Page 158 of Backlash

“Neither does mine,” Cassie admitted, wondering just who disliked Denver and Colton enough to risk stealing their horse. This was more than a practical joke—taking a valuable stallion was a criminal offense, and Cassie didn’t doubt for a minute that, if given the chance, Colton would press charges.

Beth grinned as the curly-haired waitress deposited a huge wedge of chocolate mousse pie covered with a cloud of whipped cream in the center of the table. “This looks positively decadent,” Beth murmured, handing one of the long-handled spoons to Cassie. “Come on, help me out.”

Cassie sighed theatrically, but her eyes crinkled at the corners. “First Dad, now you,” she murmured, but plunged a spoon into the pie anyway. “I haven’t eaten so many calories in an entire month as I’ve consumed in the last two days.”

Beth’s lips curved upward. “You could use a few pounds.” She took another bite, then said, “I heard you had dinner with Colton last night.”

Cassie’s brows shot up. “How’d

you find out?”

“Josh’s brother was there with his wife. They saw you together at Timothy’s.”

“Colton dropped by after work and twisted my arm,” Cassie explained. “Kind of like you did today.”

“And so how was Colton? The same as ever? Restless and mysterious?”

“Conciliatory,” Cassie said, thinking. “A little on the mellow side.”

“That’s not the Colton McLean I remember.”

“Me, neither,” Cassie admitted. “But it was nice.”

“So you two ended the feud in one date?”

“It wasn’t a date.”

Beth polished off the last dollop of whipped cream. “If you say so.” She leaned back in her chair, linked her hands around her protruding abdomen and sighed happily. “Does he still think someone took his horse?”

“Oh, yes,” Cassie replied, nodding. “He’s convinced.”

“But you don’t think so?”

“I don’t honestly know. I’m just glad Black Magic is back where he belongs and Colton is off my dad’s back.”

* * *

Colton’s watch over Black Magic didn’t turn up anything suspicious. In fact, all he got for his efforts was a sore shoulder and a bad disposition from several nights of little sleep.

For years he’d existed on two or three hours’ sleep at a stretch, always wary, always concerned that he might wake up with a knife against his throat or the muzzle of a gun in his back. And yet, since he’d been back in Montana, the hours of physical labor on the ranch made demands on his body that five hours of sleep each night couldn’t replenish.

“It’ll get better,” he told himself, but secretly wondered if the reason he was tired all the time was that his nights were filled with wild dreams of Cassie—startling, vivid images that he couldn’t erase from his mind. He’d wake up burning for her, wishing there were some way to douse the fire searing through his mind and body.

Short of finding a woman, he had no cure. As he saw it, he had two options. Chase her down and start rebuilding a relationship or find someone else.

“Fat chance of that,” he told himself, knowing that as long as Cassie was nearby, no other woman would do. He jammed his pitchfork into a bale of hay, then made his way outside. It had been two days since he’d seen Cassie, and it seemed a lifetime.

Glancing around the sun-dappled fields, he felt a kinship with this land he hadn’t experienced in years. Swollen-bodied mares grazed, picking at grass. Red Wing and Ebony, Tessa’s favorites—the pride of her small herd—moved slowly with the rest of the mares. Colton hoped they wouldn’t foal until Tessa and Denver returned, as Tessa had been anticipating the birth of her prize stallion, Brigadier’s offspring, for months.

In another field, yearlings cavorted, kicking up their heels and playfully nipping one another’s necks.

No, this place wasn’t so bad if you could stand the lack of excitement, he decided as he strode to the Jeep. It was fine for Denver. His older brother had changed over the years. But Colton hadn’t, and if it weren’t for Cassie there wouldn’t be anything for him here.

The turn of his thoughts worried him. Admitting that Cassie was more than a passing attraction bothered him. But there it was. Colton believed in “calling ’em as he saw ’em,” and unfortunately he was forced to recognize the simple and annoying fact that Cassie Aldridge had gotten to him all over again. A restlessness overcame him—the same restlessness he’d experienced every night since that evening when he’d first seen her again.

“Idiot,” he muttered, striding across the yard and up the steps of the back porch. He flung open the back door and stopped dead in his tracks.

In the kitchen, an old apron tied around her thick waist, Milly Samms was polishing the stove. Her steel-gray hair had been freshly permed, and she bit her lower lip as she worked furiously. She glanced toward Colton, then stopped, her mouth dropping open. “Well, look at you,” she said, a wide smile cracking her round face. “I barely recognized you without your beard!”

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