Chapter 2
Liv
The car turned onto a gravel driveway lined with trees.
A glance at my phone told me it was after eleven Montana time.
A five-hour flight followed by a two-hour drive into nowhere.
If I hadn’t glanced up from perusing my emails, I would have missed the town small enough to miss, half an hour earlier.
“Great,” I muttered as the driveway continued.
I was about to suggest to the driver that we’d made a wrong turn when a white farmhouse appeared up ahead.
Quaint with black shutters, it reminded me of something I’d see while scrolling.
It was almost like the perfect picture, with a wooden swing on the front porch, two rocking chairs opposite it with a small table between them.
Maybe that was where our money had gone—making the house magazine-ready.
The driver stopped the car, exited, and walked around to open the door for me.
“It’s not New York,” I muttered, leaving my purse in the car. “Wait here, please, while I make sure he’s here.”
He? I really didn’t know since I still hadn’t found a name, and I’d been through the folder three times. It was unlike my brother. Careless. But maybe that’s what love did. If so, I was glad I didn’t have to worry about it.
After climbing the steps to the house and crossing the porch, I opened the screen door and knocked. I glanced around, seeing the mountains in the distance and a barn too far away to walk to in heels. When no answer came, I knocked again but turned my head when I heard a trunk closing.
“I said to wait,” I called to the driver.
“Yes, ma’am.” Yet he placed the suitcase next to the steps.
I rolled my eyes, not liking the move or the ma’am.
Stepping from the door, I peeked into a window.
No one was inside, but I saw a tidy, rustic kitchen with white cabinets and a large island.
The room flowed into a breakfast nook, and in the far back was a set of stairs.
To my left, I could see an enormous living room with leather couches and a big-screen television.
Aged wooden beams flanked the ceiling, and a stone fireplace stood below the television.
Now I was certain they had upgraded the house with our money.
“How long ago did Gabe make this purchase?” I muttered just as the sound of gravel under tires caught my attention.
The car was backing down the driveway. I ran across the porch and down the steps, but my heels limited my speed, and by the time I reached the driveway, he was too far to chase without breaking my ankle on the stones.
“Asshole,” I grumbled.
At least he’d removed my purse with my laptop in it, from the back seat and placed it next to the suitcase.
Hands on my hips, I looked around more, noticing a black pickup truck parked on the side of the house.
That told me someone was home. I stomped down the steps, my heels teetering precariously on the gravel, and headed to the barn.
My ankles turned with every step, and I cursed whoever thought gravel made a good driveway.
When I hit dirt, my heel sank, and every step became a calculated struggle not to lose my shoes.
The door to the barn was open, and the closer I came, the distinct sound of music touched my ears.
It was a song I hadn’t heard in years, one that took me back to my college days because only one person I knew had ever liked country music.
My steps faltered at the memory. Pushing it away, I walked on until I stepped into the barn, where my heels sank into more dirt and hay.
“Hello?” I called. “I’m from…” Shoot, what company had Gabe used? It hadn’t been Icinda; that was the only thing I knew for sure. “…Luna Holdings.”
“Shit, is that today? Hold on.”
Goosebumps pebbled my skin, and my steps halted at the gruff baritone. There was something familiar about it. Too gruff, too hard. It couldn’t be. It was just the song, that was all.
A head of messy blond hair popped up from a stall where a horse with black spots on its brown fur stood. Strong, muscular shoulders, a large hand that patted the horse as he walked out of the stall, his head down.
My chest seized, and my heart became an erratic thudding of beats.
“Sorry, I forgot all about it,” he said, wiping his hands on a grimy towel. “I didn’t—”
His head lifted, brown eyes, soft and almost golden, meeting mine.
The air froze; time seemed to still.
“Olivia?”
I couldn’t speak as memories slammed me back in time, fifteen years earlier, when I’d given up happiness, hope, and love.
He continued to stare at me.
“Hudson,” I breathed.
His expression shifted as the shock wore off, causing his features to harden.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Years of practiced nonchalance, of letting my father’s insults roll off my back, of being the cold, calculating businesswoman he’d molded me to be snapped into place.
I folded my arms. “My brother bought this farm, and I’m here to inspect his purchase.”
“It’s my ranch,” he spat, throwing the towel into a bucket and stopping the music. “And a woman made the offer and met me to sign the papers in Bozeman. I never saw your brother, so get off my property.” He stormed past me without another word.
Tori. Damn it. I was going to strangle Gabe. He had to have known, and that’s why he sent me.
“It’s my property now. Let me guess, black hair, pretty blue eyes, too sweet for her own good?”
He stopped and glanced back at me.
“Yeah.”
“My sister-in-law, Victoria.”
“Yeah, that was her name.”
“Damn them.” I stomped past him, inhaling the scent of cedar and masculinity that clung to him. “I’ll take care of this.”
Yanking my bag from where the driver had left it, I pulled my phone out.
“Good. And tell him the deal’s off. If I’d known you were involved, I would have taken the lower offer.”
“And if I’d known it was you, I wouldn’t have canceled my Pilates class. Trust me, I’d rather be back in my penthouse, sipping on wine, than out in the middle of nowhere stuck with you.”
His heavy footfalls paused, and he threw a glare over his shoulder at me before continuing his trek up the porch, slamming the door of the house behind him.
My hand trembled as I hit Gabe’s number. Hudson Thomas. The boy I’d given all my firsts to, who I’d once loved so much that he had carved his initials in my heart where they remained. The boy I’d given up for revenge, for my brother, for my mother’s memory.
“You there?” Gabe answered.
“You asshole.”
“Ah, you are.”
“What were you thinking? Send a car and call the plane back.” I was fired up, and Gabe never knew to take that as a sign to avoid irritating me further.
“Sounds like it’s going well.”
“Gabe, I’m serious. Send the car back now. Tori can come out and handle this just like she conveniently secured the deal. Let me guess, she used her maiden name?”
“Something like that.”
“I hate you even more now.”
“Eh, you love me and you need this.”
“I need this?” I screamed.
“Must be bad service there. You’re breaking up.”
“William Gabriel Icinda, you—”
“What? Can’t hear you, Liv.”
He disconnected, and I stared at the phone before a frustrated scream tore from me.
I stomped my foot, but my heel sank, and I almost tumbled over.
Calming myself, I tugged my heel free and smoothed my hand over my dress.
With a toss of my hair, I turned to face the house.
I couldn’t stay here. There was no way I could survive three days here.
Not with the threat of memories slipping from where I had stored them for over a decade.
Closing my heart off, becoming a lesser version of my father.
Not here. Not with Hudson.