Drew gazed around the Ponderosa while Kristy was in the bathroom. It was only their second time dining in the restaurant. The first had been with Harper. An evening of bowling, then hot fudge sundaes. The place didn’t seem as crowded as usual. Then again, it was late for lunch and early for dinner.
Drew liked the quiet, anyway. In the Bay Area you were hard pressed to find a table at a good restaurant without a reservation, let alone one where the acoustics didn’t make the place sound like a rave. Even though the Ponderosa was the only sit-down restaurant in town, it was fairly decent. Simple food done well, with friendly service.
Before meeting Emily he’d been content to eat frozen dinners and bad takeout. His ex-wife was a cookbook author and a phenomenal chef. Another thing Kristy felt threatened by. These days, it didn’t take much.
When he’d first started seeing her she’d been his rock. The first two years after his daughter’s disappearance had been so bleak that there were days when he didn’t know how he’d go on. Emily had fallen into such deep despair that they barely said two words to each other that didn’t have to do with Hope’s disappearance. They hired private investigators, did media interviews, and followed up on every lead, no matter how preposterous. And at the end of the day, they were so exhausted, so distraught, that there wasn’t any energy left for their marriage. In the third year they divorced, and in one fell swoop, he lost his daughter and his wife, the love of his life.
Then he met Kristy and she made him live again. The pain of losing a child never subsided, but he no longer felt suffocated by grief. He didn’t have to face it every morning by watching Emily, once a vibrant woman, wither away to nothing. With Kristy he laughed, and little by little he healed.
And now their relationship had taken a hit, and he worried that it might not survive.
“Apparently, the place is empty because of the wedding.” Kristy returned to the table and took her seat. She motioned to the street. “It’s at the big Victorian inn…what’s it called again?”
“The Lumber Baron.”
“I heard two women in the restroom talking about it. The reception’s at a farm stand near McCreedy Ranch. That’s different.”
“Sounds interesting…nice.”
“Want to crash?” She was kidding of course, but for a second Drew caught a glimpse of the old Kristy. Just as quickly, her expression drooped, losing its twinkle of mischief.
“Why not? Who would know we weren’t invited?”
“Uh, the bride and groom.”
A waiter came and took their orders. Drew chose a bottle of wine for the table. For a country saloon, it had a rather nice list, including some of their favorite cabernets from the Napa Valley.
“What did the police chief say about your sighting?”
They hadn’t discussed it on the drive over. Kristy had been consumed with a text her paralegal had sent her. And she’d made it perfectly clear she thought he was acting irrationally to have called the police in the first place. The chief hadn’t thought so, though. Either that or he was a good actor.
“He said it was good that I went with my gut.” The wine came and the waiter poured them both a glass. When he left, Drew said, “He took the backpack and the canteen.”
She didn’t say anything, staring off into the distance. “Is Harper staying with us tonight?”
“If they get home from the wedding early enough, Emily said she’d bring her over. Otherwise, tomorrow morning in time for breakfast.”
Kristy absently swirled her wine. “I was thinking of going home tomorrow. This case…it would be better if I worked from the office. I’ll take the Volvo.”
They’d left it in the mountains so they’d have an extra car to drive when they rode up together.
“Seems silly. I’d only be a few hours behind you.” If it was really work, he didn’t want to push. Lord knew he’d spent enough time away from home, pulling all-nighters on a motion or a brief. But work had become a convenient excuse.
“I don’t want you to feel rushed,” she said. “As it is, your time was cut short with Harper this weekend.”
He and Emily had agreed that they wouldn’t be draconian about the schedule. It was more important that Harper settled in here, made friends, and engaged in social activities. The transition had been hard enough. She’d had a whole world in Idaho. Despite what those monsters had done, they’d given Harper a wonderful life. In Morton, she’d been involved in clubs and activities and had dozens of friends. Uprooting a child in normal circumstances was difficult enough, but the transition continued to be a maze of complications.
“Harper and I could go somewhere so you’d have the house to yourself to work. That way we could at least make the four-hour drive together.” He tried to take her hand but she quickly reached for her wineglass.
Their food came before she could respond, and Drew saw her working up a good excuse in her head.
“I know this is difficult, Kristy. I want you to know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done—the house here, the driving back and forth, dealing with a very confused thirteen-year-old—to accommodate me and Harper.”
“I’m your wife, Drew. Really…it’s insulting.”
He wasn’t allowed to appreciate her? To tell her he knew this was beyond trying for anyone, even people who loved each other deeply?
“There’s no need to be defensive, Kris. Jeez, I can’t win for losing with you. Clearly, you’re unhappy with the setup, and I can’t blame you. But what do want me to do?”
“Shush. You’re making a scene.”
“There’s no one in the damn place.” He grabbed his fork and picked at his salad. “We used to talk, Kristy. Now, we’re hard pressed to carry on even a mundane conversation about the weather.”
“I’m trying to make partner. You should know what that’s like.” She ignored her food and took another drink of wine.
He huffed out a breath. “You know what the doctor said?”
She turned in her chair and stared daggers at him. “I hadn’t realized you were listening, because if you were, you’d know that we missed this month’s window of opportunity. I was ovulating last week when you decided to race up here because Harper had a toothache.”
He was screwing this up. Badly. “You didn’t tell me, Kristy. If you had told me—”
“I shouldn’t have to, you should know.” She squeezed the bridge of her nose. “Let’s not do this now.”
She was right. He’d put the entire responsibility of tracking her cycle on her. Between the ovulation kits and fertility monitors, she had it down to a science. All he needed to do was show up. But lately, the whole goddamn thing had become a chore. No longer was their lovemaking spontaneous; everything was done to schedule. Sometimes, she’d call him in the middle of the day to rush home from work and perform like a monkey. On the nights when he felt romantic, she put on the brakes, fearing that it would decrease his sperm count for when “it mattered.”
And the worst part of it was: he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted a baby. This was a crucial time for Harper. She needed him. The demands of an infant would only take him away from the daughter he was just getting to know.
“We’ve got to do it sometime, Kristy.” If they didn’t talk this through, their marriage would only get rockier.
“Not in a restaurant in a town where everyone knows your ex-wife.”
“This has nothing to do with her. This is about us. Only us.”
She cut a piece of meat and regarded it for a few seconds without taking a bite. “That’s not really true, and you know it. She’s Harper’s mother and, whether I like it or not, a part of our life.”
“I suppose that’s true to some extent, but there’s no reason for you to feel threatened by it.”
“I’m not threatened,” she said, and pushed her plate away. “I just feel like I’ve suddenly been thrust into a commune.”
He couldn’t help himself and laughed, because it wasn’t altogether untrue. “What do you want me to do? Abandon my daughter?”
“No, of course not. But maybe I shouldn’t come so often…I feel like a third wheel.”
He touched her arm. “You’re not a third wheel, you’re the love of my life.”
Her eyes watered. “I know. And finding Harper…my God, Drew, it’s miraculous. I’m just having trouble figuring out what my place is.”
“Your place is always with me…with us. It’ll get easier, you’ll see.” But the truth was he didn’t know that for sure. The day his daughter came home, all his priorities changed. It was a lot to ask her to change hers to meet his.
* * * *
The dress was all wrong. Too short, too revealing. No doubt everyone thought Raylene was trash. Why she’d chosen it, she couldn’t remember, only that Annie said she could wear whatever she wanted and this is what Raylene had pulled out of her closet. There was a time when she wore provocative clothing for attention, and Butch had even paid for a breast enhancement. She’d enjoyed men’s stares and women’s jealous remarks.
Now she preferred jeans and sweatshirts and to go incognito. Better yet, invisible. The truth was she used to live to be in the spotlight, but in recent months she’d learned a lot about herself, including that she was more of an introvert than she ever thought possible. She actually enjoyed staying home and reading a book or going to the movies by herself. It should’ve been lonely, but it was liberating. No one to impress, no one to perform for, and no one to have power over her.
Gia, Annie’s maid of honor, tapped her on the shoulder. “You ready?”
“Uh-huh.” They were supposed line up behind the stairwell so they could start the processional. Raylene sucked in a breath. The thought of walking down the aisle while all of Nugget watched—and whispered behind her back—made her feel woozy.
“Hey.” Gabe came up alongside her and hooked his arm in hers. “Samantha said to wait until Nick and Gia are in their places before we start walking. She wants to drag it out for drama.”
Samantha Breyer, her husband, and the police chief’s wife owned the Lumber Baron. A party planner by profession, Sam had helped Annie coordinate the wedding and had overseen the rehearsal. While she hadn’t been outright rude to Raylene, she hadn’t been friendly.
“Drama’s my middle name,” Raylene said under her breath.
“Not tonight, okay?” Gabe squeezed her hand, and any resentment she felt at his comment drifted away. “Hear that? They’re playing our song.”
A string quartet had started the opening chords of “Don’t Stop Believin’” and Raylene rolled her eyes.
“I still can’t believe Logan picked this.” At least Annie had gone with Etta James’ “At Last,” for her walk down the aisle.
“Didn’t you see The Wedding Singer?”
“Shush.” Sam appeared with a clipboard and whispered, “On the count of three.” She held up one, two, then three fingers.
Arm in arm, Raylene and Gabe glided down the aisle. She tried to focus on Logan, who stood at the altar, looking so handsome in his black tuxedo. But seeing Cecilia in the third row, staring daggers, tripped Raylene up and Gabe had to steady her.
They took their places—Gabe alongside Nick and Raylene next to Gia—and she let her gaze drop to her boots before she saw disapproval in anyone else’s eyes. Without Gabe as her wingman, she felt exposed. But when the whole room rose to watch Annie’s father give away the bride, Raylene lifted her head and audibly sighed. Annie looked like an angel. Radiant, and so in love it made Raylene tear up with emotion.
From the side, she caught Gabe watching her and wondered how anyone could take their eyes off Annie. Raylene, who’d never been the weepy type, wished she’d brought tissues, because she cried throughout the entire ceremony.
After Logan kissed the bride, Raylene and Gabe followed the recessional to the hotel lobby where they were supposed to pose for pictures. But the bride and groom kept getting delayed by well-wishers.
“That was nice,” Gabe said in that nonchalant way guys talked when something momentous happened.
“It was better than nice.” Raylene jabbed him in the arm.
“I didn’t take you for the sentimental type.”
“That’s because I’m not.” She grabbed a glass of champagne from one of the servers, almost forgetting that she no longer drank. It would’ve been awkward to return it, so she held the flute, praying that the mere smell of the bubbly wouldn’t seduce her.
By the time they got to the farm stand, which had been transformed into a gorgeous dance hall complete with twinkle lights, ruffled tablecloths, floral arrangements of dahlias, eucalyptus, peonies, sweet peas, and a Western swing band, Raylene craved something stronger than sparkling wine. She used to be a vodka girl, but tonight called for whiskey. Hell, Everclear might not even do the trick. Twice she’d overheard someone calling her a bitch, which wasn’t as bad as being snubbed by Wyatt Lambert, who used to worship her in high school. Gabe had taken off to parts unknown, leaving her alone to face an angry mob. Okay, maybe she was exaggerating, but she could feel the hostility emanating in the air.
Please, God, just let me get through tonight. Then I’ll be on my merry way, hopefully with pockets full of gold.
Even though it was twenty degrees outside, she wanted air and made her way through the crowd, looking for the back door. There had to be one. Every farm stand had a back door, right? As she jostled her way through the crowd, she searched for Gabe. Given that he was at least two heads taller than the average human, he shouldn’t be hard to find. But there was no sign of him. Maybe he’d run off with one of the caterers. The thought made her stomach pitch, which she immediately blamed on the shrimp.
Today, he’d been her hero, rescuing Gunner from TAB, who would probably sell the gelding to a glue factory just to spite her. Watching Gabe work the phone and call in favors had been impressive. And it had saved her bacon. Her horse was everything to her. She didn’t want to think about what would’ve happened if Butch acted on his threat. Of course, Gabe had done it for Logan, to save her brother from having to bail her out of trouble—yet again. But that didn’t make her any less grateful. He’d gone above and beyond. Now all she had to do was figure out how to pay him back. The horse trailer alone would cost a big chunk of change, not to mention gas for the driver. And once he got Gunner to Nugget, she’d have to find a place to keep him. Not a lot of options there, considering her popularity in this town.
She’d worry about it tomorrow. Tonight was about Logan and Annie. Boy, the expression on their faces when they’d seen the ranch gate and sign had been priceless. Pure delight. A rush of joy had filled her as they oohed and aahed over the surprise. “Oh, Raylene, this is perfect, absolutely perfect,” Annie had gushed, her eyes watery. In her whole life, Raylene couldn’t remember ever giving anyone a gift she’d put this much thought or care into. But the ranch gate represented home to her, and she wanted Logan and Annie to have the happiest of homes.
That was her last thought as she slammed into the broad back of one of the guests. He sloshed red wine all over the woman standing next to him. When they turned around, her heart sank. Lucky and Tawny.
“I’m so sorry.” She frantically looked around for a napkin or anything to mop up the mess. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“You did it on purpose.” Cecilia rushed to Tawny’s side, and even with the din of the crowded room people heard her and their heads began to turn. A server brought towels, and Cecilia used them to pat Tawny’s dress dry.
“No, I didn’t, I swear.” She’d been so busy scanning the room for Gabe that she hadn’t been paying attention. “It was an accident.”
“Of course you did.” Cecilia’s face twisted with anger and she said something in Spanish Raylene couldn’t understand. But it wasn’t good. “In a room packed with people, you just happen to bump into Tawny? You expect us to believe that wasn’t intentional?”
“Mom.” Lucky held his hand up. “Not here, not now.”
“I’ll pay for the dress to be professionally cleaned,” Raylene said. Everyone was staring to see what the commotion was, and Raylene wanted to die. She wanted to fade into the woodwork and disappear. But she wouldn’t cower—the Rosser in her wouldn’t let her. She put steel to her spine and, with as much grace as she could muster under the circumstances, said, “Please, just send me the bill.”
“You’re damned right you’ll pay. And if the stains don’t come out, you’ll buy her a new dress. You’re the same old Raylene. Desgraciada.”
“Mom, enough.” Lucky got between them.
At only a few inches taller than Raylene, he was still an imposing man. Despite his jaw-dropping good looks, she didn’t feel her old attraction for him, only a hint of nostalgia. And a deep remorse for the things she’d done and the pain she’d caused.
Raylene’s eyes met Tawny’s, and suddenly they were back in high school. Raylene the mean girl and Tawny, awkward, skinny Thelma Wade.
“I am truly sorry,” Raylene said, and there was a world of meaning in those words. Because she was sorry for all of it.
Gabe pushed through the crowd, and she didn’t know whether to feel relief or doubly embarrassed that he might’ve witnessed the scene. At the very least, someone had alerted him to it and told him to run interference and clean up Raylene’s mess.
Just don’t turn Logan and Annie’s wedding into your personal drama. His words rang in her ears.
And here she was, on stage, being bitch slapped by Cecilia, the woman who’d practically raised Raylene, for the whole town to see. Raylene’s stomach pitched.
“We all good here?” Gabe directed the question at Lucky, the context clear: Make this go away, now!
That was the thing about Gabe, he was commanding in the most charming of ways. But Cecilia had never been one to be bulldozed, by a charmer or anyone else. She got up in his face as much as a woman half his size could.
“She owes Tawny a dress.”
Gabe draped his arm around Cecilia’s shoulders. “I’ll make sure that happens. You have my word.”
“I trust your word, Gabe, not hers. And she’s the one at fault here.”
Cecilia’s husband joined the fray and Raylene’s heart sunk lower. Jake Stryker was the cop she’d mouthed off to a few years ago at the Gas and Go when she’d been back in town—drunk and belligerent.
Do you know who I am? Yep, she’d actually said that. Embarrassment from the memory burned her cheeks.
“Let’s take it down a notch.” Jake herded them into a corner, where they’d be out of earshot of the rest of the guests, and pierced Raylene with a stern look. “No need to disrupt Logan and Annie’s wedding reception.”
Gabe stepped in front of her. “The wine was an accident, Jake. The space is tight, and I’m sure Raylene isn’t the only person to have bumped into someone. She’ll take care of Tawny’s dress first thing tomorrow. Now can we all get back to having a good time?”
Cecilia started to say something but Jake stopped her. “That’s an excellent idea.” He put his hand at the small of his wife’s back and directed her toward the buffet table, leaving the four of them alone.
Lucky draped his jacket over Tawny’s shoulders, doing his best to cover the red splatters on her emerald green dress. The dress matched her eyes to a tee and not for the first time, Raylene noted how much Tawny had changed. No longer a gangly outcast, she was as gorgeous as the boots she made. Sophisticated and sparkly enough for everyone in the room to take notice, but not so glittery to be garish.
Tawny linked her arm through Lucky’s and they started to walk away. Then Lucky turned back to Raylene, and through gritted teeth said, “Don’t bother with my wife’s dress, just do us all a favor and leave Nugget. The sooner the better, before you poison us all.”
It was no less than she deserved, yet the words caught her off guard and she could feel her body tremble. She searched for a door, any door, the impulse to run so urgent she’d go through a window if she had to.
Sensing her desperation, Gabe gently reached for her arm.
“I need some air.” Either that or a drink. Or two or three. The temptation was so strong it came over her in waves. Just one sip, she told herself, anticipating the warmth that would spread through her chest and stomach. How just one swallow would melt the tenseness away and then, sweet release.
“I’ll go with you.”
“No, stay. Logan might need you for something.” Nick was the best man, but Gabe was Logan’s right hand.
“Nah, I’ll come.” He started to lead her away.
“You afraid I’ll make another scene?” All she wanted to do was flee the party and be by herself. It was one thing to know the people she grew up with despised her. But it was entirely different to feel that hatred emanate from their every pore. Even now, she could see them pointing at her, talking behind their hands, telling their friends she was garbage.
“Yeah, I am.” He pulled her away from the crowd and pushed her inside a dark alcove. “Don’t expect me to believe that was just a shitty coincidence. Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world… One night, just one fucking night, and you can’t go without being the center of attention. Haven’t you done enough to Lucky and his family? At least have the decency to show your brother a little respect… Give us all a break.”
“Okay, I will.” She turned and nearly tripped over her own two feet in her rush to get away.
Gabe was right behind her. “Don’t do this. Pretty soon it’ll be time for the toasts and Logan will be looking for you.”
She spun around. “You shouldn’t have left me alone.” It was a ridiculous thing to say, not to mention pathetic. As if it was his responsibility to keep her from walking into people, but she couldn’t help herself. Just like everyone else, he thought the worst of her. “If I hadn’t been searching the room for you, I would’ve seen where I was going.”
He lifted one sardonic brow. “Missed me that much, huh?”
Her eyes were starting to well and she was a hair away from losing it. “Is everything a joke to you?”
He maneuvered her out of the way so a waiter carrying a tray of hors d’oeuvres could get by. She brushed by him and found refuge in the stock room, which the caterers had been using as a staging area. It was empty, and she took advantage of the quiet to catch her breath. She found a napkin and blew her nose, dabbed at her eyes, and tried to gather her courage to go out again.
Tawny, Cecilia, Lucky, the whole town could hate her all they wanted, but she wouldn’t let them run her off. Not on her brother’s wedding night. She remembered all the times she’d been kicked at or thrown by a horse. Yet she’d always gotten right back in the saddle. She’d survived Ray and Butch and AA. Ninety days sober. She could make it a few more hours.
Raylene searched through her clutch for a mirror and lipstick. There was nothing she could do about the town’s hostility toward her. What was done was done. But she could at least put on a good face.
Gabe walked in.
“Will you leave me alone.”
“Tomorrow,” he said, and shoved her cosmetics back inside her purse. “Tonight, I’m your handler, and it’s time for the toasts.”
“I don’t need you to handle me.” She tried to squeeze by him. Ordinarily, she liked brushing against his big, hard body, but he’d hurt her by believing the worst. Maybe they hadn’t known each other long, but she’d been fooled into thinking that he got her. “Move.”
The big lug finally stepped aside, but just as she started to leave, he grabbed her arm and forced her chin up. “Please play nice.”
“Please unhand me.” She jerked her arm away and walked out of the stock room on her own.