Chapter 8
INDYA
“Vegetarian?” The chef’s eyes bulged. “This is Montana.”
“I’m aware of our location. We need at least one vegetarian option on the menu for every meal.”
Reid scoffed. “I won’t cook vegetarian.”
This man was so freaking difficult. He must have taken lessons from West. Reid should count himself lucky that I wasn’t requiring a vegan option too.
We’d had this argument every day for the past week. I’d asked him to revise the menu, and each afternoon when I came into the kitchen to
check on his progress, he’d tell me no.
I was done debating.
“Either you add a vegetarian option, or you won’t cook at all. This is nonnegotiable. Unless the reason you’re dragging your feet is because you’re unable to come up with meatless recipes.” It was a baited statement.
He took it without a blink. “I can cook anything.”
“Great. Then tomorrow, I expect to see the updated menu.” And if he wouldn’t cooperate, then he’d be replaced. I didn’t have a clue how to feed the guests, but somehow, I’d figure it out. If I had to beg Mom’s personal chef to spend a summer in Montana, so be it.
Reid huffed and threw a mixing bowl in the sink, the metal clanking against the other dishes.
I took that as my cue to leave. Not bothering with a goodbye, I slipped through the swinging door that led to the dining room.
There was still an hour before dinner, but the waitstaff bustled around the room, setting places and prepping for guests. The bartender,
Lisa, was behind the bar in the corner, setting up her station.
She stilled when she spotted me and sent a scowl sailing across the room.
I didn’t have the energy for her today. She hated me because . . . well, I wasn’t exactly sure why. Lisa and I’d had a single conversation, in which I’d told her I’d like to bring in some different wines. She’d sneered and told me their current selection was fine.
If fine meant cheap and bitter.
Her hatred probably wasn’t about the wine. I was fairly certain Reid was turning everyone against me, the mutinous traitor, and she’d sided with her boss.
Apparently it didn’t matter that I was her boss’s boss.
The lines of loyalty had been drawn long before I’d returned to Montana, and my side of that line was severely outnumbered. But I kept trying. I’d keep trying.
There was a job to do. Dad always said that running a business was a lonely job. You didn’t get the luxury of friends when you were the captain of the ship.
So I’d endure the scowls and glares and sneers.
I’d survive it all until this year was over.
I walked over to a waiter setting out water goblets. “Hey, Ron.”
“Uh, hey, Miss Keller.” Ron was young, in his early twenties, and always had a deer-in-the-headlights look when I spoke to him.
“You can call me Indya,” I corrected.
“’Kay.” He nodded, his mop of blond hair falling into his eyes.
“Would you mind bringing a dinner to the Beartooth Chalet tonight instead of my office?” If I was going to eat alone, tonight I was going to
do so in my pajamas.
“What would you like?” he asked.
“Whatever the special is would be great.”
For the past week, I’d ordered Reid’s special every night to get a feel for his cooking. He was a good chef. His dishes had flavor and character. But there wasn’t much variety. Every special this week had been beef and potatoes. There was a single chicken option on the menu,
no fish, and no vegetarian.
“What time?” Ron asked.
“Just bring it over whenever you have a moment. Don’t prioritize it
over serving the guests.”
“All right.”
“Thanks.” I gave him a smile that went unreturned, then headed for the lobby, only making it two steps before Deb’s voice drifted into the
dining room.
“She’s such a bitch.”
Nice. There was no doubt she was referring to me.
“Sorry, babe,” her boyfriend said.
What was his name? Didn’t it start with a C? Allegedly, he was an employee. But he hadn’t shown up at the staff meeting or subsequently come to find me to complete his employee paperwork.
So as of now, he wasn’t on the payroll. And if he ever bothered to approach me about his job, I wouldn’t be extending an offer.
Over the past week, I’d rehired every person on staff, so they worked for my corporation. There were people who may or may not work out, like Reid, but I hadn’t let anyone go.
Deb’s boyfriend would be the exception.
And unless Deb’s attitude changed, she was going to be the first person I fired. The six-month probationary period I’d instituted for all employees was going to be my saving grace.
I squared my shoulders and emerged from the dining room.
Deb at least had the decency to look guilty as she smiled too widely.
“Oh, hey, Indya.”
“Hi.” I shifted my attention to the boyfriend, extending a hand.
“Indya Keller.”
He jerked up his chin as we shook. “Casey Lawrence.”
“Nice to meet you.”
When I glanced to Deb, she was noticeably paler. “We were just
talking about, um, Tara.”
She was a horrible liar.
“Ah.” It was on the tip of my tongue to reprimand her for doing that at the desk, where any guest could overhear, but tonight, I didn’t have the energy. She knew she’d been busted, and she’d get away with calling me a bitch. For now. “Good night.”
“See you in the morning.” Deb’s voice was too bright, especially considering I’d declined her request for a two-week vacation. Probably
why she was calling me a bitch.
That, or because I made her work.
That girl didn’t want to do anything. I’d been hounding her all week to finish the list I’d given her last week. But beyond cleaning the lobby, changing a few light bulbs, and updating the reservation system, she’d done next to nothing else. For a week.
I had help wanted ads in the local paper and online, but they’d only gone up yesterday. For now, Deb was better than the alternative—me. I didn’t have time to sit at the desk all day.
The weight on my shoulders felt heavier than it had this morning.
Heavier than it had yesterday or the day before that or the day before that. It was so heavy that picking up my feet was difficult. I shuffled more than walked from the lodge to the Beartooth.
The moment I walked through the chalet’s door, I went straight for the bottle of wine I’d opened last night and poured myself a glass.
Coffee would be the smarter choice. There was still a pile of work to plow through before the end of my day, and the sun was already dipping toward the mountain horizon beyond the cabin’s windows.
Never in my life had I been this tired. Never in my life had I worked this hard. My entire body ached. At one point this afternoon, before I’d caught a second—or maybe it had been the third—wind, I’d struggled to keep my eyes open. Whatever pace was faster than frantic, that’s where my dial was set.
A year. I just had to endure this for a year. Maybe less, if everything went according to plan.
My attorneys had advised me to keep my long-term plans private.
To the world, I was in Montana to stay. Indefinitely.
Only a handful of people knew that in a year, I’d be gone. To where, I had no clue. But gone from Montana.
In the meantime, I’d learn to live with the exhaustion and anxiety.
Maybe I’d feel better if West decided to take the job I’d offered.
He had to stay. He couldn’t leave. Somehow, I had to convince him to run the ranch and stay.
Which would be easier if he weren’t avoiding me. I hadn’t seen him once this past week—not that I’d gone searching.
I was giving him time to let this new reality sink in. And meanwhile, I was working myself to the bone.
For the past week, I’d worked nonstop to learn every aspect of the resort’s operation. From the finances to marketing to housekeeping to guest services, I’d crammed my brain so full of information it was about to explode.
I’d earned every sore muscle and weary ache in my bones.
On Monday, I’d shadowed Deb at the reservation desk. That was probably when she’d decided I was a bitch, because each time I’d asked her to explain in detail her process, she’d get annoyed.
Tuesday, I’d spent a day cleaning rooms with Tara and doing laundry. Of all the employees, she seemed the most receptive, though maybe that was just wishful thinking. But she had seemed surprised when I’d volunteered to scrub the toilets.
Wednesday, I’d stood in the corner of the kitchen, watching the chef and waitstaff prepare and serve the evening meal. The corner had been the safest place, far from the knives. When I’d told the chef he had to come up with a vegetarian menu, he’d told me he hated me.
Yesterday, I’d gone on a trail ride with Wyatt. He’d been a guide here when I was a kid—not that he remembered me. But it had been comforting to see a familiar face. Wyatt was our only guide at the moment. Jax was normally on the rotation, but he hadn’t taken a group since before I’d come to Montana.
I owed him a phone call. I owed him a job offer. But as with West, I was giving Jax time.
Next week, I’d seek them out. Until then, I was focused on my own to-do list. Any hour not tagging along with a staff member, I’d been in the office, poring over plans and budgets.
I’d already hired a contractor out of Big Timber to renovate three cabins. He’d told me his schedule was packed for the summer, and I’d have to wait until next spring. Then I’d written him a check, paying three
times the current market rates.
He’d started work this morning.
With any luck, we’d have the cabins back in the reservation rotation before the end of the month. Which was critical, considering I’d taken over the Beartooth.
It was selfish, staying in the nicest cabin. But this chalet was mine.
If I was going to stay on the ranch and turn the resort into a profitable business, then this would be my home.
Even if that meant facing old memories.
At least it wasn’t exactly the same. The other cabins might have fallen into disrepair, but someone had taken care with the Beartooth.
The cabin’s old couch had been replaced with a new piece. The rich brown leather was supple and soft. Studded with brass fittings, the style fit the rustic decor.
Dad would hate that new couch. It would be too firm for his afternoon naps.
He’d like the other changes, though. The stainless steel refrigerator was new. The black faucet fixtures added a modern touch with clean lines. And the white oak herringbone floors were a dream.
Had West been the mastermind behind these changes? Did he ever think about this cabin? Did he ever think about us?
I did.
Every day. Every hour.
It was beautiful torture. Torment I had to endure for only a year.
Then I could leave Montana, for good this time.
I carried my wineglass to the living room window, staring out to the meadows and mountains. Then I pulled my phone from my jeans pocket, about to call and check in with Dad when a knock came at the door.
Dinner. Bless you, Ron. It was earlier than I’d expected, but I was starving.
The few groceries I’d bought on last weekend’s trip to town had dwindled. Another run to the store was on tomorrow’s list.
My stomach growled as I rushed across the room. Except it wasn’t
Ron on my porch.
It was West.
“Hi.” I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. The last time I’d looked in the mirror was hours ago, and I was probably a mess. The little bit of makeup I’d put on at dawn, enough that I wouldn’t look like a corpse, had long since worn away.
“Hey.” He dipped his chin, the brim of his black cowboy hat tilting.
How did he do that, look better and better each time I saw him? The ends of his hair were damp, not from a shower but from sweat. His gray pearl-snap shirt was rumpled from a day of work and wear, its sleeves rolled up his forearms. The collar was undone a couple of buttons, revealing a hint of dark hair that dusted his chest. There was a sheen of
sweat on his face, and he smelled like horses and wind and masculine spice.
He’d worked all day, hadn’t he? Of course he’d keep working. That was the type of man he was. The type who would do it for the land, for the animals, for his family’s legacy, whether he was being paid or not.
For me, the physical labor was a new experience. For West, this was life.
It wasn’t fair that he’d pushed so hard. That in the end, his hard
work hadn’t mattered.
Curtis had sold the ranch anyway.
I set my wineglass on the table beside the door, then waited. West would speak when he was ready.
It took nearly two minutes. I counted the seconds as they passed.
“I don’t know if I can work for you.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed and reached for his back pocket, then took out a fold of white papers. “But I’ll try.”
I took the papers and opened them to see the employee code of conduct I’d printed for each employee to complete.
West’s name was signed at the bottom.
My heart splattered on the pretty herringbone floors. My hand trembled with the urge to crumple the pages into a ball and toss them in the trash.
This wasn’t right. This wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t have signed this paper.
West stared past the porch and into the distance. He looked tired.
Humiliated. He’d come here to deliver this paperwork so he wouldn’t have to bring it to the lodge.
The papers in my grip felt slimy. A wash of shame rolled over my shoulders. This was wrong. This was all wrong.
I was here to do the right thing.
Except it was all wrong.
I was doing it wrong.
Dad would have handled this better. He would have known what to say.
Why had I made West a job offer? Why had I phrased it like that? I had no intention of treating West like the other employees. This was his land, regardless of if my name was on the title or not.
But my name was on the title.
And I’d made it a point to remind West of that fact, hadn’t I? He’d made me mad last week, so I’d tossed his family’s failure in his face.
But he was staying. I’d needed him to stay. And he was staying.
“We’ll work out the details later, yeah?” He took a step away.
I tore my gaze from the paper. “Wait.”
He waited.
“Why?”
West sighed, his shoulders falling. “Because you need help.”
Yes. Yes, I did.
“This is my home. If the only way I get to stay is through this”—he waved a hand to the page in mine—“then this is what we’ll do.”
His voice dripped with disdain.
West would hate me before that year was over, wouldn’t he?
I’d been irritating West since we were kids. Since the days his father had insisted he entertain me on our vacations to Montana. As I’d grown older, I’d learned to enjoy pushing his buttons. I’d liked leaving a lasting impression so that when those trips were over, I wasn’t immediately forgotten.
But the thought of him truly hating me made my insides churn.
The bridge between us was crumbling. I wouldn’t—couldn’t—let it fall.
“Your staff respects you. They value your input. They look to you as the leader here.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “So?”
“I’m not making many friends.” I shrugged. “Not that I’m here to make friends. I’m fairly certain Deb is plotting my murder. Reid will likely poison my next meal. But I’m trying to help. I’m pushing them to make some changes, and they don’t like it. It would go a long way if
they knew you supported me.”
He arched an eyebrow.
“If you pretended to support me.”
A blink. That was all he gave me. Stubborn, stubborn man.
“You said you want to fix this.”
He nodded. “I do.”
“West,” I whispered. God, he was going to hate this. It had to be said. And he’d hate it. He’d hate me for it. “You can’t fix it. But I can.”
A flash of rage crossed his face. Those hazel eyes blazed. His arms dropped to his sides, and he spun around, then stomped down the stairs.
“West, please.” I chased after him, stopping on the last stair as he
whirled around. It put us eye to eye.
“What, Indya? Just let me go.”
Never. No matter how hard I tried, I could never let him go.
And damn it, my life would be so much easier if I could just watch him walk away.
“There are things to say,” I said. “Things I’ve put off too long.”
“Not tonight. I’m taking your job. I’m filling out your forms. I’m swallowing my pride. But I’ve hit the limit for today.”
“Please,” I whispered.
It wasn’t the first time I’d said please from this very spot.
Like the memory slapped him in the face, he winced.
But he didn’t go.
“I’m on your side, believe it or not.”
“I don’t.” He scoffed. “If you were on my side, you would have come to me before buying this place out from under my feet.”
“You’re putting all the blame on me? What about your dad? He sold it.”
“I’m aware he sold it.” West tossed a hand to the side. “I’m very fucking aware. But you could have come to me, Indya. After all we’ve been through, you should have come to me first.”
No, I couldn’t have gone to him first.
The sale was inevitable. Even if West had been able to squash the sale, if he had convinced Curtis to back out of the deal, it wouldn’t have changed anything. Within a year, they would have been in over their heads with the bank. Foreclosure would have been next. And there was no way they would have been able to fend off the sharks.
“I’m sorry.” For the betrayal. For the pain this was causing.
He pulled off his hat and dragged a hand through his hair. “What do you want from me?”
Everything. The answer to that question used to be everything.
Now, I just wanted him not to hate me.
When I didn’t answer, he stared.
I stared back. I stared because I knew how fleeting it was to see his face. How much I missed it when he was gone.
Collisions on crossroads.
West and I were nothing but collisions on crossroads.
Sooner or later, our paths would drift apart again. We never seemed to be going in the same direction, and this time was no different.
He’d stay because he belonged.
I’d leave because I didn’t.
West broke away first, dropping his gaze. Then he turned and, without another word, walked across the flagstone path around the chalet until he was out of sight.
I retreated inside, fetching my wineglass to sip my cabernet. Then I stood at the living room window, watching as the sun dipped below the jagged mountain edge. When the sky was a riot of pink and purple and gold, I took out my phone, then pulled up Dad’s name. It went straight to his voice mail.
“Hey, Daddy.” Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe I was just being emotional. But the sting of tears made me glad I only had to leave a quick message. Then I could go cry into my pillow. “You’re probably watching TV. I hope whatever show you picked is making you laugh.
Just wanted to say I love you. Talk to you later.”
I tucked my phone away and drained my wineglass. Then I balled up West’s code of conduct for the trash and went to bed.
Ron never did show up with my dinner.
