Chapter 7
WEST
A staff meeting.
Indya had organized a fucking staff meeting yesterday.
With our employees.
Her employees.
Curiosity was a real motherfucker. Had they reacted well to her announcement? Was the staff glad someone else was in charge? Or had they rioted against her? Had anyone walked out?
At this point, I wasn’t sure which outcome I was rooting for. A good staff meeting. Or a bad.
While Indya had been conducting that meeting, I’d spent my afternoon and evening on a long, hard ride. It should have cleared my head. It should have calmed my frustration.
Instead, I’d spent those hours dwelling on the missteps, analyzing the mistakes. Those missteps and mistakes had kept me up most of the night, too, until finally, I’d crawled out of bed and brewed a pot of coffee.
Steam swirled from my mug as I sat on the steps outside my house, taking in the dawn. The air was cold against my skin and smelled of earth and pine. The grass glimmered with dew. Cattle bellowed in the distance.
It had been a while since I’d spent a morning just . . . sitting.
Usually I worked at a breakneck pace from sunrise to sunset. Was that the problem? I hadn’t spent enough time thinking? Reflecting?
I wished I had done things differently. I wished I had pushed harder on Dad. Fought harder. If I had known that our mistakes would line up like dominoes, waiting for one tiny push for it all to collapse, well . . .
Damn, what I wouldn’t give to go back. To do things differently. To make a single other choice that would have taken us on another path.
Maybe if I had never spoken to Indya Keller, she wouldn’t be holding staff meetings.
No matter how hard I tried, it was impossible to regret my time with Indya.
Was she awake? Was she in the office already? Would she be
waiting for me at eight o’clock?
We both knew I wasn’t going to show.
She could have that office. The desk was too short, and I was constantly knocking my knees against the edge. And the chair Courtney had bought me as a Christmas present years ago was uncomfortable as fuck.
Indya had taken that chair. The office. She’d taken it all.
Dad had played his part. We hadn’t spoken since the day Indya had arrived. There was nothing to say. He’d gone behind my back to sell the ranch, and at the moment, I wasn’t sure I’d ever forgive him for it.
What were the stages of grief? Denial. Yep. Anger, definitely.
Bargaining—maybe I needed to revisit that one and start begging Indya to reconsider selling it back. Depression, not yet.
Acceptance? Never.
Even if she took over the ranch and resort. Even if she forced me from my home. I would never accept Indya as the owner of Haven land.
The crunch of gravel pulled my gaze to the road as Mom’s white SUV crested the hill and rolled down my driveway. I shoved to my feet and set my coffee aside.
Mom waved from behind the wheel, a smile stretching across her face. Not a chance she’d be smiling if she knew about the sale.
Maybe I should have called her last night, but this was Dad’s mess.
I’d given him a couple of days to tell her himself. He should be the one to bear the brunt of her disappointment.
Except he’d stayed quiet, hadn’t he? He was saving himself another painful conversation. Either because he knew I’d do it eventually, or he figured she’d hear about it through the rumor mill.
Most of our employees lived in Big Timber. If Mom hadn’t heard yet, it was just a matter of time. Gossip traveled faster than a shooting star in our small town.
Coward. My father was a goddamn coward. How was I supposed to respect him now?
Mom deserved to hear the truth from Dad. But she’d get to hear it from me. Fuck.
I opened her door as soon as the car was parked. “Morning.”
“Hi.” She climbed out and offered her cheek for a quick kiss.
“Want coffee?”
“No. I’m going home and going to bed.” Mom was dressed in teal scrubs, her dark hair pulled into a tight knot. She worked as a nurse at the hospital in Big Timber and, a year ago, had taken over the night shift in the emergency room.
It wasn’t what I wanted for my mother, sitting alone in the dead of night. But the shift paid more per hour, and she was determined to save a stash for an early retirement.
“You’re up early.” She covered a yawn with the back of her hand, then bent to grab a stack of mail bound by a rubber band from the car.
“I’ve been meaning to drop this off. For your father.”
Dad’s house was half a mile past mine. She could be there in a minute. But it wasn’t the first time I’d deliver his mail because she refused to go to that house. For years, I’d been playing the go-between for my parents.
If I were as good at managing a resort as I was at keeping my parents out of each other’s sight, maybe my family would still own the ground beneath my feet.
“I could have picked it up the next time I was in town.” I took the bundle and tucked it under an arm.
She shrugged. “It gave me an excuse to come see you.”
“Glad you did.” I threw an arm around her shoulders, hauling her into my side. “Need to talk to you about something important.”
“You’re getting married and giving me grandbabies.”
“No.” I chuckled. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“A mother can dream.” She looped her arm around my back as we walked toward the house. “What’s up?”
It took an effort to form the words and force them off my tongue.
Telling her felt a lot like admitting defeat. But I’d be a shithead of a son if I let her leave without an explanation.
“Dad sold the ranch.” Whoosh. Out it came.
The bandage ripped free, and the wound started gushing again.
Mom’s footsteps faltered. “W-what?”
I let her go and faced her. “Dad sold the ranch. To Indya Keller.”
The color drained from her face. Her hazel eyes blew wide as her jaw dropped.
There was probably a gentler way to break the news. Indya had probably given an eloquent speech at yesterday’s staff meeting. But I wasn’t an elegant man, and this truth was brutal.
Luckily, Mom was a strong woman. She could handle blunt.
“He didn’t.” The shock in her gaze shifted to fury.
“He did.” I nodded. “We’re broke.”
She swayed a bit, and I held her again until she was steady. It didn’t take long for her to recover. Then she stepped away and planted her fists on her hips. “You never told me you were having financial problems.”
“I didn’t realize how bad it was. You know Dad.”
These were his problems. This was his business. Was it pride that made him so secretive? Or shame?
“Not good enough, West.” Her glare was lethal. “You should have known.”
Yes, I should have. She was right to be angry. She was right to put some blame on me.
Without Dad around to catch her wrath, I was going to receive that first wave. But I had a hunch he’d get the rest. It had been five years since my mother had spoken to my father. For this, she might break her streak.
This might be the final slice that severed their relationship for good.
And I’d just handed her a knife.
“I can’t believe this.” She blinked rapidly, shaking her head. Mom loved this ranch. It might not be her home anymore, and she might have lived in town for years, but her heart would always be tethered to Haven
land. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” This was real.
“West.” The crack in her voice was like a punch in the gut. “He sold it? Why?”
As pissed as I was at my father, I didn’t like throwing him under the bus like this, not while he wasn’t here to defend himself. “I think you’d better talk to Dad.”
“West Robert Haven. I’m not going to that house.”
The last time she’d scolded me with my full name, I’d still been in high school. “Please, Mom. Go talk to Dad.”
Her mouth pursed in a thin line. “No.”
She hadn’t set foot there since the day she’d moved out when I was eleven.
It was a curse, loving someone the way my parents loved each other. Mom might never forgive Dad for his drunken affair, but she hadn’t stopped loving him either.
They were divorced. They had separate lives. But she loved him all the same.
They used to be on speaking terms. But five years ago, Mom and Jax had gotten into a huge blowup. Jax had stopped talking to Mom.
Mom had stopped talking to Dad.
He’d taken Jax’s side in the argument.
It burned to admit he was right.
Still, Mom punished Dad with her silence. And Dad punished himself with solitude.
“Are you going to talk to him?” I asked Mom.
She dropped her gaze to the dirt. “I don’t know. It’s not really my business anymore, is it?”
Mom had never owned the ranch. When my grandparents had passed it down to Dad, it had always been his. But Dad had never acted like her opinion didn’t matter. She was the only person who stood a chance at giving him input. Hell, he didn’t even listen to Grandpa these days.
But after the divorce, Dad had withdrawn from us. All of us. I doubted even Mom could get through his thick skull these days.
“You need to fix this, West. Fix it.”
She might not be talking to Jax, but damn if they didn’t sound alike.
“I would if I knew how.”
“Figure it out.” Mom retreated to her car and yanked the door open.
Then she shot me a warning look.
Fix it.
Without a wave or goodbye, she turned her car around and headed down the road. The road that would take her off the ranch, not to Dad’s.
I blew out a long breath, waiting until her car vanished from sight, then trudged inside, Dad’s mail still tucked under my arm.
Fix it. How the hell did I fix it?
Indya. She was the only way out of this clusterfuck.
Which meant it was time for more bargaining.
The parking lot at the lodge was packed.
If all the license plates had been from out of state, I would have been elated to see so many guests. It had been a few years since we’d been booked to capacity.
But the cars were all from Montana. Every number started with forty, meaning they were all from Sweet Grass County, and most of the
rigs I recognized from the staff.
Another meeting?
If so, this was absolutely the last place I wanted to be. But I slammed the door to my truck and headed inside, the pit of dread in my gut doubling as I opened the door.
It smelled . . . different. It smelled good. Clean, like floor polish and apples. It was brighter too. The bulbs that had burned out on the chandelier had been changed, their replacements glowing white.
The scents of syrup and coffee and bacon drifted from the open dining room doors. The clatter of silverware on plates mingled with the murmur of conversation.
“Morning, West.” Deb smiled from behind the desk.
“Morning,” I drawled, checking the time.
Eight fifteen. She was here at the start of her shift. And at the desk.
When was the last time I’d come into the lodge and she was where she
was supposed to be?
“What’s going on?”
“Um, a lot.” She blew out a deep breath, her cheeks puffing. She blinked too fast, like she was fighting tears. So help me, if Indya was upsetting the crew, I’d haul her ass off this ranch whether she owned it or not. “Why didn’t you tell us you sold the ranch?”
It wasn’t Indya making her cry. It was me. Shit.
“I’m sorry. It, uh, happened quickly.”
Another instance when Dad should be here in my place. When he should be dealing with the fallout from his decision.
Whatever. I’d told Mom. I’d handle the staff. But not a chance in hell was I telling my grandparents. That, he’d have to do himself.
Tara came from the hallway carrying a caddy of cleaning supplies.
Her round cheeks were flushed, and her auburn hair was pulled into a knot. She was smiling—Tara was always smiling. But it dropped the moment she spotted me at the desk. A snarl curled her lips.
Today was the day that all the women in my life were going to be
pissed at me, wasn’t it?
I held up a hand. “I’m sorry.”
“That you sold the ranch and didn’t have the balls to tell us?” She
huffed. “You should be sorry.”
“I am.”
“Did you tell your mother?”
I nodded. “This morning.”
“Then I’d better give her a call.” Tara breezed past me, heading for the stairs.
She was Mom’s best friend. Tara had always been more of an aunt than an employee. She’d started working here when I was a kid, and even though she loathed Dad for breaking Mom’s heart, she’d stuck it out at the resort as head housekeeper, even after Mom had moved away.
In part, I thought Tara had stayed to act as Mom’s eyes and ears. To be here for me and Jax on the days when Mom couldn’t.
Tara was the best employee we could have asked for. She worked tirelessly to ensure the rooms were clean. She managed the housekeepers with kindness and fairness. But she was only one woman, and we’d stretched her budget thin. Finding housekeepers who wanted to drive out here each day and work for less than they could get at the hotel in town was basically impossible.
When I was a kid, Mom used to pitch in to clean when we were short staffed. She’d managed the resort and worked the front desk, but if there was work to be done, Lily Haven had been the first to volunteer.
The image of Indya in yellow rubber gloves, hunched over a toilet, scrubbing with fury popped into my mind.
I scoffed. Not a chance she’d get her hands dirty.
“So now what?” Deb asked. “Are you guys, like, leaving?”
“No.” Maybe. I didn’t have a damn clue.
“Okay, good.” She sighed. “It would be so strange here without you.”
Two guests walked out of the dining room, both carrying to-go cups of coffee.
“Morning,” I said, dipping my chin. “How was breakfast?”
The man, a tech guy from Seattle who’d come two years in a row, patted his gut. “Delicious.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Plans for today?” I asked.
“Hiking,” the woman answered. “We’re going up Rustler’s Trail.”
It was one of four hiking trails we had mapped out for guests. “I rode up that way yesterday. It’s beautiful. Have a nice time.”
They went to the stairs, heading for their room on the second floor.
I waited until they were gone before dropping my smile. “What else?” I asked Deb.
She picked up a piece of paper with a list written from top to bottom in unfamiliar handwriting. The first two items were crossed off.
Dust and mop lobby Fix chandelier light bulbs “She gave me this list.” Deb sneered the word she. Apparently, Indya hadn’t won her over yesterday. “And she told me that unless I was using the bathroom or taking a break, I had to be at the desk.”
I snatched the list, scanning the tasks.
Sweep porch
Organize desk Input reservations into software system It went on and on. Somehow, in just days, Indya had identified all the items that Deb should have been doing all along. Duties I should have enforced. Instead, I’d let Deb’s mistakes fly because I didn’t have time to babysit her or spend my days at the lodge.
Hiring desk clerks was just as difficult as hiring housekeepers.
“Do I really have to listen to her?” Deb whined. “Aren’t you still my boss?”
“Yes, you do have to listen.” And as for her second question, I
wasn’t sure. “Is she here?”
“In your office.”
“Thanks.” I handed her back the list. “Lobby looks great. Smells
good too.”
“She threw away my candle.”
“Sorry.” Not sorry. Deb’s candles reeked.
With a nod, I squared my shoulders and left the desk. Not in a million years would I have expected to feel uncomfortable in these halls, but every step was pained. Like my body was screaming at me to turn around. Run away.
Except this conversation was inevitable, so I kept walking.
Indya was behind the desk, wearing earbuds, her eyes locked on her laptop’s screen. Her hair was a wild mess piled on top of her head. She was dressed in a cream T-shirt and jeans.
The casual clothes suited her, more than the slacks and blouses she’d been in for the past two days. The jeans and tee reminded me of the girl she’d been, the tomboy who’d loved soccer and neon green and paper airplanes and five-card draw.
Her gaze was narrowed in concentration. She nibbled on her lower lip. Her face was perfectly symmetrical, centered on the line of her classic nose.
I’d spent more time than I was willing to admit tracing the delicate line of her jaw with my fingers. With my tongue.
God, she was beautiful. Sparkling eyes. Dark, sooty lashes. Soft pink lips. Her beauty rocked me on my heels every damn time.
I leaned against the doorframe, feet firmly outside the threshold.
The movement caught Indya’s attention, and her caramel eyes shifted. Her fingers remained over her keyboard. She didn’t move to withdraw her earbuds.
We just stared at each other, like we were catching up from the years apart.
It had always been like this. No matter how much time had passed, all it would take was a look. The years would fast-forward, shortening, disappearing until we were right back where we’d left off.
Except not this time.
Too much had changed.
She plucked out the headphones, setting them beside her mouse.
“Hi.”
“Sounds like you’re riding herd on my staff.”
“My staff,” she corrected. “They’re my staff.”
It was an effort to keep my mouth shut and not argue. She wasn’t wrong.
“You missed the staff meeting yesterday,” she said.
“You had it covered.”
She waved a hand toward the folding chairs across from the desk.
“Would you like to come in?”
I didn’t move.
“Stubborn,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. “Are you here to glower, or is there a point to this visit? I’m busy.”
Doing the job I’d failed to do. The words went unspoken. Again, she wasn’t wrong.
“Sell me the ranch.” I swallowed hard. “Please.”
“Did you not hear me the other night? I’m not selling it.”
“We’d work out a contract. A payment schedule.”
“Not interested.”
Fucking hell. “Do you always have to be so goddamn difficult?”
“That’s priceless, coming from you.”
“I’m trying to fix this.” I tossed out a hand and crossed that invisible barrier of the doorway.
“There’s nothing to fix, West. It’s done. The sooner you accept it, the sooner we can turn this place around. You know what I’ve been doing since four o’clock this morning? Trying to figure out why every guest is charged a different price. Why two identical double-queen rooms go for two random rates. Care to enlighten me?”
“Dad doesn’t raise prices for repeat customers.”
Indya blinked. “So if someone has been coming here for ten years . . .”
“Then they pay the same rate they did ten years ago.” It wasn’t my decision. Costs had only gone up. But after Mom had left, it was something Dad had been adamant about. And I’d had bigger battles to fight.
Besides, we hadn’t raised prices that much in the past ten years. A bit here and there, but the difference wasn’t outrageous.
“When was the last time you compared your rates to other resorts?
They’re charging two, almost three times your prices.”
“I don’t know, Indya.” I dragged a hand through my hair. “Dad set the prices. He felt like they were fair. When I told him we should bump them up a bit, he told me it wasn’t my decision.”
And I hadn’t pushed. I hadn’t made a strong enough argument to change his mind.
Instead, I’d kept my focus on the ranch. If she wanted to know about the cattle market and current operating costs per head, I could give her numbers for days. But I was half-removed from the resort, leaving Dad in control. Just the way he liked it.
Just the way I liked it.
But if we really were undervalued by that much, why weren’t we overrun with guests? Probably because we were falling apart.
We’d marked two cabins as unavailable because they needed some major overhaul. Flooring. Roofs. Furniture. None of us had the time to do construction. And we hadn’t had the extra cash either.
Balancing on a tight budget was a double-edged sword. Yeah, we could have rented out refurbished cabins. But it would take years to recuperate the costs and turn it into a profit. So we’d decided to just shut them down.
Given the flat look on Indya’s face, she would have made different decisions. “Would you come inside and sit down? You’re making it
weird by standing in the hallway.”
I stayed put.
“Fine.” Her nostrils flared. “I’m taking over all operations for the resort. Effective immediately, every decision must be run past me. If an employee comes to you with a question, I’d appreciate it if you’d send them my way.”
“They’re used to asking me or Dad. You’re not going to change habits overnight.”
“All I’m asking is that you send them to me.”
“Look, we might not have done everything perfectly, but we have been running this place for decades. I’m not going to—”
“Stop.” She sliced a hand through the air, cutting me off. This was a different look for her, bold and in charge. It was sexy. Not that I’d admit that, to her or myself. “Stop fighting me.”
“Then stop trying to run my business.”
Her expression gentled, and before she spoke, I knew what she was going to say. “It’s not yours. Not anymore.”
No, it wasn’t, was it? How long would it take for the reality of this to sink in? More than a couple of days, apparently.
What was happening? What were we going to do?
“What about our homes?” What about the house where Grandma and Grandpa had planned to spend their final years? What about my childhood home?
“I didn’t take them,” she said. “You left before your dad could get into the specifics, but you all have your homes and twenty acres around them.”
Thank fuck. The relief was crippling. “At least Dad did something right.”
She dropped her gaze to the desk. “I’d like you to stay and manage
the ranch.”
“Stay.”
“I don’t know anything about cattle.”
I scoffed. “No shit.”
“You’d be paid a salary. I’d leave the decisions to your discretion.”
A job offer. She was making me a job offer. I opened my mouth, about to tell her to shove it, when she held up a hand.
“Don’t tell me to shove it.”
This woman. She’d always been good at reading me.
“Think about it. Please.”
“Fine,” I muttered. “What about the resort? Will you hire a manager too?”
“No. I’m staying. I’ll manage it myself.”
She was staying. I wished I didn’t like the sound of that. “What about your life? Don’t you need to get back to it? To your husband?”
It was a dig, but damn it, I wanted to know what had happened with Blaine. Why she wasn’t wearing that monstrosity of a diamond ring.
Indya glanced to the window, giving the slightest headshake. “No. I don’t have anywhere else to be. And as far as a job, this is it for the foreseeable future. I’m not here on vacation. This isn’t a hobby or a phase. I’m moving here. The rest of my things arrive in two days.”
Moving to Montana. Once upon a time, that would have been a dream. Now, I wasn’t so sure.
“And where exactly are you going to be living?”
Big Timber. Please, say Big Timber. It would be so much easier if she was sleeping thirty miles away.
“Beartooth Chalet. There are only two reservations for the rest of the summer. I’ve made arrangements for those to be moved, so the chalet is mine.”
Beartooth Chalet. My molars ground so hard they nearly cracked.
Was this a joke? Was she trying to torture me?
“It’s the nicest property on the ranch,” I told her. “It should be for guests.”
Indya stayed quiet, her gaze locked on mine in a silent dare for me to forbid it. We both knew it wasn’t my decision. And she’d just played her cards. If I wanted to run the ranch, I’d have to butt out of resort affairs.
Sure, I could leave. I could find another job somewhere else.
We both knew I wasn’t going anywhere.
Trapped. I was fucking trapped in whatever game she was playing.
Without a word, I turned and walked away. I breezed past Deb, whose fingers were flying over the keyboard of the front desk’s computer. The moment I was out the door, I sucked in a deep breath to keep my head from spinning.
My gaze shifted to the Beartooth Chalet.
It was the best cabin on the ranch. I’d made sure of it. If there was anything extra, I’d poured it into that building. A new roof. Updated plumbing. Fresh paint. New hardwood flooring.
Most of that work, I’d done myself in the winter when the resort
was slow.
For Indya.
I’d wanted that cabin to be nice in case one day she came back.
I should have saved that money.
And let the Beartooth rot.
