Page 20 of The Last Dance You Saved
“Don’t be, really. It’s fine. I’m more than happy to talk with you about what we did and how we worked with the other businesses in town. It’ll all be secondhand information, as my oldest brother was the driving force behind it, but he was happy to send me with his original business plans and the presentations he used to convince the banks it was a solid risk. Ryder said he was paying it forward after all the help he’d had. And if you have questions I can’t answer, I can get them from him.”
What neither Ryder nor I would share was how the person who’d assisted Ryder and my family in our plans to convert the ranch to a resort had ended up being evil. How he’d almost killed Gia and Ryder and tried to kidnap his little girl. Those things were behind us now. And they didn’t change the fact that Jaime Laredohadhelped us before it had all gone to hell.
“Why don’t we get you settled,” Lauren said with a wave toward the castle-like house. “And then we can take a ride over the grounds so I can show you the primary locations we use for the weddings—unless you’re too tired after the drive?”
“Honestly, I’d love it. I feel like I’ve been cooped up for days.” And I realized just how true it was. I’d spent the entirety of the days since leaving Tennessee inside, far away from the sun and the wind and the sounds of nature. I missed the early morning rides I squeezed in before heading to the bar almost as much as the physical work that kept me from obsessing over the past and the future.
Maybe that was really why I’d been so cranky on the first part of the drive. Maybe it had nothing to do with a brown-haired man who’d turned me on and pissed me off in equal measure.
I popped the trunk on the rental and grabbed my suitcase. Wheeling it over the gravel was awkward, and I realized how smart Ryder had been to pave the parking lot at our place, even though, at the time, it had seemed like a huge, unnecessary expense.
As we made our way toward the house, Lauren asked, “What airport did you fly into?”
“Vegas.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “That’s a long drive.”
I laughed. “Longer than it looked online, but I was in Vegas for other reasons, so it made sense to drive over from there.”
As she pushed the large carved doors on the front of the house open, the cool air drifted over me like a soft breeze, a welcome relief after the heat. The entryway was lined with dark wood paneling that led up to vaulted ceilings of embossed copper tiles where a chandelier dripped crystals. The staircase acted as the centerpiece with its oversized dark wood rails and red carpet lined in a classic,Gone with the Windkind of way.
“No elevator,” she said apologetically, heading directly for the polished stairs.
“I’m used to hauling kegs of beer at the bar and baling hay at the ranch. A suitcase isn’t going to do me in,” I promised.
She gave me her soft smile again. The one that still couldn’t dislodge her misery. “Only another true rancher would know just how hard baling can be.”
I smiled back, feeling her sadness eke over me. Adam had said there’d been a death in the family, and it had hit this woman hard. She’d cut herself off when talking about Spencer and then used his name in the past tense. My heart lurched, remembering the family photo on the website with Spencer Harrington’s name below it. Loss was hard, no matter when and where it came from, but especially when it was the partner you’d chosen to be at your side. I might not know that from personal experience, but I’d watched my siblings go through it before they’d eventually found their happily ever afters.
Lauren led me up two flights of stairs to the third floor. The hall had the same dark wainscotting as the entry and was lined with thick, paneled doors. She opened one near the stairs to reveal a bright room full of antiques. The brass bed had a flowered comforter and was piled high with a rainbow of pillows. An antique armoire with scalloped edges stood against one wall, and a matching dresser with a beveled mirror was on another. Beyond it, white sheers were pulled aside to reveal the craggy mountains and winding river. A narrow door near the window was open to reveal white subway tile and a towel rack with pale-blue linens.
“We converted the closet into a small bath,” she said, waving toward the bathroom. “It limits the hanging space to the armoire, but it’s nice for guests to have their own facilities.”
“It’s a lovely room. Do the wedding guests stay here?” I asked.
She nodded. “The bride stays in the main suite on the floor below us, and we have four other rooms we can use for the wedding party. Considering the size of the house, you’d expect us to have more space available, but we’d have to convert many of them and haven’t had the money to invest. The original Harrington homestead and the old, ranch-hand bunkhouse were renovated before money grew really tight. We have twelve rooms between them, so the groom, his groomsmen, and the parents typically stay out there.”
She retreated to the hallway. “Take as long as you like. When you’re ready, I’ll be in the sitting room. It’s right off the main entrance. If you can’t find it, just holler.”
After she left, I took a minute to unpack. I hung some of my work clothes and the summer dress I’d also bought in Vegas in the armoire. I left the sparkly dress Rafe had broken the straps on at the bottom of the suitcase, but longing hit me in the stomach all over again thinking of the moment he’d snapped them. My body practically quivered at the memory. I’d wanted him so desperately. Desperately enough to almost beg for his touch.
Thank God we hadn’t been able to finish. If remembering a heated make-out session could still cause my knees to wobble, what would the memory of having him inside me be like? It might have ruined sex for me for the rest of my life.
And why the hell was I wasting time thinking of him again?
I jerked myself out of the reverie and took my makeup bag into the small bath. With the stall shower, pedestal sink, and a toilet all but touching one another, you could tell it was a renovated closet, but it was still charming. The low ceiling made me feel like a giant when my five-foot-six-inch height was nothing more than average.
After splashing water on my face and pulling my long bob that flirted just past my chin back into a clip, I headed for the door. Taking a ride over new terrain bursting with color and sounds and sunshine was just what I needed to forget everything that had happened in Vegas—or at least everything that had happened with a certain brown-haired, chocolate-eyed asshole. The twenty-five-thousand-dollar prize money I’d earned and a great-grandmother who might have been a jewel thief would require more thought.
Chapter Eight
Rafe
A LOT MORE FREE
Performed by Max McNown
It was later than I’d wantedto leave by the time Fallon and I headed out of the penthouse on Tuesday afternoon. I’d spent the morning firing both my hotel manager and the florist. After investigating the poorly maintained floral arrangements, I’d found out they’d lied to me about their personal relationship and were up-charging me for the flowers while pocketing the difference. This was what happened when I didn’t have the time to keep a closer finger on all aspects of this business. I needed to hire a chief operating officer for Marquess Enterprises—someone I could trust. But wasn’t that just the rub. Trust and me didn’t come easily, and every time I took a gamble, something like this reminded me why I didn’t.
