Reunited with the Lassiter Bride

“I think he’s trying to help.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“Yours, absolutely. I’m just wondering why else he’d do it.”

“It’s a compulsion. Do you know how many times I wanted to call him up over the past six months and tell him he was crazy?” Angelica couldn’t seem to stop herself from smiling at the memory. “I still had spies, you know. My dad might have taken me out of the CEO chair, but many people were loyal. They told me what Evan was doing with the British network purchase, then the Australian one. He spent a whole lot of corporate money in a very short time.”

Lighting flashed and thunder boomed all around the house as the storm increased in intensity. Footsteps sounded on the stairs and on the floor below, and muffled voices sounded in the foyer. It would be all hands on deck outside.

It was coming up on 3:00 a.m. In another hour or so, Marlene would get up and start cooking in the kitchen; she’d be ready with food for anyone who needed sustenance. Angelica would go down to help. In addition to their efforts in the main house, the cook shack would already be humming with activity. Cowboys needed plenty of coffee, eggs, sausage and biscuits to keep them going in this.

“Was he wrong?” Tiffany asked.

“Hmmm?”

“Was Evan wrong to buy the networks?”

“I thought so then. And I’m still worried. But right or wrong, it is what it is. We now own those affiliates, and we need to do the best we can within that reality.”

“Do you think he had a long-term vision?”

“What I think is that he’s an empire builder. Even Lassiter Media wasn’t big enough for him. He had to try to increase the size.”

“I think he likes you.”

The unexpected comment threw Angelica. “What?”

“I was watching him watch you tonight. I think he’s still attracted to you.”

“Physically maybe.” Physically, Angelica still had it bad for Evan.

“Did he kiss you again?”

Angelica debated how much to tell Tiffany.

“Angie?”

“He kissed me again.” She tippy-toed up to the truth.

“When? Where?”

“On the patio. Last night.”

“Did you like it?”

Angelica hung her head and gave a sigh of defeat. “I always like it.”

“How many times has it happened now?”

“Twice. Well, three times. Four if you count the one at the fitting.”

Tiffany leaned in. “Big kisses? Small kisses? Give me some context here.”

Angelica looked up. She realized she didn’t want to lie or hold back. “Big kisses. Lots of them. So many that I lost count.”

Tiffany’s brows shot up.

“Especially last night. A dozen, a hundred, I don’t know.”

Tiffany’s voice rose. “A hundred?”

“Shhh.”

“I don’t think they can hear me over the thunder. A hundred?”

“We had sex.” It felt good to blurt it out.

Tiffany blinked. “You don’t mean last night.”

“I do.”

Tiffany opened her mouth, then she closed it again. Thunder rumbled ominously.

“I know. I know.” Angelica waved away the inevitable criticism. “It was a colossally stupid thing to do.”

“I’m stunned.”

“So was I.”

“You...like...I mean...how...?”

“I’m weak,” Angelica confessed. “He’s a good-looking, sexy guy. And it’s been a very long time since anyone held me close. And it was so easy, so familiar, so...unbelievably good.” She fisted her hands around her quilt and squeezed in frustration.

“Uh oh.”

“You have a gift for understatement.”

“So, now what?”

“Now, nothing. We agreed to forget it ever happened.”

“And how’s that working for you?”

“Not well,” Angelica admitted. “I didn’t fall in love with him because he was a jerk. He’s a good guy. We might not have been able to survive everything that came at us. But they were extraordinary circumstances. And, truth is, I don’t know that he did all that much wrong.”

Tiffany stretched out on her stomach on the far side of the bed, propping her elbows on the mattress and her chin on her hands. “You ever think about trying this reconciliation for real?”

“No. No. Not at all. Too much has happened, Tiff. When push came to shove, I—” Angelica swallowed, suddenly afraid she might cry. “I let him down.” She drew a shaky breath. “He won’t forgive me. He can’t forgive me.”

“Maybe you should—”

“No!” Angelica gave an adamant shake of her head. “I missed my chance with Evan. I’ve got Lassiter Media to think about now. It’s going to take all of my focus. I’m not going to delude myself into dreaming about anything else.”

“I suppose.” Tiffany’s agreement seemed reluctant.

There was a banging on the door.

“Angelica?” This time, it was Deke.

“Come in,” she called.

Deke swung the door wide. “I just talked to Evan. He said to tell you they’re sandbagging Williams Creek.”

Angelica rolled off the bed and came to her feet. “Are they worried about the road?”

Deke nodded.

“It hasn’t flooded there in years.” While she talked, she pulled open a drawer and threw a sweatshirt on.

“It’s risen two feet at Norman Crossing.”

“What do we do?” asked Tiffany from behind her.

Angelica tossed her a warm shirt. “We can go help sandbag. Last time this happened, the only way we could get to town for over a week was by off-road, four-wheel drive.”

* * *

Evan couldn’t help but be impressed by the way the Cheyenne ranchers pulled together in a time of crisis. There were at least fifty people out in the pouring rain, and they’d been working at it for hours. Men, women and teenagers lined the creek bank, filling bags from the back of a pickup then moving them in human chains to the low section of the road where it paralleled the creek.

Evan was working with Deke and Chance at the leading edge of the barrier, stacking the largest sandbags in a base layer, while Angie worked in a small group farther upstream, finishing off the top layer. Even from here, she looked exhausted. Her raincoat was plastered to her body. The hood had long since fallen down, and her hair was dark and stringy, making her face look pale.

He longed to go to her, pull her into her arms and escort her someplace warm and dry. But he knew she wouldn’t stop working. Many of the women had already taken breaks, including Tiffany, who’d all but fallen over before one of the ranchers had dragged her off to sit on the hillside and drink a cup of coffee. But Angie hadn’t slowed down. She’d been plugging away, sandbag after sandbag.

Refocusing, he went back to work, building the foundational layer, making sure it was solid.

When he looked up again, Angie was farther upstream. She seemed to be on her own, doing a final check of the barrier’s integrity. The others were making their way back.

Evan was reminded that the woman he’d first met at a social event, then came to know in the boardroom and escorted to L.A.’s hotspots, had also spent a good deal of her life on a working ranch. She was used to physical work, and would step in and help out wherever she was needed. He stopped feeling sorry for her, and started being impressed.

Chance suddenly grasped Evan’s arm, squeezing it tight. “Do you hear that?” he called out, drawing Deke’s attention as well.

Evan listened. His heart sank. A low, ominous rumble was coming from upstream.

“Get back! Quick!” Chance shouted to everyone, urging people to run. “Across the road! Up the bank! Everybody move, now!”

Deke echoed the call, as did Evan, rushing along the creek, ordering everyone back from the bank. The sound was growing louder, and Evan could see a roiling flood of water and debris barreling down on them.

“Angie!” he cried out.

She was the farthest away, cut off from safety by the curve of the creek and a grove of trees. She was running toward him, and he broke into a faster sprint along the rocky bank.

“Go,” she cried out to him, motioning for him to get to safety. “I’m coming.”

But she wasn’t fast enough. He could see the water rushing up behind her.

“Run,” he cried out to her, pumping up his own speed.

Then she tripped. She went down on the rocks, and his heart stopped in his chest. While she lay motionless, everything inside him screamed in agony.

“Angie!”

Eight

Evan had thirty feet to go to get to her, then twenty, then ten.

She sat up and rose unsteadily to her feet.

He finally reached her, wrapped an arm firmly around her waist, all but carrying her as they headed for the road and the safety of the bank beyond. Fifty sets of eyes were riveted to their progress.

“My shoulder,” she gasped.

“Hang on.” There wasn’t a second to lose.

Chance started toward them, but then he looked past Evan, and his face turned ashen. Evan knew exactly what the other man was seeing—soupy, gray water laced with rocks, tree trunks and branches about to overtake them. It wasn’t humanly possible to outrun it.

Quickly changing tactics, he hauled Angie to the nearest tree. He grabbed her thighs and hoisted her up as high as he could reach.