Page 21 of His Cowboy Heart

One week later

I parked car in the circular drive in front of the old house. It felt surreal. I had hoped that seeing the house on the lake would stir up a feeling of belonging. I craved a sense of home that would tell me I’d made the right choice.

Abigail had left about three ranting voice mails threatening to sue me for breach of contract and humiliation. Every word from her made me more certain that I’d done the right thing. I’d talked to Miguel who told me that he’d broken up with Nanthany as well.

I didn’t doubt my decision to leave Abigail. But I wanted a sign that returning to Salishan would bring me the peace I so desperately needed. Would it bring me the closure with Shea I craved? Was I a fool to think I’d ever see her again?

The lake house looked run down. The rolling green lawn that stretched from the lakeside to the road looked more like an unkept field.

The white pillars that framed the porch looked dusty and dim.

In my memory, the house was vivid and bright. In real life, the house felt faded and empty. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath knowing in my bones that there was no other path for me than this.

I needed to discover for myself and where I really belonged.

Aunt Mayra had arranged to have someone air out the house and meet me on the property. I tried to insist I was capable of opening windows and doors on my own, but Aunt Mayra would have none of it.

In all honesty, I was touched by the gesture. I think Aunt Mayra was pleased I’d broken things off with Abigail but she’d never admit it.

Mother was of course not speaking with me. Her feelings on my decision to break off with Abigail and take on the Salishan project were unambiguous.

She felt angry.

She felt betrayed.

Her wrath would manifest itself in a cold front that might take years to lift. I had never broken rank so publicly. I was sorry that Mother felt humiliated by my decision to listen to my heart, but it didn’t mean I was going to change my mind.

I jumped as someone tapped on my car window.

I looked up to see a short curvy woman standing beside the car. She wore a purple halter top and jean shorts. She had the longest eyelashes I’d ever seen.

“Oh, sorry. I’m Celia,” she said, extending her hand.

“Troy. Troy Van Rossum.”

“Oh, I recognized you right away,” she said, smiling she revealed two dimples. “I remember you from years back. I was a year behind Shea in school. I work at the Gold Digger now. You probably remember that place from when you were together.”

Something must have flashed in my face.

“Oh sorry,” she said, cringing. “There I go just running my mouth off. I mean you two were something else, right? And I’ve done it again . . .” she said, her voice soft.

I smiled. “You are right. We were something else.”

We sat in silence for a moment.

Celia smacked her lips.

I moved to the trunk to grab my bags. “You have the keys to the house?”

“Sure do,” she said. “My parents are the part time caretakers.” She stood on the porch and surveyed the property. “I know the place looks a bit run down. You should know my parents have been telling your Aunt that they need more hours to really keep things up. They ask for a bigger budget every year.”

“It’s fine,” I said, hating this role of landowner.

“No, really. They wanted to hire a gardener and they priced out some paint.” She ran her hands up the white column over the peeling pieces. “It’s a beautiful place. It’s such a shame to see it in disrepair.”

“Things fall apart over time.”

She looked at me, her smile a bit crooked. “Is that why you’ve come back then? To fix things up?”

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