Wild Highway: Runaway Series - Book 2 Read online

  “He was so grumpy.” I smiled. “So wonderfully gruff and grumpy.”

  Lou had shunned the mainstream world, living alone at the junkyard. None of us had ever asked why he’d let six kids squat on his property, but I believed it was because when we’d moved in, Lou hadn’t been so alone.

  None of us, not even Karson, had ever been invited into Lou’s home. But he’d allowed us to use the bathroom and the shower in the junkyard’s shop. Once, Karson and I had been sick with a cold and Lou had left us a bottle of cold medicine by the sink.

  Lou hadn’t reported us as runaways. Most adults would have called the cops and ushered us into the foster care system. But I think Lou had liked having us there. And maybe he’d known that if he kicked us out or called the authorities, we would have just run away again, probably to a place not nearly as safe.

  Returning home had not been an option for any of us.

  “He saved us,” Katherine whispered. “No one around here understands that, but Lou saved our lives.”

  “Yes, he did. I wish I would have gone to his funeral. The timing . . . it didn’t work out.” More like I hadn’t made the time. “Do the Greers know? About our childhood?”

  “Have you met Carol? She got me to blurt the whole thing one night about a month after you left. I was feeling alone and angry, so I told her everything. And there’s no such thing as a secret on this ranch. The next night, I went to the family dinner and you should have seen all the pitiful looks. I was so pissed.”

  Which meant Easton knew too.

  I’d kept my past to myself when I’d worked here. We all had. The Sheldons were the only people we’d told. At the time, I wasn’t sure what had caused Katherine and me to spill our tale, to guests, no less. But after working with Sandra and Eric for a few years, I’d learned that it was their nature. They had this magnetic pull, a way of drawing people out of their shells.

  Even after I’d stopped working for their firm, I’d kept in touch with my former mentors. Sandra was my constant companion at Fashion Week in Paris.

  There were others who knew my story—I’d spent years telling Dr. Brewer the horrid details—but the list was small. Not even Benjamin knew about my past. Because, as Katherine had said, the fastest way to earn someone’s pity was to tell them about our youth.

  I didn’t want pity from the Greers. I certainly didn’t want pity from Easton.

  All I’d ever wanted from him was affection.

  Which I’d gotten one glorious night.

  Hours before I’d boarded a Greyhound bus and left Montana behind.

  “Do you ever miss the tent?” Katherine asked, pouring us both more wine.

  I laughed. “I don’t miss sleeping on the ground, but I do miss the nights when we’d have everyone crowded inside because it was raining. I miss the days when we were all bored and would play cards for hours and talk and laugh.”

  “Me too. It’s sad that we’ve all lost touch. But for me, it’s easier this way. To just go on with my life and not look back. I mean, we were happy in the junkyard. As happy as homeless kids could be, but it was hard.”

  “So hard,” I agreed. “My God, we were tough.”

  “And lucky.”

  There were countless other stories of runaway kids whose lives had been cut short. Whose lives had no happy ending. Kids who’d gotten addicted to drugs and alcohol. Girls who’d disappeared into a trafficking ring, never to be seen again.

  Lucky was an understatement.

  “I’m glad you came back,” Katherine said. “It’s good to see you.”

  “I’m glad I came too.” There was a sense of peace here. A calm weight to the air. “It’s relaxing.”

  “Tonight’s a quiet night. You came at exactly the right time. Normally, the dining room is full until eight or nine. But this is a slow week.”

  Which explained why we were the only two in the room except some staffers wandering in and out, checking to see if Katherine needed anything.

  After I’d settled into my guest room earlier, I’d called to check in with Benjamin. As expected, he had everything handled and no emergencies to report. But with nothing else to do—something that hadn’t bothered me while I’d been driving because I’d been driving—I’d pulled out my laptop and spent an hour going through emails.

  It had felt good to reconnect with that familiar part of me. The person who worked efficiently and effectively, checking boxes off lists and moving things forward.

  Except there hadn’t been much to move along. Mostly, it had been correspondence from my financial management team who were still processing the details from my sale of Gemma Lane. Then there’d been a few notes from acquaintances around Boston wondering if the rumors of my hastened exit from the city were true.

  Those emails I’d simply deleted. There’d be buzz about my departure for weeks. People would speculate that I’d lost my mind or burned out. They’d gossip about my shortcomings or that the pressure had become too much.

  It didn’t matter.

  Boston was history and I had no plans to return.

  The rest of my afternoon had been spent reading. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d read a book for sheer pleasure. I hadn’t even owned a book, but my room had compensated for my shortcomings. It had come stocked with three different paperbacks in the dresser drawer.

  I’d lost myself in a thriller until Katherine had knocked on my door around six for dinner. We’d been talking for hours. I’d told Katherine about my life and she’d told me about hers here at the resort.

  My gaze traveled around the room in a slow, appraising circle. The tables were arranged much like a restaurant, in varying sizes, around the space. Katherine had explained that they employed a full-time chef and served both breakfast and dinner here. Sack lunches were available by request, mostly because keeping regular hours with the resort activities was difficult.

  A few guests had come down for dinner but had since retired to their rooms. Others must have opted for room service. The guests who rented the chalets—at four thousand dollars per night—had access to a different chef who’d go to their chalets and prepare a private meal.

  “This place looks fantastic,” I told Katherine. “When I came in this morning, my first thought was how nothing here had changed. But that’s not true, is it?”

  “About four years ago, we started doing some renovations,” she said. “Mostly cosmetic. Paint. Curtains. Art. Bedding. It’s made a difference.”

  “It was your idea, wasn’t it?”

  She hid her smile in her wine.

  The differences had Katherine’s gentle and classic touch written all over them. She’d transformed the resort from lovely to magical.

  The subtle differences had escaped my quick inspection earlier. The walls were a brighter shade of white, something that complemented the rich wood ceilings and floors. The chairs in the dining room had once been wooden, but they’d been replaced with cream upholstered pieces that softened the room and brightened the crystal chandelier’s golden light.

  It was still rustic, but now there was a chic edge to the decor. It was fancy without being pretentious but would appeal to the wealthy who could afford a vacation here.

  “We actually did updates all over the ranch. The stables are a dream these days. You could eat off the floor because Easton insists on keeping them spotless.”

  Easton.

  I’d seen him earlier from the window in my room. He’d been riding a huge black horse through a meadow in the distance. I’d spied on him until he and his horse had become nothing but a fleck in the green pasture.

  But I’d known it was him. I’d recognize Easton’s broad shoulders and black cowboy hat anywhere. I remembered how his dark hair looked when the ends curled at the nape of his neck, and how his strong arms filled out the sleeves of his plaid, pearl-snap shirts.

  The thud of boots echoed through the room, drawing me from my musings.

  Katherine’s attention darted over my shoulder. “Hey.”


  “Hey.”

  Tingles ran up my spine at the familiar deep rumble.

  But I refused to turn and pay Easton any mind. He’d been cold and unfriendly to me for as long as I could remember. Well, except that one night. But after today’s collision by the front door, it seemed nothing had changed.

  “What’s up?” Katherine asked him.

  “Came to grab some dinner before I go home.”

  Home? It was almost nine o’clock at night. Didn’t he have a wife or a girlfriend waiting?

  “You remember Gemma, don’t you?” Katherine gestured to me with her wineglass.

  I looked over my shoulder and gave him a tight smile.

  Easton was standing at my side, his arms crossed over his chest. His jaw was granite and his eyes didn’t so much as flicker my direction.

  He ignored Katherine’s reintroduction entirely.

  Asshole. “Nice to see you again, Easton. You look . . . older.”

  Older. Sexy as hell. Same thing.

  He harrumphed, but didn’t bother with any other acknowledgement, addressing only Katherine as he spoke. “I need an hour tomorrow when you have one to go over some schedules. I need to steal a couple of the hands from guest services to help move some steers.”

  “Okay.” She nodded. “I’ll check my calendar and shoot you a text with the time.”

  “Fine.”

  “Would you like to join us?” She gestured to the empty seat beside me.

  Easton answered by walking out of the room, not sparing me another glance before he disappeared through the door that led to the kitchen.

  Wow.

  “I see you two still hate each other.”

  It had never been hatred. More like two kids who hadn’t realized that hate was actually foreplay.

  Katherine stood from her chair and walked over to the bar along the rear wall. She swiped a wine bottle off the shelf, opened it with the corkscrew and brought it to the table. “I’ll probably regret this bottle in the morning.”

  “Me too.” I held up my glass.

  “How long are you staying?”

  “I don’t know. A day or two. Is that okay? If you have an incoming reservation, I can take off tomorrow.”

  “No, stay. I’ll need the room back next week. It’s hunting season and we’re booked solid through Christmas. But if you want to stay longer, you can stay at my place. We have a guest bedroom that’s always empty.”

  “We?” My eyes darted to her naked ring finger. “I didn’t know you were living with someone.”

  “I live with Cash.”

  “Oh. I didn’t realize you were together.”

  “No, no, no.” She waved it off. “We’re not together. We’re just roommates. And coworkers. And friends.”

  Friends. With the way she stressed the word, either he wanted more, and she wasn’t interested, or it was the other way around.

  Cash had been at college when I’d worked here, and I’d only spoken to him once when he’d come home for spring break. But I’d recognized him instantly when he’d helped me bring my luggage into the lodge earlier. He had the same good looks as his older brother, though Easton carried a rougher edge. The biggest difference between the Greer men was that Cash was nice.

  Easton, not so much. Though he was nice to look at.

  “Carol and Jake built a house in the foothills about five years ago,” Katherine said. “Cash and Easton were living in their old place, but a few years ago, Easton decided to build too. So rather than stay in one of the staff apartments, it made sense for me to move into the house. It was getting weird for the staffers to have the boss living next door.”

  The staff quarters were what I’d imagined a college dorm was like. Fun for a younger crowd but totally impractical for adults who’d outgrown their communal living days.

  I’d loved living in the quarters. I’d loved having a decent shower and soft mattress. The accommodations weren’t spacious, but for Katherine, Londyn and me, they’d been sublime. A giant step up from the junkyard.

  The door to the kitchen opened and Easton came striding out carrying a plate covered with aluminum foil in his hand. He kept his brown eyes aimed forward, not oblivious to the way Katherine and I watched him walk, just uncaring.

  Was he heading to his house alone? Even with the foil, I could tell his plate was heaped with food. It was enough for two people.

  There was no chance Easton was still single. He was an extremely sexy man with a steady job and an ass that looked delicious in a pair of Wranglers.

  And without.

  Too bad he was a jerk and probably married. A night with Easton Greer was exactly the thing my newly spontaneous self would have applauded.

  “Goodnight,” Katherine called to his back as he walked past the threshold that connected the dining room to the lobby.

  Easton’s steps didn’t slow. “Night, Kat.”

  Rejected again. Damn. Eleven years later and it stung. But there was no use dwelling on the actions of a man I’d leave behind in a day or two. I’d done that enough. I’d wished for his warm smile when all I’d ever received was the cold shoulder.

  That hadn’t changed. The only time he’d taken notice was the night I’d let him take me to his bed.

  A night I hoped had remained a secret.

  “He calls you Kat?” I asked.

  “It’s something Cash started.” She shrugged. “I’m the little sister, so I got a nickname.”

  A nickname and status she didn’t want. At least, not with Cash. Her friends comment was beginning to make sense.

  “Would you like to go on a few excursions while you’re here? Maybe a ride or a hike while the weather’s good?” she asked, changing the subject.

  I hummed, sipping my wine and thinking it over. Without work, I had nothing to do but sit in my room. “I haven’t ridden a horse since I was here last. That might be fun.”

  “Great. I’ll arrange a private lesson for you tomorrow.”

  “Perfect.” When she raised her glass, I clinked mine to hers. “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about. Carol wouldn’t let me pay when I checked in, but I’d like to. Can you make that happen? Please? She did so much for me, and the least I can do is pay for my room.”

  “If she finds out, I’m dead meat.”

  I zipped my lips shut.

  “Okay.” She laughed. “You can pay.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled. “And thanks for hearing me out. I know I’ve said it about a hundred times tonight, but I am sorry. Truly.”

  “It’s okay, Gemma.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Katherine nodded. “I swear. It’s forgotten.”

  The two of us stayed in the dining room until midnight, chatting and drinking more wine before saying our goodnights. When I fell asleep, it was with a smile and a light heart.

  Katherine didn’t hate me. She’d accepted my apology. And I’d reunited with my friend.

  But the next morning when I showed up at the stables for my riding lesson, I realized I’d assumed too much. Maybe she was out to punish me for my mistake, after all.

  Because Katherine, my friend, had paired me with the worst riding instructor on earth.

  Easton.

  “Forgotten, my ass,” I muttered. “She hates me.”

  Chapter Five

  Easton

  “What the fuck? You’re my ten o’clock?”

  “Hey, don’t look at me like that.” Gemma fisted her hands on her hips. “This wasn’t my idea.”

  “Goddamn it.” I pulled my phone from my pocket and called Kat’s cell. She didn’t answer. So I called her office. It went straight to voicemail. Shit. “I don’t have time for this. We have paying customers who need lessons. And I have work to do.”

  “I am paying,” Gemma shot back. “But forget it. I don’t need to ride a horse this bad.”

  As she spun on a boot heel and marched away, my phone dinged with a text from Katherine.

  Everyone else wa
s booked. You were the only instructor available.

  A mistake I’d fix on next month’s schedule.

  Every month, Katherine and I sat down and outlined lesson blocks and paired them with instructors. We always made sure there was one private lesson slot available for one-on-one rides throughout the day because guests often had last-minute requests. So one instructor stayed behind, while the rest were sent out on the scheduled rides and lessons.

  Personally, I hated the group shit. It was tedious and slow. I did better one-on-one when I could go wherever I wanted and the pace was faster. So when we were shorthanded, like we were this week because one of the guys was on vacation, I was the backup for private lessons.

  Starting tomorrow, I’d start training Rory so I’d never be on the damn schedule again.

  My phone dinged again with another text from Kat.

  She’s my friend. And a guest. Be nice. For me? Please?

  Yeah, that’s a no.

  I loved Katherine. She’d melded into our family seamlessly and was the closest thing to a younger sister I’d ever have. She was hardworking, smart and kind. But adopted sister or not, there was no way in hell I was spending two hours alone with Gemma.

  My phone buzzed again.

  Do this lesson and I’ll make sure Jake is too busy to bother you for two weeks.

  Katherine would probably beg Granddad with those blue eyes for a special task. Something that would flatter him and make him brag at family dinners. I could hear him already.

  I can’t help with the equipment next week. Katherine needs me.

  Goddamn it. Younger sisters were overrated.

  “Fine,” I muttered, not bothering to respond. Kat knew she was dangling a carrot and I wouldn’t resist.

  “Wait,” I called to Gemma’s back as she neared the door.

  She kept walking.

  I tucked my phone away and chased after her, my long strides eating up the distance between us. “Gemma.”

  She didn’t slow.

  “Gemma!” I bellowed as she stepped out the door and into the sunshine. “Would you stop?”