chapter 36

If that was the way she felt, then he'd have to hear it sooner or later. But he wasn't

ready to hear it yet, so he'd given himself until next Friday to get ready to take the hit. He

wasn't quite ready to give up hope. Not that it would be any easier next Friday, but at

least he'd have some time to mentally prepare.

And as for why he'd told her to come to the ranch, rather than him coming to her? If

he had to drive two hours just to get his ass handed to him, it would add insult to injury.

She'd said in her e-mail to Gen that letting him go had been the biggest mistake of

her life. But from where Colin was standing, it looked like it was a mistake she didn't

intend to correct.

He spent the week leading up to Friday acting moody as hell, which pissed Desmond

off to no end.

"Why'd you even bother to come out here if you're gonna act like it's some damned

prison sentence?" Desmond, a stout, weathered man in his midfifties, complained one

day when Colin went out to the little two-bedroom house on the property where Desmond

had been living with his wife for the past two decades.

Colin had been meeting with Desmond semiregularly since his move so he could

learn a little about how the place ran. That irked Desmond, who felt that it was one thing

to put up with Liam—an experienced cattleman—but quite another to have to tolerate a

lawyer who didn't know a damned thing about ranch work, even if his last name did

happen to be Delaney.

For the most part, Colin had been handling Desmond's disdain with calm

professionalism. But since he'd set the date to meet with Julia, he'd grown increasingly

intolerant of the man's surly behavior.

Colin was getting more short-tempered and irritable the closer Friday came, until

finally, the Tuesday before the big day, the two of them had it out.

"I don't have to justify to you why I'm here," Colin said in response to Desmond's

taunt. "If having me on my own property is too big an inconvenience for you, Desmond,

you can always find yourself another job."

Desmond scoffed. "Who do you think would run this place without me here? You

might mess up your nice manicure if you had to come within ten feet of the herd."

"What in the world?" said Mona, Desmond's wife, when she overheard the two men

arguing. She'd been working in the back bedroom—which she'd turned into a sewing

room—while the men had been talking at the kitchen table. Now, she stood in the kitchen

doorway, wringing her hands with worry. "Desmond, for goodness sake, Colin's got

more of a right to be here than we do."

Desmond made a hmmph noise and continued glaring at Colin.

Mona, a soft, gray-haired woman of his mother's generation whom Colin had known

for many years, walked up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Colin, dear, what's wrong? You're not yourself."

"I'm fine, Mona," he lied.

"Nonsense," she shot back. "I can see with my own eyes that's not true. I told your

mother I'd look out for you, and I'd never hear the end of it if I don't find out what's got

you so wound up."

Colin blew out some air, glared at Desmond, and then looked up to where Mona was

standing over him.

"There's this woman …" he began.

"Ah, Christ. There's always a woman," Desmond broke in.

"You be quiet," Mona told her husband. Then, to Colin: "Go on."

Mona was so caring and maternal that Colin found himself opening up to her, telling

her the whole story of all that had transpired with Julia.

"Oh, honey," Mona said when he was finished. "She's a fool if she can't see what

kind of man you are."

"I'd guess she does see," Desmond said. "That's the problem."

"Hush!" Mona swatted her husband's shoulder with her hand.

When she spoke again to Colin, her voice was soothing and affectionate. "Don't you

worry," she said, giving him an encouraging smile. "I have a feeling all of this is going to

work out for the best."

She said it as though she knew something that he didn't.

Given the vast variety of things Colin felt like he didn't know at the moment, he

thought that was pretty damned likely,

On the Friday that Julia was expected to arrive, the weather was perfect, without a cloud

in the great expanse of the sky. The temperature was in the high sixties. The Bighorn

Mountains, still topped with snow, rose into the southeastern sky, and the sandstone

Rimrocks stood sentry over Billings and its inhabitants.

Colin had needed to make a quick trip to Southern California two days earlier to deal

with some issues regarding the commercial development of the Palm Springs land, and

he'd caught a flight back to Billings Logan International Airport that afternoon. Now, he

was back in his car and heading out toward the ranch with a sick feeling in his gut.

The idea that he was on his way to be rejected by Julia—again—made him as

nervous as he'd been when he'd taken the bar exam. And that time, he'd thrown up twice.

This didn't feel a whole hell of a lot better.

On the drive back to the ranch, he briefly considered turning around and not going,

but then he told himself to show up and act like a man. If the woman didn't want him, it

was better to know.

He drove up the narrow road that led to the ranch through stands of Ponderosa pine

and aspen trees, following the route of a creek that was swollen with May rains. The sun

was still well above the western horizon, and its gentle light filtered through the trees.

Nothing looked unusual when he pulled his car up to the house, a big, rambling

single-story that had been built back in the '70s and that was sorely in need of a remodel.

Maybe he'd do that, if he was going to stay here any length of time. And maybe after

today, he'd be ready to go back to California and never look at this place again.

Desmond would like that.

He pulled his Mercedes into the driveway and found that Julia's car was already

there. His heartbeat sped up, and his palms started to sweat. Stupid. It was just stupid to

let a woman make him feel this way.

Colin got out of the car and wondered where Julia could be. She wasn't on the porch,

and she wasn't in her car. Maybe she was taking a walk by the creek. It was a good day

for it.He stepped up onto the porch and let himself into the house. He was a meticulously

tidy man by nature, but before his trip, he'd left the place looking a little ragged. He

hadn't felt much like keeping house lately.

In the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer in a longneck bottle.

Just as he was about to open it, something caught his eye out the window over the sink.

What the hell?

He set the beer on the counter and went out the back door and into the yard behind

the house.