Chapter 1
Six years later…
The refrigerator spilled its faint light onto the kitchen floor of The Broken Bridle Saloon, the fridge's open door forgotten. Kip moved to the swinging wooden door leading into the dining room and peeked over the curved frame to see if he was still there.
Just as she’d expected, Trace Daniels sat in the last booth on the left side of the room.
It was his usual spot. Relief flooded her like the Wild River during the spring thaw.
He sat, sipping coffee, reading a report on whatever, and smiling at the other customers whenever they called his name and stopped to chat. And, God, he was gorgeous!
Working at Wild River Ranch had given that man more muscles than any man should have.
Especially when he wore those faded jeans that hugged his firm thighs, that green button-down shirt that drew attention to the width of his shoulders, and that black cowboy hat that warned every woman in town what a bad boy he could be.
The hat lied, but there was no doubt the man was all male.
And he wanted to be hers. He hadn’t kept that a secret, almost from the day she moved to Wilder. They connected on a level she hadn’t felt in a very long time—six years, to be exact.
The thought of never knowing where that connection would take them shot regret though her.
Because now she had to leave. It didn’t matter how much she wanted to stay in Wilder, Wyoming.
It had been a foolish choice to come as close to her hometown as she had.
But Wilder was perfect. Perfect for her, anyway.
So, for the first time in six years, she didn’t want to move on.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, interrupting her thoughts.
Kip stared at the phone number on her screen.
The same local area code as the last three times, but still a number she didn’t recognize.
Had the room grown colder, or was it just her?
Her shaking hands made the digits hard to read.
And yes, she needed both hands to keep from dropping it. Or throwing it across the room.
The spit in her mouth dried up as dread gripped her throat. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone? How long was she supposed to pay for something that wasn’t even her fault? But it was. At least that’s what she kept telling herself. Was this nightmare ever going to end?
She was the only girl in the world who prayed for spam and sales calls. But she knew in her gut that wasn’t what this was. With a quick shake of her head, she huffed an angry breath. She was being ridiculous. She had customers waiting for their orders.
Just answer the stupid phone.
That was the only way she could be sure. It wasn’t like she had anything to lose by answering. Only the life she’d spent the past six months building. Again. Not answering wouldn’t help. If it was him, they already knew where she was.
Again.
Oh, suck it up, buttercup. You brought this on yourself, and you know it.
She was the worst kind of coward, clinging to the 'ignorance is bliss' side of the fence. Knowing they’d found her—again—was better than constant worry, always looking over her shoulder. Still, her heart wasn’t ready to leave Wilder, a place just starting to feel like home.
It sucked, but no one was going to swoop in and rescue her now. Once that may have been possible, but not anymore. With a trembling finger, she swiped across the screen of her phone to answer the call.
“H-hello?” She couldn’t keep the quiver out of her voice, no matter how hard she tried.
Silence answered her, as it always did. Without saying a word, she hung up. Goosebumps prickled her arms as fear shimmered down her spine. She wasn’t sure she could do this again.
You don’t have a choice.
That was the plain and simple truth. Placing the phone back in her apron pocket, she did her best to calm her racing heart. She didn’t have time to worry about this or to make all the plans needed to start over somewhere new. She had customers waiting, but since when had that mattered?
She’d hoped Wilder would be her forever home. A place where the people accepted her and the Little who lived inside her. What did it really matter if she finally felt like she belonged? So what?
She’d left towns she loved before, many of them. But no matter what she did or where she landed, her past always caught up with her. She’d find a new town. Sure, it wouldn’t be as friendly and quirky as this one. And okay, she wouldn’t be able to be herself like she had here.
She’d started over more times than she could count. This would be no different. But it was different.
She blinked away the tears that burned her eyes. This was her life now. Crying wouldn't change anything. People like her couldn’t expect anything better.
Maybe she should stay here and let whatever happens... happen. Six years was a long time to be on the run, constantly looking over her shoulder and checking every face to see if they were the one who would finally outsmart her, ending all of her worries forever. It almost sounded appealing.
With a huff, she straightened her shoulders and her imaginary crown.
She wasn’t solving anything by standing here, wallowing in self-pity.
That pitcher of Hank’s famous Morning After Miracle hangover cure wasn’t going to serve itself.
After yesterday’s Friendsgiving celebration at Wild River Ranch, she had a lot of customers asking for it.
She wasn’t hiding in the kitchen when she had work to do.
Pushing through the swinging kitchen door, she couldn’t help but smile.
Christmas decorations filled the diner from top to bottom, especially the ceiling.
Lush pine garland carpeted the ceiling, with hundreds of ornaments hanging from the boughs.
It was so thick the ceiling was completely hidden.
They barely needed the Christmas tree in the corner, but she was still excited about the presents sitting on the red felt skirt underneath. It was freakin’ fantastic.
The customers, happier than usual despite the many hangovers, finished everything off, making this her favorite season and her favorite spot to be.
At least it had been until the calls picked back up.
But she wasn’t focusing on that right now.
With a pitcher in hand, Kip headed to the closest table. She had work to do.
Twenty minutes and two more pitchers of Miracle Morning After later, Kip had no choice but to wait on the three customers she hadn’t checked on: Trace Daniels, Silas Holt, and a man she’d never seen before.
Something about the stranger gave her a bad feeling.
He wasn’t dressed like the tourists they usually saw.
This man looked like he intended to stop in Jackson Hole but ended up in Wilder instead.
With his statement piece…tan wool, double-breasted topcoat, cream turtleneck sweater (she’d bet her bottom dollar was cashmere), and matching pants…
plus his espresso brown boots that screamed Saint Laurent, he stood out among the men in flannel, worn jeans, and equally worn cowboy boots.
What was a man like that doing in Wilder? Even more puzzling was his interest in her. Everything in her wanted to run back to the kitchen and hide, but that wouldn’t help. Staying alone in the kitchen would only make her an easier target.
She glanced at Trace, sitting in his booth and patiently waiting for her to join him. He was such a wonderful guy. Yesterday, at the Friendsgiving celebration, he’d been her Daddy for the day in all the games and races.
It had been the perfect day, thanks to the wolfdog Dodger, who’d knocked over the bowl of tiles used to pair people up and nipped at Trace until he reached for her tile. It was almost as if Dodger wanted them together, but that was crazy. He was just a wild wolfdog.
Nevertheless, Trace had been the perfect Daddy.
The best. Just like she’d known he would be.
A twinge of guilt pinched her chest. Lonzo would have been an amazing Daddy, too. He’d always been a caring Dom. He was a fantastic husband, too, for that brief time before she’d gotten him killed.
She hadn’t deserved Lonzo. She deserved Trace even less.
And that was enough reminiscing about old wounds.
She stopped at the nearest table, ready with her pad and pencil.
Only then did she see Silas, now sitting at the same table he’d occupied the last time he’d been in The Broken Bridle.
She replayed everything that had happened. That had been weeks ago.
Putting on her widest, welcoming smile, she made her way to his booth. “Morning, Silas. Long time, no see. How you been? Did you get that promotion you were hoping for at the Three Eagles Ranch?”
Silas stiffened at her question. Uh-oh. That wasn’t a good sign.
A moment later, he relaxed and flashed her a wide smile.
“Nope. Apparently, I’m not experienced enough to be the foreman of the Clarks’ spread.
They hired a new guy from out of town. He came from a bigger ranch down in Texas, so I’m sure he’ll do fine. ”
“Oh no! I’m so sorry. Well, that’s their loss. You’d be a great foreman. Imagine hiring a Texan. What does a Texan know about Wyoming winters? I’ll bet when he has to check the herds in subzero weather, he’ll head back to sunnier pastures, no pun intended.”
Silas cocked his head and shrugged. “We’ll have to wait and see. I’m sure it’ll all work out.”
Kip wanted to march out to the Three Eagles and give Jack Clark, the owner of the Three Eagles Ranch, a piece of her mind.
Silas had been with them for more than ten years.
Surely that was good for something. “I hope they know what they’re doing, passing on an experienced cowboy like you.
Breakfast’s on me this morning. What’ll you have? ”
Silas stiffened, and she realized she’d made a mistake. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to that cowboy pride. Not that she’d need to now.
“I ‘preciate that, but I can pay for my own food. I just want a cup a’coffee.”
“Cream and sugar? Or would you like to try one of our peppermint lattes this morning?”
He stared at her with a frown. “That supposed to be a joke?”
Yikes! Losing the foreman position bothered him more than he let on. “One coffee, black as tar and strong enough to lift a steer, coming right up.”
He gave her a nod. “That’s more like it.”
She grinned. The stoic, taciturn characters in those Louis L’Amour westerns couldn’t hold a candle to Silas. “I’ll have it right out.”
That went pretty well. She was worried Silas would blame her if he didn’t get the job, especially after she spilled coffee all over the table during his meeting.
To be honest, it hadn’t seemed like the meeting was going that smoothly, but she’d been hoping for the best. Silas had always been nice to her and left generous tips.
She moved to the next booth, bracing herself to handle the overdressed tourist. “Howdy!” she chirped. There, that was cheerful and Western. “What can I get you this morning?”
The man peered over the top of the menu. He looked her up and down as he handed her the laminated list of Sunday morning options. “I’ll have a slice of huckleberry coffee cake and a cup of coffee. And before you ask, I want mine black as well.”
“Good choice. You can’t go wrong with huckleberry anything, especially the coffee cake. You’ll have to come back in the summer and try the huckleberry ice cream.”
He didn’t answer, swapping his stare for a leer. Either way, the man gave her the creeps. She didn’t like him, and her douchebag radar was almost never wrong.
“Right. I’ll get that order right out,” she said, turning her back before he could speak.
Was he still staring? She could swear his eyes burned into her back, or more likely her backside.
She could tell by the way the skin on the back of her neck crawled.
No need to waste time checking. Instead, quickening her pace, she crossed the room to Trace.