Chapter 16
WEST
I walked into the barn and froze.
It looked . . . different.
“Hey, West.” Gunner walked out of the tack room and jerked up his chin. He was carrying a stack of empty five-gallon buckets.
“Hi.” I planted my hands on my hips as he took the buckets to a shelf along the wall.
An empty shelf. Yesterday, there’d been splice wire on that shelf, but the barbed loops were hanging on the wall.
The saddles had been oiled and arranged neatly on their racks. The halter ropes and bridles were organized on their hooks. The lawn mower I’d been parking in the corner was gone.
I was still taking inventory of the changes when a hand smacked my shoulder.
“Hey.” Jax passed me, with Luka and Nicky following on his heels.
He stopped in the middle of the barn, then turned in a slow circle.
“Looks good, guys. Appreciate the help.”
“No problem,” Luka said. “What’s next?”
Jax checked his watch. “Would you guys mind hauling some firewood from the stack behind the shed to the guest firepit? Then you can take off. It’s almost five.”
“You got it.” Nicky nodded before the three of them set off for the shed.
“How’d you make out on the swathing?” Jax asked.
The swathing? I didn’t want to talk about swathing. I wanted to talk about the barn and why it looked . . . clean. “What’s going on here?”
“What do you mean?”
I circled a finger in the air. “Did you do all of this?”
“No. I was out riding with guests all day. Luka came with me to train while Gunner and Nicky tackled this. I gave them that list you’ve been keeping on the workbench.”
A workbench that wasn’t nearly as chaotic as it had been yesterday when I’d come in to collect my fencing pliers.
“Huh.” I rubbed a hand over my jaw. “Did they clean out the shed?”
“Think so.”
The shed had been a disaster for months. It had become a dumping ground for rakes and shovels and other yard tools. The spot where we’d normally stow the mower had been overrun, hence why I’d been parking it in the barn.
I’d been meaning to organize it but hadn’t had time.
“This is . . .” Damn.
“Pretty great, right?” Jax grinned.
“Yeah.” It was fucking amazing.
“Grandma called and needs help fixing a leak in the roof of her chicken house tonight.”
“Need a hand?” That was normally a job Dad would do, but since she clearly hadn’t started speaking to him again, she’d called Jax.
“Nah. Should be easy. I’m going to head over now. She promised dinner, and I’m starving. Are you going to be around later? I could swing by for a beer.”
“That sounds good.” Did I have beer? There sure wasn’t much for food at my house. Last night I’d made a peanut butter–and-jelly sandwich on questionable bread.
Maybe tonight I’d head into town. Trips to the grocery store were usually rushed and frantic. But everything on my own to-do list could wait until tomorrow. For once, that list was manageable.
The past two weeks had been a couple of the most productive in my life. Without being pulled to pitch in on the resort or take a trail ride, I’d been able to focus on the ranch. Last week, I’d replaced a stretch of old barbed wire fence that had been neglected for far too long. Then I’d moved some cattle between pastures. And this week, with the hot July weather and our abundance of grass, I’d started cutting hay.
Six meadows were lined with windrows. With any luck, the weather would hold, and it would dry over the next few days. Then I’d start
baling.
Haying was one of the more time-consuming annual projects on the ranch. One that typically meant little sleep and long hours because I had to stop all the damn time and help with guest activities.
But for two weeks, I’d been able to focus without interruption.
Because Indya was running the resort, and she’d hired three kids
who knew how to ride and work.
It was brilliant.
I wished I had done it myself. Not that Dad would ever have hired three kids.
We wouldn’t have had much extra to pay the boys. Plus he’d always balked at the idea of teenagers working at the resort unless they were his
own.
They’ll make too many mistakes.
I don’t have time to babysit.
It’s risky letting young boys around our guests when they might say the wrong thing or get too friendly with daughters.
Dad wasn’t wrong. Those were all valid reasons to keep a staff primarily of adults.
But adults needed babysitting too. Adults made mistakes. And Indya had set firm boundaries. Everyone on her payroll knew that affairs with guests was a line not to be crossed. She’d probably made that inescapably clear with these boys.
A weight floated off my shoulders as I took another look around. A weight I hadn’t even realized was there.
The list on the workbench wouldn’t haunt me every time I set foot in the barn. I didn’t need to worry about mowing the lawn or stacking firewood. There were no emails to answer in the dead of night—I’d gladly relinquished control of the resort inbox to Indya.
“Well, shit.” I’d have to admit she was helping, wouldn’t I?
It was almost five o’clock, and if I wanted, I could just go home.
Stop working.
It was unsettling to have free time.
But I wasn’t just going to go home. There was a woman I needed to see first.
I hadn’t seen Indya since she’d called us here to meet with the boys and tell us about the resort’s new name. For the past two weeks, I’d
made a point of avoiding the lodge at all costs—other than the Saturday campfires, which Indya had skipped. We hadn’t crossed paths.
I’d needed that time to think. Time to work. Time to breathe.
We might not have spoken in two weeks, but she’d plagued my thoughts. Whenever she crossed my mind—more often than I wanted to admit—I’d pull up the resort’s website.
I’d nearly memorized every word on every page.
Haven River Ranch.
She could have given it her name. Keller River Ranch. Keller Mountain Resort. Anything else.
But nowhere on that website, not even on the About Us section, was a mention of her name. Instead, she’d left the story Grandma had written thirty years ago about how the Havens had come to live on this land.
She’d left pictures from decades ago to tell my family’s story, not hers.
Maybe it was all strategic. Our history played well into the allure of ranching. It enticed people to spend thousands of dollars for a week in Montana.
Except my gut screamed there was something else. Something
Indya wasn’t telling me.
Why had she bought this ranch?
Shock and anger and devastation had clouded so much of the past month that I hadn’t asked that question. I’d been too worried about, well . . . me.
But two weeks spent working alone had given me plenty of time to
reflect.
Why was Indya here? For the money?
No. This wasn’t a simple investment, not while she was busting her ass at the lodge each day. Was it for Grant? Or was it because of Blaine?
Was this a postdivorce crisis? She hadn’t told me she was divorced, but I knew Indya well enough to know she wouldn’t climb into my bed if she were tied to another man.
Why? I was ready for answers. And there was only one place to get them.
I’d just stepped out of the barn when a truck door slammed, the sound shifting my attention to the parking lot.
Dad stood, hands on his hips, staring at the lodge.
There were rocking chairs on the porch. Flower planters overflowing with petunias. A hand-carved wooden sign at the base of the porch steps that read WELCOME TO HAVEN RIVER RANCH.
It was all Indya’s doing.
A month ago, I would have hated it. A month ago, I would have glared at those flowers the way Dad glared at the sign.
A month ago, I had still been drowning in resentment and grief.
Acceptance wasn’t so bad.
Dad and I hadn’t spoken since I’d gone to his house weeks ago. He hadn’t shown up to help with the ranch, and as far as I knew, he’d become a recluse. I wasn’t even sure if he’d left home for food. Good thing his freezer was always stocked.
He must have also lost his razor and forgotten where to find the laundry room.
He looked like shit. The white-and-gray stubble on his face was nearly a beard. His jeans were dirty on the knees, and his shirt was rumpled.
There was a twinge in my chest, a pang of worry. No matter what, he was still my father. Even if I wasn’t sure how to forgive him.
I guess Mom and I had that in common. We loved him even when we couldn’t stand him.
Dad sneered at the lodge, then dug out the wad of Copenhagen in his lower lip before tossing it to the ground. When he spotted me, he stood straighter, wiping his mouth. “Oh, uh, hi.”
“Dad.” I stopped by the grill of his truck.
“Heard about all the changes around here. Came to see it for myself.” His jaw flexed. “Haven River Ranch. Generations this has been Crazy Mountain Cattle, and she just renamed it.”
He’d been stewing about that for weeks, hadn’t he?
“I bet your grandparents are in a tizzy over this. They’ll probably
move to town over this.”
I scoffed. “No, they won’t.”
Grandpa went to Big Timber only when Grandma needed a ride to the store. After he’d retired and passed the ranch down to Dad, he’d become a bit reclusive himself. He didn’t mind people, especially when they came to visit him at his house. But he wasn’t as social as he’d once
been. Any amount of traffic caused him stress. Crowds made him irritable. And his favorite pastime was reminiscing about simpler times.
There was no way my grandfather would voluntarily live in town.
Even if he was angry about the changes on the ranch. Even if he was stewing over a new name. Like father, like son.
Maybe I’d done a bit of stewing myself.
“They took the news about the name in stride,” I told Dad. “I delivered it myself. It was a surprise, but not as shocking as other announcements recently, don’t you think?”
Dad’s gaze dropped to the dirt. He couldn’t put all this on Indya when he’d started it in the first place.
“I like the name,” I told him. “A lot.”
“She could have waited a damn year,” he muttered. “Showed some respect.”
“Well, it’s hers, isn’t it?” I didn’t bother hiding the accusation in my tone. If he’d wanted the name to stay the same, he shouldn’t have sold our fucking property. “She gets to do whatever the hell she wants. And personally, I think she showed a lot of respect considering she gave it our name, not her own.”
Dad kicked at a rock. “There was no need to change the name at all.”
“She did what she thought was best. That’s what she’s been doing.
And maybe all these changes were what this place needed. I’m man
enough to admit that. Are you?”
“You’re defending her?”
“Yeah, I guess I am.”
Dad’s lip curled before he marched to his truck, ripped open the door, and jumped inside.
“Stubborn ass.” I was nearly to the lodge when his engine roared to life and his tires peeled out of the lot.
He didn’t get to be angry at me for defending Indya. He didn’t get to be angry, period. This was his fucking fault.
What she was doing here was the right thing. She’d told me a month ago she wasn’t the enemy. Had I listened? No.
It was time to wave the white flag. Stop avoiding her. Stop holding it against her that she’d raced out of my bedroom weeks ago without a backward glance.
The dull murmur of voices and laughter drifted from the dining room when I walked into the lobby.
“Hey, West.” Tara was stationed at the desk.
It was Wednesday. Deb worked on Wednesday.
“Hey, Tara. What’s going on? Where’s Deb?”
“She got fired two hours ago.”
My jaw hit the dirty toe of my boot. “What?”
“Yep. You missed it. Indya called Deb into her office, fired her, and escorted her off the property.” A glint sparked in Tara’s eyes.
Tara thought Deb was lazy and a conniving gossip. She wasn’t wrong.
“Damn.” I couldn’t say I was upset about it. Deb was a huge pain in the ass; I just hadn’t taken the time to replace her.
“I like Indya,” Tara declared.
So do I.
And that was the problem.
“Is she in her office?” I asked.
“No. After the dust settled with Deb, she went home. I told her I’d cover the desk so she could take a night off.”
“Wait. Indya’s been covering the desk? What happened to Marie?”
Tara laughed. “You’ve been under a rock, West.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Marie quit last week.”
“What? Why?”
“There was some teenage drama with Marie and Gunner’s new girlfriend, Hannah. Gunner told me that Hannah was looking for a job, so she came out and interviewed for a housekeeper position. I hired her, then came to find out that Marie hates Hannah. Marie went to Indya to have Hannah fired, and Indya told her no. That’s when Marie quit.”
“Huh,” I muttered, rubbing a hand over my jaw.
So Indya had told Marie no, knowing that it meant we’d lose an evening desk clerk and that she’d have to cover it herself.
All so Tara would have a housekeeper. Gunner would be around to mow, organize the barn, help with the horses, and whatever else I needed for the ranch. And Grandma was finally enjoying retirement and not getting called in to cover the desk at random.
How the hell had I missed all this?
Because I’d been in a swather, blissfully cutting hay while Indya had been dealing with all the resort bullshit that I absolutely loathed.
Another thing I was going to have to admit.
She was better at running this place than I’d ever be.
Mostly because she had the time. But also because the resort had never been my priority. I didn’t love it enough to put it first.
“You look like your head is about to explode,” Tara teased.
“It might.”
“A lot is changing.”
I nodded. “It is.”
“Not all change is bad.”
No, it wasn’t. “Thanks, Tara. Have a good night.”
“You too.”
Every time I came into the lodge these days, it felt like I left with whiplash. The same was true when I went to Beartooth. A part of me wanted to go home and relax. Take a hot shower and have that beer with Jax when he came over.
But I didn’t go to my truck. I followed the path to Indya’s cabin, then took the porch stairs two at a time to knock on her door.
She answered wearing a baggy T-shirt and a pair of skintight shorts that barely covered her ass. That wild mess of curls was piled on top of her head. Her phone was pressed between her shoulder and ear. In one hand she carried a glass of red wine with no more than a swallow left in the bottom.
“I’ll talk to you later. Love you, too, Mom.” She ended the call and took the phone from her ear. Then she downed the rest of that wine, shifting out of the way so I could step inside.
The moment I crossed the threshold, I realized my mistake.
Sweet rose perfume filled my nose. That scent was tied to countless memories. A kiss in my old truck. An evening leading a horse through a meadow before taking Indya’s virginity. A night in my bed two weeks ago that I couldn’t stop replaying on repeat.
“Wine?” Indya held up her empty glass.
I shook my head. “No, thanks.”
“Do you like wine?”
“Sometimes. I prefer whiskey.”
“We’ve never had a drink together,” she murmured, walking to the kitchen.
No, we’d never had a drink together. She didn’t know that my favorite whiskey was Pendleton. I didn’t know if she drank only red wine or if she also liked white. I didn’t know what she liked in her morning coffee, if she even liked coffee.
The not knowing festered. It had been festering since the night she’d answered her door wearing that blue negligee.
I opened my mouth, about to ask about the wine and the coffee and any other detail that came to mind, when she reached into a cabinet, rising up on her toes, to fetch a new bottle of wine.
The hem of her T-shirt rode up her body, showing more of those second-skin shorts.
Fuck. To hell with my questions. I needed out of this cabin.
“Guess you heard I fired Deb today.” Indya uncorked the bottle, then refilled her glass. The liquid glugged, and as it sloshed toward the
rim, a plop landed on the counter.
“Yeah. Tara told me.”
“I’m not hiring her back.”
“I didn’t ask you to hire her back.”
She fumbled the cork as she tried to stuff it back in the bottle.
“Are you drunk?”
“A little.”
I’d never seen her drunk on anything but me.
The circles beneath her eyes seemed darker than they had weeks
ago. Was she sleeping? “You okay?”
She shrugged.
I’d been getting those shrugs my whole damn life. They meant no, she wasn’t okay.
Indya took her wine to the dining room table, where there were seven neat columns of cards on the surface.
Solitaire. The world’s loneliest game.
She’d been here for a month, alone in this cabin. Her family and friends were on the other side of the country. But she chose to stay.
Why?
The last time Indya had left Montana, I’d been certain, down to my bones, that it was the last time I’d see her beautiful face. That night, I’d
memorized every line while she’d slept. I’d traced every curve with my
finger.
Yet here she was.
Why? Why had she come back?
I joined her at the table, the legs of my chair sliding across the floor as I took a seat. Only the table’s corner and those cards separated us.
“I don’t have the energy for a fight tonight, West.” She set her glass aside and placed a two of spades beneath a three of hearts.
“I’m not here to fight.”
Her golden gaze flicked to mine before returning to the cards.
I leaned back in my chair, kicking an ankle up over my knee. Then I watched her play solitaire, biting my tongue when she missed a move.
“Where’s your husband?”
“Not in Montana. Part of its appeal.” She took a sip of wine, then set the glass down to move a stack of four cards. “And he’s my ex- husband.”
Thank fuck. She deserved better than Blaine.
“What happened?”
A shrug. I hated those damn shrugs.
“Why are you here, Indy? You could have hired someone to run this resort. Instead, you’re doing it yourself. Why?”
Her hands stopped moving as she kept her eyes locked on the cards spread between us. “For Dad.”
She’d cover the desk in the evenings. She’d oversee the cabin
remodels. She’d fire shitty employees.
For Grant.
I wanted to tell her to live her own life. To stop doing everything with her father in mind. But how many years had I done the same?
She’d do anything for Grant Keller.
I couldn’t fault her for that.
With a sweep of my hand, I pushed her cards into a pile and
destroyed her solitaire game.
“West.” She scowled. “Do you mind?”
“Still remember how to play poker?”
“Yes, but I’m not playing poker tonight.”
“Afraid you’ll lose?”
She rolled her eyes. “Maybe I just don’t want to play.”
I chuckled, taking the cards and knocking them against the table to build a stack.
“We don’t have any toothpicks to use for betting,” she said.
“So? We’ll play one hand. Five cards each. One draw. Best hand
wins a truth.”
“A truth?”
“A truth.” I nodded. “If I win, you have to tell me what happened with Blaine.”
She took a sip of wine, studying me from over the rim. “And if I win, you have to tell me why you bought that land and expanded the ranch.”
Goddamn this woman. She knew right where to shove her knives.
“Fine.” I shuffled the deck, let her cut, and then dealt out five cards
each.
She took three.
I swapped two.
“One pair.” I laid down my aces with a grin.
She blew out a long breath and tossed her cards onto the table, face
up.
A pair of queens.
And a pair of fours.
“Fuck.”
“You lose.” She giggled. “I’ll take my truth, please.”
“You’ll get it. But not tonight.” Not when I wasn’t ready to explain.
An adorable crease formed between her eyebrows. Her pink mouth turned down in a frown.
She looked so much prettier when she was smiling.
So I leaned across the table, sending the cards scattering.
And kissed that frown off her face.
