Chapter 7
Juniper
Funny how a person’s life could change in an instant.
Only days ago, she was in her office trying to fire her latest intern. Now she sat in one of the plush chairs in the smaller
of the Move Inc corporate jets, heading for a town in Wyoming she had never heard of, with that same intern sitting in the
seat next to her.
She touched the fingers of one hand to the steady pulse beating in her other wrist. She found it both comfort and curse that
she was so aware of her heartbeat now. For thirty-four years, she had taken that beat for granted, never expecting she had
a congenital heart condition that could have ended her life at any second.
Everything she had achieved—her work at Move Inc, her prestigious penthouse condo, the healthy portfolio, her charitable contributions—could
have disappeared in a blink.
The fragile nature of life had never been so apparent to her.
“We should be there soon.” Alison peered down at the landscape passing quickly beneath them. “I think that’s Jackson Hole.
I recognize the Grand Teton below us and to the right.”
Glen Little, one of the Move Inc pilots who had flown June around the country several times before, chimed in over the intercom.
“We’re beginning our descent. Another ten minutes or so and we will be on the ground. It might get bumpy as we head over these
mountains, but I will do my best to keep things nice and easy for you.”
“It’s kind of fun to fly on a private jet,” Alison said, looking around the comfortable surroundings with interest. “This is my first time. It’s so weird that we didn’t have to go through security or anything.”
Though Alison was at least in her midtwenties if she had already earned a law degree, she had the fresh-faced excitement of
a child discovering how to skateboard for the first time.
“That is definitely an advantage,” June said, feeling ancient at her advanced age of thirty-four.
“If we were flying commercial, we would probably have to go to Jackson Hole, which is never a direct flight from anywhere.
And then we would have to find somebody willing to drive more than an hour to pick us up. The county airport near Bridger
Peak is only a fifteen-minute drive to our house.”
June would have been fine flying commercial to Wyoming but Adam had insisted they take one of the corporate planes. He had
been overly solicitous since returning from his overseas trip, telling her several times that she needed to stay healthy since
the company would collapse without her.
She didn’t quite buy that. Her role as head of marketing was definitely important to their bottom line, but they had a deep
bench of excellent people who could step up and take over her responsibilities, even if she needed to be here longer than
a few weeks.
“Will we need to hire a car to take us to your ranch?”
Alison gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s all taken care of. My grandma is working today and neither our housekeeper Jo Bailey
or her husband, Patrick, who is our ranch foreman, could pick us up as they had other appointments.”
“Do they have Uber or Lyft in rural Wyoming?”
“Not really, though there is a couple who runs a business taking tourists into Jackson Hole or dropping them off at various
trailheads in the area. But I’ve asked a good friend to pick us up.”
“Oh. That’s nice.”
“Doctor Singh said you should not drive for another week so I’m happy to take you anywhere you want to go. Anybody at the ranch would do the same. After you can drive again, I’m sure we will be able to find a ranch vehicle for you to use. It’s nice to have the freedom to explore or run into town when you want without having to wait for someone to give you a ride.”
“Thank you.”
She couldn’t quite figure out why Alison Wells was being so kind to her. Inviting someone who was a virtual stranger to recover
from surgery in your guesthouse in Wyoming seemed an extreme offer, simply for a good letter of recommendation.
More to the point, why had June agreed to the plan? It was completely unlike her to take off with a woman she had known less
than a month to travel to some isolated ranch in Wyoming, simply because June’s mother had adored literary icon Carson Wells.
She had never been so impulsive.
Then again, she had never died and been brought back to life before. Maybe something central inside her had changed, more
than the implantable cardioverter device underneath her skin.
As the plane began to descend, June looked out the window at the small town surrounded by huge mountains on all sides. Scattered
ranch houses dotted the landscape, patches of color in a sea of green.
The plane landed smoothly and Glen came on the intercom. “Everybody okay back there? Hang tight for a minute while I finish
things up here in the cockpit and put down the steps for you.”
The door to the jet opened a few moments later and he reached up to take her hand as she walked down the steps to the tarmac.
June’s immediate impression as she looked around the Bridger Peak airport was one of space and grandeur. On all sides, mountains
reached up to the sky.
The air seemed fresh and clean, with a hint of sage and pine. She inhaled deeply, already feeling some of the strain seeping away.
She wanted to stand in this spot all day and simply inhale.
“Hey, Beck!” Alison Wells sounded happier than June had ever heard her. “Thanks so much for coming to pick us up at the last
minute.”
“Not a problem,” a deep, laconic voice echoed. “You know I’m always happy to help.”
“Right. You might even say you’re at our beck and call,” Alison said with a grin, which made the man groan, though he reached out to hug her with clear affection.
When he released her, the man turned toward her with an open, welcoming expression and June froze.
Beck, the neighbor and friend Alison had greeted fondly, was none other than Beckett Hunter.
She knew this man. Well, she amended, she didn’t really know him so much as she knew of him. Beckett Hunter was famous in some circles. Infamous, really.
She couldn’t quite reconcile that the hard-nosed prosecutor she had read about in the papers when she worked in Silicon Valley—and
heard about from those with firsthand knowledge—was this man in jeans, boots and a T-shirt that hugged a well-muscled chest.
What was he doing here , at a tiny airstrip outside a small town in Wyoming? Besides picking them up, obviously.
“Good to have you back,” he said to Alison. “How was the big city?”
“About what I expected. Noisy, busy, crowded. A lot like Salt Lake, though I’m not sure the traffic was as bad.”
“Did you find what you were looking for?”
“In a manner of speaking,” she said in a rather oblique tone that June didn’t understand.
For the first time, he seemed to become aware of her. He stepped away from Alison and gave a welcoming smile.
“Hello. I’m Beckett Hunter. Alison’s neighbor.”
“I know who you are.”
Her voice came out more clipped than she intended, and he frowned slightly, looking off balance at her sudden hostility.
“Okay, then.”
Alison seemed oblivious to the undercurrents. “This is Juniper Connelly, Beck. My boss. Well, my former boss, anyway. She
sort of fired me.”
For some reason, Alison seemed to emphasize the word boss .
“So you decided to bring her home with you?”
“It’s a long story.”
She seemed uncomfortable suddenly, as if she didn’t want to get into the details of their situation, and she quickly rushed
on before he could respond.
“Thanks for giving us a ride back to The Painted Sky. Ms. Connelly is going to be staying at Dad’s cabin.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes. I’ll explain everything later,” she said as Glen handed their bags to them from the cargo area of the jet.
“Is that everything?” the pilot asked.
“That’s all for me,” June said.
“Same for me. Thanks so much for the ride,” Ali said warmly. “It was really fun to fly in style.”
“You’re welcome. Maybe when I head back to pick you up, I’ll be able to come in a day early and do some flyfishing around
here. I’ve heard it’s amazing.”
“It’s great,” Beck said. “If you come, let me know and I can point you to a few good places.”
“Deal.”
Glen seemed to have no idea who Beckett Hunter was. Why should he? Glen was a native of Seattle and wouldn’t have had any
reason to read about a San Jose attorney.
Beck had been a much-celebrated assistant prosecutor in San Jose, on his way to becoming the district attorney someday. He
had a reputation as hard charging, ruthless, relentless.
She had nothing against prosecutors. She had watched plenty of Law & Order in her day and knew all about the important role they played in the criminal justice system. But Beckett Hunter had been
ambitious and driven, completely focused on winning. If a case didn’t meet his personal criteria for being successfully litigated,
chances were it wouldn’t go to trial.
June had always made a point of not holding a grudge against people. She had seen enough vindictive, petty personalities throughout
her career in the Big Tech world to know they always paid a price in the long run. Karma drove a big bus.
June was willing to make an exception for Beckett Hunter. She found it impossible not to dislike a man who had—at least once
that she knew about—put the interests of the prosecutor’s office above those of a crime victim.
What were the odds that she would find him here , in this place she had come to for refuge and healing?
Juniper could feel her pulse begin to accelerate, throbbing in her neck. She filled her lungs with mountain air, willing herself
to relax and breathe.
Wyoming was a big place. Surely, their paths would seldom cross. She would simply have to do her best to avoid the man.
“I’ll load that up for you. The truck is over there,” Beck said, pointing to a dark blue extended-cab pickup truck.
She wanted to refuse and tell him she could handle her own bag, but that would sound ridiculous. Instead, she gave a polite
nod.
Alison was busy chattering away to Beck about some of the touristy things she had enjoyed in Seattle so June reached for the
rear door of the pickup truck.
“You can ride shotgun if you want,” Alison said, and June wanted to tell her she didn’t need to still act like her subservient
intern here. Not that she had needed to in Seattle, either.
“I’m fine.” She forced a smile, reminding herself that Alison Wells wasn’t responsible for any decisions Beckett Hunter had made nearly a decade ago.
She climbed into the back seat of the pickup truck and came face-to-face with a large dog who seemed to be smiling at her.
Her gasp was as instinctive as it was embarrassing.
Beckett, about to climb into the driver’s seat, sent her an apologetic look. “Sorry. I probably should have warned you about
Hank. He’s harmless, but if you don’t like dogs or would be more comfortable, you can sit in the front. Hank and Ali are old
friends.”
She would much rather deal with a slavering dog than have to talk to Beckett Hunter. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice clipped.
“I like dogs. I was just surprised.”
She did not, however, care much for shortsighted prosecutors.
The truck smelled of leather, dog and some kind of masculine, undeniably appealing scent she couldn’t precisely identify.
He probably doused his floorboards with aftershave, she thought sourly.
The dog, who had pointy ears and a gray-and-white-mottled coat, continued to grin at her, tongue lolling. June had never had
much experience with big dogs, but this one seemed friendly enough.
As Beckett Hunter pulled away from the airstrip and turned onto a two-lane road that headed toward the largest of the mountains,
June gave the dog a tentative pet and asked herself again what the hell she was doing there.