Page 24 of Making New Plans

Owen pulled out another chair and plopped into it. “And then you’ll leave? Once your business is settled?”

I nodded and took another sip.

Carter smirked. “Called it. I’m telling you, not everyone can hack it here.”

My eyes narrowed. “Not everyone wants to, you mean.”

He shrugged, irritating smirk still in place, and slung back the rest of his beer. “Sounds to me like you’ve got family here. A business. But you’d rather be back East. Small town not good enough for you?”

What was this guy’s deal? Did he live to antagonize people? Or just me? I gritted my teeth. “I have my reasons.”

His dark eyes flashed with a challenge. Wyatt had unloaded the grill and now stood with his arms crossed, observing us like we were a side show at a circus.

Owen drummed his fingers on his knees. “He’s allowed to have his reasons, Carter. But,” he added, turning to me, “this is a great place to hide from any demons you might have.”

“Not if your demons live here.” Shit. Did I say that out loud?

Understanding filled Owen’s eyes.

But Carter scoffed. “Yeah, what demons? Dead parents? Matched.”

Wyatt cut in. “Shut up, man.”

I hadn’t realized I was standing until Owen did the same, ready to step between me and the shit-talking redneck.

“You know, Hunter, I remember you,” Wyatt said calmly. “Before you left. You were a grade behind me. I remember your family, too. Even went to eat at the lodge a few times with my mom.”

Distracted, I shifted my glare from Carter to Wyatt. “So?”

He didn’t flinch. Rock-solid sincerity filled his face. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

A dozen different meanings were packed into that last word. He knew. As I’m sure most of the town had known. Maybe not everything, but enough to feel sorry for the son of an alcoholic dad and a depressed mom, both now gone.

I hated pity. And that these strangers knew about some of my worst scars without me offering up the information. As a matter of self-preservation, I walled off the emotions leaking like blood from those old wounds and schooled my expression.

Setting my drink down on the deck, I stood. “I think it was a mistake to come here. Sorry for intruding.”

“Wait, Hunter—” Owen tried to call me back, but I was already walking back through the house and out the door.

My steps were slow and even as I walked back to the lodge. The sun had mostly set by now, chilling the air. But I welcomed the coolness in my lungs. Leaving had been the right thing to do. I’d gone mostly to prove a point to Chloe. That she didn’t know everything about me. That I could push her like she pushed me.

Besides, I didn’t belong here. I couldn’t be those guys’ friend any more than I could adopt Arwen. Why pursue things that wouldn’t last? Chloe’s blue eyes flashed through my mind again, but I willfully forced the image away. I had a plan, a way forward. Ridding myself of the lodge would cleanse me of those demons Owen had mentioned, and it would give me enough money to move on to what I really wanted: a firm of my own. I could make a name for myself. Pick and choose my clients. Build glorious things that would stand the test of time and maybe leave a decent legacy. Everything would work out. I’d finally be happy once I didn’t have the weight of this town dragging me down. It had to work.

The lodge doors whooshed open in front of me followed by warmth from the lobby fireplace. I tried to rush past the front desk, but my traitorous eyes searched for an increasingly familiar figure. No one was there, but a dim light shone from the open office door. Speaking of things I shouldn’t pursue…

My steps slowed. A battle raged between curiosity and stubbornness.

A feminine sigh came from the office.

Quick as a blink, I slipped behind the desk and stood in the office’s doorway. Chloe sat hunched over the desk, her forehead in her hands and several ledgers open in front of her.

I gave myself two non-creepy seconds to soak in the glow of her golden hair and the shape of her hands and shoulders. The gentlemanly thing to do would have been to quietly clear my throat. So, I did something else.

“Rough night?” I asked in my deepest voice.

She squeaked and shot backward in her chair, nearly ending up on the floor, but she caught herself in time.

“What. The. Hell?” she gasped, a hand pressed to her chest.

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