Page 153 of Backlash

“Maybe not, Cassie,” he muttered to himself.

Her hands were shaking as she drove out of the parking lot and eased into the gentle flow of early-evening traffic. The wipers swished rain from the windshield, and Cassie squinted against oncoming headlights.

Colton slouched even lower, and she could feel the weight of his gaze upon her as she drove. She refused to glance in his direction, forcing herself to stare at the shimmering road ahead, concentrating on the traffic.

Timothy’s was perched on the banks of the Sage River, near the famous falls for which the town was named. Originally a flour mill, the rambling building was constructed of river rock, mortar and dark cross beams. Near the front door an old waterwheel still creaked and turned, with water splashing over its time-worn planks.

She climbed out of the truck and marched toward the restaurant, all too aware of Colton beside her. He didn’t touch her, didn’t so much as brush her arm, but she was careful to keep the distance between them wide as they hurried up the slick brick path to wide double doors.

Inside, a huge foyer was lit with flickering sconces and wagon-wheel chandeliers. The stone walls rose three full stories to an arched, beamed ceiling. The floor was smooth stone, and burgundy cloths covered the tables. Kerosene lanterns adorned each table, the quivering flames providing intimate illumination.

“I haven’t been here in years,” Cassie admitted, following a waiter to the back of the building.

Their table was private, near a huge bank of windows overlooking the swollen Sage River as it tumbled wildly over the falls. Filled with spring rain and the runoff from the mountains, the green water churned in frothy torrents, cascading over steep rocks, crashing some forty feet below to swirl in a swift current. Cassie, aware of Colton, stared through the glass.

“What would you like?”

To run away from here—from you. “Anything.” She forced her gaze to his.

When the waiter reappeared, Colton ordered for them both, then settled back in his chair.

Nervous, Cassie sipped from her water glass. Pretending interest in the wine list, she was able to avoid his eyes. Obviously he wasn’t going to make this easy.

“So,” she ventured, trying to appear calm, though a nervous sweat had dampened her skin. “What changed your mind? It must’ve been something earth-shattering for you to think you should apologize.”

“It was.”

The waiter brought their orders—crisp salad, fresh trout, steaming vegetables and a basket of sourdough bread. Once he disappeared again, Colton ignored his food. “You changed my mind, Cassie,” he said.

Her eyes flew to his, and he held her gaze, though she could swear his face had turned a darker shade. “Me?”

“All that self-righteous indignation the other day.”

“It got to you?” She could barely believe her ears.

He lifted a shoulder. “I guess.”

“So you think Dad’s innocent?”

Colton frowned. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he hedged, “but whatever happened with the horse, it’s over. As far as I can see, other than that I was made to look like a fool, there was no harm done.”

She eyed him thoughtfully. “You expect me to believe you?”

“Believe what you want, Cass,” he said with a sigh. “I just thought that instead of working so hard at fighting, we should try to be civil to each other.”

Her throat was suddenly dry. “Why?”

“It’s long overdue.”

Colton picked up his fork and cut into his fish, but Cassie ignored her meal. “So this is your grand gesture to end the feud, is that it?”

He shook his head. “Unfortunately I don’t think I can do that,” he admitted. “But I’d just like to start over with you.”

Start over. Cassie looked away. If only they could roll back the years and erase the pain that kept them apart. She tried to swallow a bite of bread, but it seemed stuck in her throat.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot the other night.”

“You think right,” she finally replied, trying to remember that she was supposed to detest him. “I’m not crazy about my family’s name being dragged through the mud.”

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