“What fresh hell is this?”
Gage Stanton ignored his brother’s question as they rolled to a stop in front of the entrance to Angel River Ranch. It had taken hours to reach what was just a tiny map dot near the Wyoming/Montana border.
Noah sat forward in his seat, raking his fingers through his hair as he surveyed the landscape beyond the windows of Gage’s BMW. “This blows,” he muttered, not for the first time since they’d left the courthouse in Denver that morning.
“Would you rather be sitting in jail for the next few months?”
Noah’s lips thinned. He was twenty-two years old. Spoiled. Selfish.
Rich, except that Gage had managed to secure the bulk of Noah’s inheritance so he couldn’t squander it. Still, he consistently blew through his extremely generous allowance.
“I wouldn’t be in jail,” he muttered after Gage had rounded another curve. “Archer would have gotten me off.”
“Kid, the only reason you’re not in jail is because I convinced the judge that working for me would put you back on the straight and narrow.” Not that Noah had ever walked the straight and narrow path. Before she’d died, it had been one of their mother’s greatest regrets. “And Archer Templeton is my attorney. Not yours.” He wouldn’t admit how many times his lawyer had already intervened on his brother’s behalf. But even Archer was fed up.
Noah drew himself up tight. “Don’t call me kid.”
“Then stop acting like one,” Gage snapped. He turned onto the dirt road and drove through the guest ranch entrance marked by a forged iron sign.
He should have taken time to get an SUV. Something more suited to driving in this backwater than his M8.
Considering the rates Angel River commanded, he was surprised by the primitive road. He made a mental note to check about the roads getting in and out of the Rambling Rad Ranch.
He still wasn’t sure what had prompted him to become the majority partner in the guest ranch development in the first place. He built luxury resorts. Master planned communities. Industrial complexes. Not places where people went to pretend they were cowboys. And he didn’t work with partners—even when they happened to be former employees that he trusted.
It wasn’t that it was a bad plan. The Rad was located—literally—right on the edge of Rambling Mountain. The Wyoming mountain had, until earlier that year, been privately owned by an old man who’d never shared an acre of his property with anyone. Now, Otis Lambert was gone and Gage had won an expensive bidding war to purchase the decrepit cattle ranch. Because of Gage’s new partnership with April Dalloway and her husband, Jed, the stakes to turn it into something successful were even higher. It wasn’t only Gage’s investment on the line. Aside from the expensive—but relatively simple—purchase of the ranch itself, use of the remainder of the mountain remained uncertain.
In his will, Otis Lambert had stipulated that the mountain beyond the ranch borders be for public use—ideally a state park—but so far nothing was set. As the matter languished on the vine because of politics and budget constraints, Archer had been bugging Gage to get involved at the local level—namely the town of Weaver, located closest to the mountain. Because if the land didn’t become a state park, it would fall under Weaver control. But Gage preferred keeping his distance from Weaver for reasons that had nothing to do with getting into the guest ranch business or who ended up in control of the pristine mountain wilderness that surrounded it.
Gage had always believed that good business trumped personal business. It’s what had gotten him this far in life. But in this case, Weaver was way too close to personal.
“Doesn’t look like much.” Noah’s morose voice brought Gage’s thoughts back to the present.
He had to agree. The curving road bisected one side of nothing and the other side of nothing. There were no trees to speak of. There wasn’t anything particularly green. The fields had bypassed gold and headed straight into brown.
He couldn’t blame that on anything other than the time of year, though. It was the end of October. Back home in Denver, it had already snowed once that month before temperatures soared back up again. When he’d spoken with Sean McAdams, the owner at Angel River, Sean had told him they probably wouldn’t see snow until after Thanksgiving. But Gage should pack for it. Just in case.
Since he hadn’t really planned to make this jaunt to Nowhere, Wyoming, in the first place, he hadn’t put a lot of advance thought into what he’d thrown into his suitcase. He traveled a lot. He’d grabbed the usual stuff and pitched it in.
His lawyer had told him about the Angel River property a few months ago. It had plenty of travel and leisure awards to its credit and was one of the most well-regarded guest ranches in the Western United States. Based on Archer’s research, Gage had arranged to send Wade Jenkins from his office to find out what did and didn’t work for Angel River. Gage had been ready to pay the price for that research, too. Not just the cost of lodging Wade for a couple weeks, but compensation to Angel River for behind-the-scenes information that would be used by the Rad, which—in time—would be their competitor. Sean had agreed to the plan.
Then the situation with Noah had reared its ugly head.
Gage damn sure hadn’t planned on coming here himself, much less with his spoiled half brother in tow. But during court that morning he’d felt forced to act.
Because before she died, Gage had made an impossible promise to his mother that he’d always watch out for him.
Noah’s latest stunt to land him in front of a judge again had been crashing his car through the plate-glass window of a Denver high-rise. A high-rise that Gage owned.
Thankfully, Noah hadn’t hurt anyone. Not even himself.
Of course, he’d been drunk, despite just spending weeks in a rehab facility.
He’d also been pissed at Gage for finally telling him his allowance was being cut off. For telling him that he needed to find a job. Go to work and be a productive member of society.
Needless to say, Noah hadn’t been happy. He was the only heir of a pharmaceutical magnate. He didn’t “do” work.
Gage’s choice that morning had been to either let his brother see serious jail time for this latest escapade or personally guarantee that Noah would stay sober and productive.
He’d called the owner of Angel River yet again with a change in plans. Squirreling Noah away at the ranch for a month and a half would either be Gage’s best idea ever or one of his very worst.
He squelched a sigh and continued following the dirt road until it took a sharp turn. Suddenly they were overlooking a verdant strip of land. Autumn-hued trees clung to the banks of a glittering river that flowed past a large lodge situated on a hill. Several other smaller buildings were scattered on both sides of the river.
Horses grazed in a pen some distance away from the lodge, and even farther beyond that, Gage could see cattle milling around and a few figures on horseback. It looked as picture-perfect as it did on the ranch’s slick website.
“What am I supposed to be doing here, anyway?” Noah’s sulky tone raked on Gage’s patience.
He pulled up to a glorified shack bearing a stop-here sign. “It’s a ranch,” he said flatly. “I’m pretty sure there’ll be plenty of things to keep you busy.”
Noah started muttering what he thought about that, but he broke off and rolled down his window when the young woman who’d stepped out of the shack approached his side of the car.
She leaned down to look through the window, wearing a smile that spread all the way to her sparkling eyes. “Welcome to Angel River. You must be Mr. Stanton.”
“He is,” Noah said with a jerk of his head.
Despite Noah’s sullen tone, her smile didn’t waver. “I’m Marni. If you’ll pull up to the main lodge, they’ve been expecting you.” She gestured toward the log building situated on the knoll, her bright gaze skipping from Gage’s face to Noah’s and then back again. “You’ll have a chance to settle in, but don’t take too long. Everyone’s already gathering at the barn for the afternoon activity. Here’s a map of the property.” She thrust a black-and-white brochure through the window at Noah then stepped back from the car. “Enjoy your stay!”
Gage watched her practically skip back toward the shed, her spiky pink hair bouncing. “Cute.”
Noah just made a grunting sound. If he appreciated the girl’s cheerful friendliness or gamine prettiness, he obviously wasn’t going to say.
Gage was damned if he knew what qualities actually interested Noah. He’d never seemed to date a girl more than a few times.
But then, the same thing could be said about himself. He’d been married once. Briefly and a long time ago. As exes, he and Jane were a lot happier with each other than they’d ever been when they’d been married. Now she was married to a decent guy who gave her the sort of time a man should give his wife. Should want to give his wife. They even had kids.
But Gage had learned his lesson. He liked playing to his strengths. Relationships weren’t one of them.
He continued on to the lodge while Noah looked at the map.
The closer they got, the more rutted the road became. By the time Gage parked between a couple of muddy vehicles, he’d decided that all the access roads to the Rad would be paved. Just because the place wouldn’t be one of his typical luxury resorts, guests still shouldn’t have to worry about taking out an axel before they even reached their destination.
As Noah just sat there, Gage climbed out of the car with relief and pulled out his cell phone. There was barely any signal. Regardless of the reasons that had brought him here, Gage still had a business to run. He hoped the ranch at least had decent Wi-Fi.
“Come on,” he told his brother. “Sitting there sulking isn’t going to change anything.”
From inside the vehicle, Noah told Gage what he could go and do with himself.
Gage almost smiled.
His brother was nothing if not consistent.
* * *
Inside the lodge’s office, Rory McAdams stood at the window and watched the tall man climb from his low-slung black vehicle. He was too far away to see his face, but everything about him looked impatient. From the fingers he thrust through his dark hair to the way he looked at his cell phone and wristwatch.
On top of everything else, he was going to be one of those.
The kind of guest who arrived all tensed up and would stay that way once he realized that all of his fancy little tech devices didn’t count for squat here. The ranch provided wireless internet, but it wasn’t exactly the lightning-fast variety. The phones were connected by that old-fashioned thing called wire. There weren’t even televisions inside the guest rooms, and the newspaper that her father still insisted on subscribing to was always delivered several days late.
She glanced over her shoulder at him. Despite the latest tests that said Sean McAdams’s cancer hadn’t returned after two years, the battle had left its mark. He looked a fraction of the man who had been at the helm of Angel River for nearly all of her life.
“He’s here,” she said.
Her father nodded. “I told you he would come.” He gave her a pointed look that was reminiscent of his precancer days. “No matter how much you hoped he wouldn’t.”
Rory swallowed the denial on the tip of her tongue. What her father said was true.
“Better go and greet him,” her dad prompted. “He’s a paying guest.”
“Gage Stanton’s a competitor,” she muttered. One who wanted to pick their brains for every secret to their success just so he could turn around and use that information against them.
Aware of the way her dad was watching her, she tightened the ponytail at the back of her head, picked up two of the gift bags they always presented to incoming guests and left the office. Maybe her steps were a little more like stomps, but she couldn’t help it.
Aside from the arrangement he’d made with Stanton, her dad hadn’t made a single decision where the ranch was concerned since he’d gotten sick. What other things might he be planning without telling her?
The office had once been on the third floor with windows that afforded its occupants a near-panoramic view of the main ranch. Since her dad’s health had declined, they’d relocated it to the main floor, taking over a guest suite. It was convenient for him since there was a fully equipped bedroom. It meant he could rest whenever he’d needed to without returning to his cabin located a few miles away.
Now that he was feeling better, they could have moved the office back to its original location, freeing up the room for bookings again.
Only there’d been no need.
Right now, the lodge was quiet, but its peacefulness didn’t soothe her like it usually did.
The lunch hour had passed. Bart had cleared everything away, and the guests were off on their afternoon activities. Frannie, she hoped, was cleaning the guest rooms while they were empty.
Rory reached the lodge entrance and pushed her lips into a smile she didn’t feel before pulling open the heavy door. The wind whipped at her ponytail as she stepped outside. She gathered it over one shoulder, trying to keep it under control as she walked along the wide porch toward a set of stairs that led down to the driveway.
Most guests preferred to fly. Wymon, the nearest town, had an airstrip the ranch paid to maintain just so their guests would have an easier time reaching them. The fact that Stanton had chosen to drive such an impractical vehicle here only underscored the fact that he wasn’t a typical guest.
She still couldn’t see the man’s face. He was too busy with his cell phone.
This time she deliberately clomped her boots just to get his attention. Finally he lifted his head and looked her way.
Rory was immediately glad that she’d already reached the bottom of the steps, or she might have fallen over her feet.
Gage Stanton—assuming the new arrival was Gage Stanton and not the other guest he’d told her dad he was bringing—was gorgeous. Seriously, studly gorgeous.
So gorgeous that it was an effort to get her mouth to work in conjunction with her brain. Her mouth wanted to drool. Her brain wanted to get him moving on his way as quickly as possible. She was a thirty-three-year-old single mom trying to keep the family business afloat and did not have time to be drooling over anyone. Least of all someone who’d paid them a fortune to learn their so-called secrets of success.
The last time she’d drooled over someone, she’d ended up with Killian. And though she wouldn’t trade her son for the world—he was her world after all—she wasn’t prepared for a repeat.
Not that the gorgeous black-haired man looking back at her with meltingly beautiful brown eyes would ever drool over her.
Undoubtedly, his last-minute guest was one of the female variety. He wouldn’t be the first of her guests with “companions” they preferred to keep discreet.
If they paid their fees and didn’t cause any damage to the property or her staff, who was Rory to judge?
Anyway, she never got involved with guests. Not that way. Especially guests who brokered deals with her father behind her back.
As she closed the distance between them, she made an effort to put on her usual greet-the-guests smile. “Good afternoon. Welcome to the Angel River Ranch.” She extended one of the tote bags fashioned with the ranch’s logo of unfurled wings superimposed over a curving river. “I’m Rory McAdams. I manage the property here. You must be—”
“Gage Stanton,” he said in a deep voice. The kind of voice that made shivers dance across a woman’s shoulders before slipping down her spine to points beyond.
Her practiced smile didn’t waver. “I’m glad you made it safely. Much longer and we would have been sending out a search party for you.” She wasn’t joking, though she said it lightly.
His perfectly molded lips tilted slightly. “Sorry about that.” He lifted his phone. “Would have called to let you know we’d be arriving later than planned, but—” A faint line appeared in his lean cheek as his smile deepened. “I keep forgetting that there are still places in the world where these barely work.”
The self-deprecating smile was almost enough to throw her.
Almost.
“You’re here now, so that’s what counts.” She looked toward the car. The front window was almost as heavily tinted as the side windows, and she could barely make out a slender figure with dark hair in the passenger seat. “Now let’s get you settled so you both can begin enjoying your stay.”
The developer opened his door and angled his head to look in at his companion. “Get moving.” His voice was short to the point of rude before he shut the door again with a decisive click.
Oh. Kay. Then.
She would be discreet about this guest if it choked her, but it would be even harder if the guy turned out to be a total jerk. No matter how much money he was paying them. On the other hand, if he was a jerk, he could learn all of Angel River’s secrets and he’d still fail, because nobody liked visiting a guest ranch that was being run by a jerk.
As if it were a weather vane, she felt her sympathy suddenly swing around in the direction of the man’s companion.
Stanton stepped forward and took the tote bag from her. His fingers barely grazed hers as he took the strap, but it was enough to make her shiver yet again.
Dang it all.
She deliberately moved away from him and crossed to the other side of the luxurious car.
“Good afternoon,” she said brightly as she pulled open the door for the poor woman inside. “Welcome to Angel River.”
But it wasn’t a woman who uncoiled herself from the seat.
It was a man.
Young.
Painfully thin.
He was almost as handsome as Gage, but in a less-finished way. And his face also had a distinctive pallor that reminded her of her father’s.
She felt her practiced smile soften, feeling even more sympathy. Man. Woman. What did it matter? Suffering was suffering.
“I’m Rory.” She extended her hand to him. “If there is anything I can do to make your stay here more enjoyable, all you have to do is say the word.”
He suddenly smiled. His eyes were blue. Set off by all that dark hair and stubbled jaw, they were quite striking. “Word,” he said and clasped her hand.
His fingers were cool. They did not send shivers down her spine.
“Give the woman back her hand, Noah.” Gage had moved around to open the trunk and was lifting out a small suitcase that looked brand-new and a second bag that looked anything but. “You’ll have to excuse my brother, Rory.” He pushed the trunk closed. “He obviously doesn’t know how to behave around a pretty woman.”