“Shame she had to fly all the way here to have you sign papers you could have faxed in.”
“You know Mom. A stickler for details.” Jake shook his head and hopped off the fence, his battered brown boots sinking into the soft dirt of the corral. “She wants the papers notarized and the assistant’s a notary.”
“Handy,” Ben said. “But then, your mom’s always been a thorough one.”
Thorough. And stubborn. There was a part of Jake that still didn’t believe his mother had given up on luring him back to Boston. But whether she had or not didn’t really matter, did it? He wasn’t going anywhere. Montana was his home. His sanctuary. Damned if he’d give it up.
* * *
Cassidy Moore’s hands hurt after an hour of gripping the steering wheel tightly enough to make her knuckles white. Driving up a mountain was more harrowing than she would have thought. Maybe if the narrow road had been straight rather than curved with the occasional sharp right-angle turn, it wouldn’t have been so bad. But those curves were there and so was the steep drop off the left side.
If she had known the kind of drive she was letting herself in for, she would have tried to rent a tank at the airport in Kalispell rather than the four-wheel-drive sedan she was currently driving.
“But then,” she told herself, “a tank never would have fit on this road.”
Seriously. The people who built the darn road couldn’t have made it a little wider? Every time another car came toward her, she winced in anticipation of a horrific crash. The only good thing about this drive was that it wasn’t the dead of winter. “Imagine dealing with this road in snow!”
Just the thought of that gave her cold chills. Ordinarily, she probably would have enjoyed this drive through the mountains, with the bright splashes of fall color on either side of her. But the threat of imminent death sort of took the fun out of it.
Cassidy was out of her element and she knew it. Born and raised in Boston, she had never been west of the Massachusetts border. She was used to busy highways, crowded streets and stoplights every block. In her world, tall buildings created shadowy canyons in the city and the sound of honking horns ensured there was never any quiet to be found. Still, she’d be fine. She was only here for the night, and tomorrow she’d be flying back to Boston with the signed paperwork her boss needed.
She pulled off the narrow road and followed a graveled drive up a sharp incline. When she came out from beneath the arch of trees, she simply stopped the car, turned off the engine and stared.
My son refuses to leave his little ranch, her boss had said. So you’ll have to go to him and get these papers signed.
Little ranch.
Shaking her head, Cassidy got out of the car, her heels shifting precariously on the gravel beneath her feet. She did a slow turn in place, letting her gaze sweep across her surroundings before finally coming back to land on the “little ranch.” There was nothing little about it. Granted, the only experience Cassidy had with ranches was what she’d seen on late-night movies. But this was no ordinary place. Jake Hunter’s home was a mountain palace.
Two stories tall, the main house was wood and glass, with floor-to-ceiling windows on each story that would provide a wide view of the lake below. Pine trees huddled close to the house, so that it looked as though it was actually a part of the landscape rather than an intrusion. There were other, smaller houses scattered across the property, no doubt for the employees who worked here. Lucky them, Cassidy thought, since she couldn’t imagine driving up and down that mountain every day for her commute. “Hello, young lady.”
Surprised at the deep voice coming from directly behind her, Cassidy spun around so quickly, one of her heels caught on the gravel and her balance went wobbly. The older man snapped one hand out to take her arm to steady her.
“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, giving her a slow smile.
He was in his seventies, but his eyes were sharp and clear and his skin was like old leather from years spent in the sun. His smile was warm and the chuckle beneath his words was kind.
“Sorry,” she said, holding one hand out. “I didn’t hear you come up. I’m Cassidy Moore.”
He took her hand in his and gave it a firm shake. “You’re Elise’s new assistant.” Nodding, he added, “I’m her father, Ben Hawkins.”
“She has your eyes.”
His smile got wider. “My eyes, but thankfully she got everything else from her mother, God rest her.” He took a step back and said, “You’re here to see my grandson.”