. From what I’ve heard, she’s in there trying to get the inside scoop on the case. That might be even more interesting to her than fixing you up.”
“Maybe,” I said, cheering considerably.
Beth hesitated, then gave me a gentle smile. “I won’t tell anyone. And you should put the earrings back on. They look great on you.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” I lied. “I’m just being friendly.”
“Well, in that case, you better get in there and rescue him,” she said, winking. “Because Mom’s been giving him the third degree for twenty minutes straight.”
I gave Beth a desperate look, then braced myself and walked toward the kitchen. Before I could overthink it, I put the earrings back in and fluffed my hair one more time.
As the voices became clear, I could tell that Beth was right.
Mom was giving him the third degree, in her casual “this is how I chat with all the guests” way, peppering him with questions about his family and his job.
It gave me a smug feeling to hear him answer without giving her any of the personal details he’d shared with me.
When I turned the corner, Vance was perched on a barstool, snacking on cheese and crackers. “Hey,” I said awkwardly, trying not to think about how good he looked sitting there in the one space that was normally reserved for family.
Or how good he looked, period.
He’d changed into blue jeans, casual boots, and a slim-fitting sage sweater that showed off the muscle definition in his arms. I didn’t normally like sweaters on a man, but the way he wore them changed my mind.
He glanced toward me. “Hey. Your mom gave me a snack while I was waiting.”
A laugh sputtered out before I could stop it. It sounded like something a childhood playmate would say, not a DCI agent who was only here because we were working a homicide case together.
He gave me a strange look. “What?”
“Nothing,” I said, turning toward the refrigerator. I pulled it open mostly to have a place to hide my face. “Want a beer?” I called out.
“Sure.”
I grabbed two and tossed him one. He caught it with one hand, those intense blue eyes looking at me in a way that made my cheeks flush. His gaze lingered, sending a thrill through me.
It was a good thing Mom had her back to us.
The spell broke when she turned around. “Claire, you wouldn’t believe how many calls we’ve had today from people wanting to stay here.”
“Oh, really?” I asked, barely paying attention.
I was still thinking about that look on Vance’s face.
“It’s crazy,” she said, shaking her head. “They’re coming here because of that poor girl’s murder. The news reporters I understand, although I’m not sure why they think they need to camp out here. But some of them are regular people.” She lifted her hands helplessly.
“It’s a thing now,” Vance said. “True crime podcasts and video channels are a big deal, and some of them make a full-time living from the content they create. They’ll travel across the country for an interesting case. Some people have a weird obsession with murder.”
“That’s so strange,” Mom said, her eyes wide. “I’m glad you’re staying with us and can help keep an eye on things in case some of these people are off their rockers.”
Vance grinned. “They’re generally harmless. Just looking for content.”
“Well, that’s good to know. We’re booked solid for the rest of the month, which is surprising. Things normally start dying down this time of year.”
“Do you not get a lot of tourists in the winter?” he asked, clearly surprised. “That’s prime season for some mountain towns.”
Mom shook her head. “No. Wildwood isn’t much of a winter destination since we don’t have any ski resorts here. We occasionally get some snowmobilers or cross-country skiers, but it’s pretty dead here after October.”
He took a long sip of his beer. “How do you sustain the resort in the winter, then?”
“The tourist side is only part of our operation,” I explained. “We started it to sustain the ranch, not the other way around. We used to be cattle only.”
“It got harder and harder to make a living that way,” Mom added, shrugging.
“Some years, ranches our size barely scratch even on cattle. We had to adapt. So I came up with the resort as a way to bring in extra cash flow and to create extra jobs for my kids so that they could all make a living here. If they want to.”
I knew it killed her that we hadn’t all wanted it.
“Smart,” Vance said. “You’ve done an excellent job with it.”
“Thank you,” she said, beaming. “I’m glad you’re enjoying your stay. I know you’re a guest, but can I impose on you to help Claire set the table? Dinner is almost ready.”
“I’d be happy to,” he said, standing. He looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
My mind flashed with an image of him saying those same words under very different circumstances. I blinked it away, hoping he couldn’t see how quickly my heart was beating.
“Um. Plates are in that cabinet,” I said, pointing. “Grab nine of them. I’ll get silverware.”
He whistled a tune as he moved past me, giving me a whiff of what was probably ridiculously expensive cologne.
Cologne that made me go weak in the knees.
Inviting him here had been a very, very bad idea.