Unbridled, page 4
She was still dressed, which hopefully meant whatever cowboy brought her back to her room had been a gentleman. Or she’d done something really stupid and then re-dressed herself. Unlikely, considering she didn’t feel as though she’d had sex, but still a possibility.
Alex didn’t drink often and this was exactly why. She usually ended up doing something out of character, but this was beyond that. It had put her in danger and she hadn’t even been aware of it.
After making it to the shower, she stepped in and let the hot spray wake her up. The hangover wasn’t too bad; she was more tired than anything. Coffee would be the first priority after she got dressed.
As she dropped off the key, the desk clerk looked at her as if the young man knew what she’d done the night before. Alex again wondered exactly what had happened. It was frustrating to not remember.
“There a Starbucks anywhere in town?”
He looked at her blankly. “You mean that coffee place?”
Alex held on to her patience. “Yes, the coffee place.”
“No, we ain’t got Starbunkers. The café down the street serves breakfast, and their coffee is good.”
“Thanks.” With a smile she didn’t even remotely feel, Alex left the hotel.
The morning air was crisp, making her still-wet hair supercold against her face. It didn’t matter; she needed to keep herself up after the night of drinking and a day of nonstop driving. As she walked toward the Camaro, the Big Horn Mountains were suddenly there.
She stopped, struck by the beauty she had almost completely forgotten about. They were majestic—a corny word to use, but the one that fit. The peaks were already covered by snow and it was only the beginning of September.
Alex took a deep breath, realizing she was smelling nothing but air. No pollutants or car emissions, just plain old air. She sucked in another lungful before climbing in the car to head to the café.
If she was right, it was Talulah’s Café, a woman who had been a friend of her mother’s. Alex’s heart thumped at the memory of having Saturday lunch there with her mother every week. It wouldn’t be easy to walk back in, but seeing as how it was apparently the only place in town to get coffee, she didn’t have a choice.
Alex pulled into the parking lot and sat there for a few minutes, staring at the sign. No longer Talulah’s; the sign read LOBOS CAFÉ and had a multicolored wolf, similar to a Mexican Huichol, on it The outside had been a bright blue; now it was a desert brown with green trim.
Knowing Talulah wasn’t there actually made it easier to get out of the car. This would be the first place she entered that she’d been in before, albeit under a different owner. Her stomach clenched as she walked in the door and the bell tinkled merrily above her.
She was feeling far from merry that morning.
An older woman with blond hair liberally laced with gray smiled at her. “Table for one?”
“Large coffee with cream. To go.” Alex wasn’t ready to spend any amount of time in town yet, least of all in a place with so many memories of her mother. The table by the window had been their spot, and she couldn’t even bear to look at it, even if the table-cloths were different—hell, even the tables and chairs were different. Instead, she didn’t take her eyes off the waitress.
“A good breakfast goes a long way. Are you sure you just want coffee?” The waitress eyed her as if Alex were a friend of her daughter’s she needed to take care of.
“My stomach couldn’t handle anything but coffee right now, but thanks.” Her smile was shaky but she managed one anyway.
“Okay, wait right here and I’ll get it for you.” The waitress went behind the counter and began pouring the coffee.
Alex told herself not to take her gaze off the woman. She didn’t need another challenge that morning; going to the ranch would be hard enough. But it was as if there were a train wreck to her left and she could barely keep from turning her head.
“Here you go, honey. That’ll be a dollar sixty-five.”
Alex started at the sound of the other woman’s voice, unaware the waitress had returned. “Oh, yeah, wait just a sec.” She fumbled with her purse, pulling out a crumpled five-dollar bill from the pocket inside. “Keep the change.”
Although she could hardly afford to give away a dime much less three dollars, Alex needed to get out of there. Immediately.
“I can’t take a three-dollar tip for coffee.” The waitress was still protesting as Alex took the cup from her and smiled.
“No worries. I’m sure it’s good coffee.” She got out of the restaurant, and its memories, as fast as she could without spilling hot brew down her arm. Jesus, she didn’t imagine it would be so hard to actually be there, but the café was something she’d forgotten. Until she’d walked in the door and a flood of memories assaulted her.
It proved too much for Alex, running on no coffee and a slight hangover. She left the restaurant shaking and feeling as though she’d just survived an Iron Man challenge. What the hell was up with that? Honestly, she hadn’t expected such a strong reaction, but the café had been the place she and her mother had gone alone. The special place they had gone each Saturday for as long as Alex could remember.
If only there were a Starbucks in town. Alex knew she would have to get used to the slower pace of life, the lack of amenities and instant gratification of L.A. Maybe if she hadn’t gotten drunk and passed out the night before, it wouldn’t have hit her so hard.
She leaned against the side of the Camaro and took deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart and actually get her composure back. No need for the world to see her falling apart, because she knew sure as a bear shit in the woods that some polite neighborly patron would stop to help her. That was how it was in the country, in small-town America. She could almost hear someone approaching and straightened up.
And, of course, spilled hot coffee down her arm.
“Fuck me.” She switched the coffee to her other hand and shook off the burning-hot liquid. After wiping her arm on her pants and vowing to put something on the burn later, she got into the car.
It felt safe in there; the leather seats were familiar and welcoming. Even the violet appeared to welcome her presence. Perhaps because the car had experienced David’s touch, his care applied to it for so long. He’d told her it was the first car he’d purchased, at age eighteen, and he’d vowed never to sell it. Alex would keep that vow alive for him and hang on to it for her natural life as well.
After a moment, she was able to take a sip of the coffee without risk of more grievous injury. The hot liquid splashed down her throat like the nectar of the gods. It was damn good coffee too—enough to rival the big chains with its flavor. She decided it would be a good idea to sit tight until it was gone.
The windows in the car began to fog up either from her heavy breathing or the hot coffee. She grumbled as she rolled the window down, recognizing that electric windows were something to be treasured if she ever had a car with them. The cold breeze hit her wet hair again and she shivered as if a hand had reached out and caressed her.
She wanted to believe it was her mother, that Katie Finley had been waiting for her daughter to return. To make peace with all she’d left behind ten years earlier. Alex closed her eyes and wished like hell it were true. She could use her mother’s support and help right about then.
Of course, it was just the wind. Regardless, she left the windows up as she gulped the last of the coffee. But it felt comforting even to pretend it was her mother’s hand stroking her hair.
Alex spotted a trash can in front of the diner and hopped out to throw away the cup, as well as the rest of the trash that had accumulated in the passenger seat of the car.
“Wow, that’s a pretty ride you’ve got there, miss.” The man’s voice didn’t startle her, but it sincerely pissed her off. How many men would hit on her because of the goddamn car?
She turned to tell whoever it was to fuck off and found an older man with snow-white hair and a cane. “Oh, uh, well, thanks.”
The man never took his eyes off the Camaro. “Had one myself back in the day. Loved that damn car so much my wife made me sell it.” He chuckled to himself. “She thought maybe I loved it more than her.”
“Did you?” Alex couldn’t help but ask. Sometimes she thought David had that kind of relationship with the damn thing too.
The man finally turned to look at her. She saw longing and loneliness in his watery blue gaze. “No, but the love I gave her was never enough no matter what car I had. She left me back in ’seventy-four and I ain’t found a good car since.”
With that strange remark he shuffled toward the diner. Alex wanted to ask him what that meant, but decided she didn’t need any more bizarre conversations that morning.
She hopped into the car and started it. The roar of the engine made the old man stop and cock his head to listen. Alex gunned it and she swore he smiled. She felt good about making at least one person happy that day. God knew she wasn’t going to experience that emotion for quite some time.
With more than a small amount of trepidation, she pulled out of the parking lot and headed north. Toward the confrontation with her father. Toward the final obstacle in her quest for happiness. Toward home.
The road was so familiar, she felt the ache in her throat grow tighter the closer she got. When she saw a huge black mailbox that read FINLEY’S RANCH, her stomach flipped upside down, throwing some bitter coffee back up. The bile burned her throat but she swallowed it back down and turned down the long driveway.
It was more than a mile until she got to the house, so she had time to try to regain control of her runaway emotions. She had known it would be difficult when she finally got there, but this was excruciatingly hard. Ten years ago, she’d been a scared, angry kid when she’d left. Now she was a woman and had to remember to act like an adult and do what she needed to.
Easier said than done, of course.
When she saw a sign that read REGISTRATION, at first she thought it had been a mistake. Then she saw a second one that read GUEST PARKING.
What the hell?
By the time she crested the long, sloping hill, the sight that greeted her knocked the breath from her lungs. No longer comprised of a simple ranch house and a barn, there were at least fifteen cabins now situated behind the house and a second, much larger barn.
A paved parking lot was on the left with nicely divided spaces. Like a robot, she pulled into one and cut the engine. Her heart pounded so hard, her ears hurt from the sound of the blood rushing past them.
Her family’s home had been turned into a dude ranch, a goddamn dude ranch. Holy ever-loving shit. There were at least a couple dozen dude ranches in Wyoming, some as old as a hundred years. She never expected her father to do the same. Their property was only about five thousand acres total, but it was apparently large enough to build a bunch of cabins and suck some city folk into riding horses and fishing.
Her mother had worked so hard to keep from renting rooms, and her father had done something else completely unthinkable. Another betrayal to Katie Finley’s memory and her wish to maintain the ranch as a home, not a hotel.
Jesus Christ.
She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the steering wheel until she felt more in control of her reaction. It shouldn’t really matter if her childhood home was a dude ranch, or guest ranch, the more PC term. She had come to talk to her father and address the issues that had been weighing her down, preventing her from living life fully. Until she did that, she wasn’t going to be happy.
She told herself she wouldn’t even ask her father about the damn guest ranch. It wasn’t her business anymore and it didn’t even matter. What mattered was just talking to him.
It took every smidge of courage she could drag from the depths of her soul to get out of the car and walk down to the sign that read MAIN OFFICE. Or, as she remembered it, the front door to the house.
A few people smiled and said hello as she walked past them. Her heart thundered with each step she took and her mouth dried out until she forgot what spit tasted like. Her hand shook as she pulled the huge mahogany door open and walked in.
Connor tried to focus on the reservations on the computer screen, but his mind kept wandering to the woman from the bar. She’d had such sadness in her eyes, something he could relate to. However, it was the anger he remembered more—she had a deep fury within her that had its talons dug deep. That was where he could completely relate. Once upon a time he’d spent a good deal of time being angry at the world. It was tough to shake.
Of course, he also kept thinking about her lips and those damn eyes. She was like sin incarnate for him, all curves and no sharp angles. He liked women who weren’t emaciated and whose ribs didn’t threaten to poke an eye out. This woman, she had it all going on with breasts the size of cantaloupes ripe for picking, curvy hips he could trace with his tongue, and an ass that still made his dick twitch.
Oh yeah, she was definitely a lot of woman and exactly his type. Too bad she got drunk in hotel bars and passed out while trying to seduce strangers. It was a good thing Connor had a conscience and knew wrong from right, or she’d have woken up with more than a hangover.
Then again, it was a shame she had gotten so drunk that she had passed out. His own body reacted, yet again, to the memory of the mystery woman, and it was all he could do to tell his semierect Johnson to cool it.
A knock at the door was the last thing he needed.
“Yes?” he called out, annoyed with himself more than with whoever was knocking at his office door.
The door opened and Jennifer poked her head in. She was the daughter of Henry Avila, the head of landscaping, and a good kid. When not in school, she worked at the front desk to make money for her college tuition. This time her normally bright smile was gone. She frowned and her gaze was full of trepidation.
“What’s the matter?”
“There’s a woman out here asking for Grant.”
The mention of his business partner, friend, and mentor still made his heart clench. It had been two years since Grant’s death. Connor had finally moved past the pain of losing the man who had helped shape him into the person he was. The memory of the day they buried Grant would be with him for a very long time. He hoped whoever the woman was, she hadn’t been close to Grant. Connor didn’t like being the bearer of bad news—he sure as hell didn’t know how to be sympathetic to a stranger’s grief.
“Okay, no problem. I’ll be right there.” Fortunately or not, the interruption had actually cured his semiarousal. He needed to stay focused on work and not on the drunken fish that got away.
He left his hat on the desk and walked out of the office. As he stepped down the hallway, he smiled at the pictures lining the walls. They’d build the guest ranch as a family; each cabin that had gone up was proudly displayed with a group photo of the staff. Grant had done his best to make sure the Finley Ranch was a place filled with love, no matter whose blood ran through your veins.
As Connor entered the great room that served as the lobby, he nearly went back into his office. There stood the woman from the bar with her back to him. He glanced around but there was no one else there. Jennifer pointed at her, then left the room. Jesus, the woman had followed him somehow and thought he was Grant. That was a sticky situation.
“Good morning.”
She jumped at the sound of his voice and turned to look at him. This morning she wore a pair of nicely fitted jeans, a deep purple blouse and her hair up in some kind of knot on the top of her head. He was again struck by the depth of her blue eyes, deep and fathomless. This time instead of anger, he saw a deep sadness and confusion.
“I know you.”
He went over and leaned against the check-in desk. “We met at the hotel last night.”
Her cheeks colored slightly. “Ah, yeah, that’s why you seem familiar. I, um, don’t normally even drink, much less get toasted on two drinks in a hotel bar.” She glanced at her feet, which he noted were encased in the same pair of fancy ankle boots that wouldn’t last two seconds outside. “Was it you who brought me to my room?”
Nice to know he was memorable. “Yes, it was me. I was glad to help. Is there something I can help you with today?” Connor sensed she was genuinely distressed about something and wanted to be anyplace but right there. He’d never actually had a stalker before, if that was what she was. Of course the memory of her lips, of those fantastic tits pressed against his chest, made him a bit distracted.
“I’m looking for Grant F-Finley.” She threw back her shoulders as if girding herself for battle, but her voice shook.
Ah, yes, she was looking for Grant. The name snapped him back to reality. “And you are?”
“Oh, sorry; I feel like such a dunce. I’m Alex Finley, Grant’s daughter.” The word daughter got stuck in her throat and sounded more like a croak than a word.
It was a word, however, that hit Connor square between the eyes.
Holy fucking shit.
This was Grant’s daughter? The one the attorney couldn’t find? The one Connor hadn’t known existed until after his best friend’s death? The earth shifted just a bit under his feet as he scrambled to figure out what to say to her. After knowing Grant almost eight years, Connor was still shocked he hadn’t known about the existence of the other man’s daughter. Where the hell had she been?
“Is there a problem?” Her brows drew together. “Is he not here?”
“Ma’am, why don’t we sit over here?” He gestured to the sofa and two wing chairs in front of the fireplace. The homey scene did nothing to relieve his shock or stress. What the hell was he supposed to say? Any way he got it out, it was going to sound bad.
She didn’t look too happy about it, but she sat stiffly on the edge of the left-hand chair. Connor sat on the sofa and put his elbows on his knees.
“Let me start by telling you who I am.”
“That’d be helpful.” Her soft murmur told him she had a sarcastic streak he didn’t expect.
“My name is Connor Matthews and I run Finley’s Ranch. Grant Finley was my boss and friend. We built the guest ranch together.” He cleared his throat and tried to think of a way not to look at her, but her gaze was like a damn magnet. “Grant, ah, unfortunately was killed in a car accident two years ago.”
Alex didn’t drink often and this was exactly why. She usually ended up doing something out of character, but this was beyond that. It had put her in danger and she hadn’t even been aware of it.
After making it to the shower, she stepped in and let the hot spray wake her up. The hangover wasn’t too bad; she was more tired than anything. Coffee would be the first priority after she got dressed.
As she dropped off the key, the desk clerk looked at her as if the young man knew what she’d done the night before. Alex again wondered exactly what had happened. It was frustrating to not remember.
“There a Starbucks anywhere in town?”
He looked at her blankly. “You mean that coffee place?”
Alex held on to her patience. “Yes, the coffee place.”
“No, we ain’t got Starbunkers. The café down the street serves breakfast, and their coffee is good.”
“Thanks.” With a smile she didn’t even remotely feel, Alex left the hotel.
The morning air was crisp, making her still-wet hair supercold against her face. It didn’t matter; she needed to keep herself up after the night of drinking and a day of nonstop driving. As she walked toward the Camaro, the Big Horn Mountains were suddenly there.
She stopped, struck by the beauty she had almost completely forgotten about. They were majestic—a corny word to use, but the one that fit. The peaks were already covered by snow and it was only the beginning of September.
Alex took a deep breath, realizing she was smelling nothing but air. No pollutants or car emissions, just plain old air. She sucked in another lungful before climbing in the car to head to the café.
If she was right, it was Talulah’s Café, a woman who had been a friend of her mother’s. Alex’s heart thumped at the memory of having Saturday lunch there with her mother every week. It wouldn’t be easy to walk back in, but seeing as how it was apparently the only place in town to get coffee, she didn’t have a choice.
Alex pulled into the parking lot and sat there for a few minutes, staring at the sign. No longer Talulah’s; the sign read LOBOS CAFÉ and had a multicolored wolf, similar to a Mexican Huichol, on it The outside had been a bright blue; now it was a desert brown with green trim.
Knowing Talulah wasn’t there actually made it easier to get out of the car. This would be the first place she entered that she’d been in before, albeit under a different owner. Her stomach clenched as she walked in the door and the bell tinkled merrily above her.
She was feeling far from merry that morning.
An older woman with blond hair liberally laced with gray smiled at her. “Table for one?”
“Large coffee with cream. To go.” Alex wasn’t ready to spend any amount of time in town yet, least of all in a place with so many memories of her mother. The table by the window had been their spot, and she couldn’t even bear to look at it, even if the table-cloths were different—hell, even the tables and chairs were different. Instead, she didn’t take her eyes off the waitress.
“A good breakfast goes a long way. Are you sure you just want coffee?” The waitress eyed her as if Alex were a friend of her daughter’s she needed to take care of.
“My stomach couldn’t handle anything but coffee right now, but thanks.” Her smile was shaky but she managed one anyway.
“Okay, wait right here and I’ll get it for you.” The waitress went behind the counter and began pouring the coffee.
Alex told herself not to take her gaze off the woman. She didn’t need another challenge that morning; going to the ranch would be hard enough. But it was as if there were a train wreck to her left and she could barely keep from turning her head.
“Here you go, honey. That’ll be a dollar sixty-five.”
Alex started at the sound of the other woman’s voice, unaware the waitress had returned. “Oh, yeah, wait just a sec.” She fumbled with her purse, pulling out a crumpled five-dollar bill from the pocket inside. “Keep the change.”
Although she could hardly afford to give away a dime much less three dollars, Alex needed to get out of there. Immediately.
“I can’t take a three-dollar tip for coffee.” The waitress was still protesting as Alex took the cup from her and smiled.
“No worries. I’m sure it’s good coffee.” She got out of the restaurant, and its memories, as fast as she could without spilling hot brew down her arm. Jesus, she didn’t imagine it would be so hard to actually be there, but the café was something she’d forgotten. Until she’d walked in the door and a flood of memories assaulted her.
It proved too much for Alex, running on no coffee and a slight hangover. She left the restaurant shaking and feeling as though she’d just survived an Iron Man challenge. What the hell was up with that? Honestly, she hadn’t expected such a strong reaction, but the café had been the place she and her mother had gone alone. The special place they had gone each Saturday for as long as Alex could remember.
If only there were a Starbucks in town. Alex knew she would have to get used to the slower pace of life, the lack of amenities and instant gratification of L.A. Maybe if she hadn’t gotten drunk and passed out the night before, it wouldn’t have hit her so hard.
She leaned against the side of the Camaro and took deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart and actually get her composure back. No need for the world to see her falling apart, because she knew sure as a bear shit in the woods that some polite neighborly patron would stop to help her. That was how it was in the country, in small-town America. She could almost hear someone approaching and straightened up.
And, of course, spilled hot coffee down her arm.
“Fuck me.” She switched the coffee to her other hand and shook off the burning-hot liquid. After wiping her arm on her pants and vowing to put something on the burn later, she got into the car.
It felt safe in there; the leather seats were familiar and welcoming. Even the violet appeared to welcome her presence. Perhaps because the car had experienced David’s touch, his care applied to it for so long. He’d told her it was the first car he’d purchased, at age eighteen, and he’d vowed never to sell it. Alex would keep that vow alive for him and hang on to it for her natural life as well.
After a moment, she was able to take a sip of the coffee without risk of more grievous injury. The hot liquid splashed down her throat like the nectar of the gods. It was damn good coffee too—enough to rival the big chains with its flavor. She decided it would be a good idea to sit tight until it was gone.
The windows in the car began to fog up either from her heavy breathing or the hot coffee. She grumbled as she rolled the window down, recognizing that electric windows were something to be treasured if she ever had a car with them. The cold breeze hit her wet hair again and she shivered as if a hand had reached out and caressed her.
She wanted to believe it was her mother, that Katie Finley had been waiting for her daughter to return. To make peace with all she’d left behind ten years earlier. Alex closed her eyes and wished like hell it were true. She could use her mother’s support and help right about then.
Of course, it was just the wind. Regardless, she left the windows up as she gulped the last of the coffee. But it felt comforting even to pretend it was her mother’s hand stroking her hair.
Alex spotted a trash can in front of the diner and hopped out to throw away the cup, as well as the rest of the trash that had accumulated in the passenger seat of the car.
“Wow, that’s a pretty ride you’ve got there, miss.” The man’s voice didn’t startle her, but it sincerely pissed her off. How many men would hit on her because of the goddamn car?
She turned to tell whoever it was to fuck off and found an older man with snow-white hair and a cane. “Oh, uh, well, thanks.”
The man never took his eyes off the Camaro. “Had one myself back in the day. Loved that damn car so much my wife made me sell it.” He chuckled to himself. “She thought maybe I loved it more than her.”
“Did you?” Alex couldn’t help but ask. Sometimes she thought David had that kind of relationship with the damn thing too.
The man finally turned to look at her. She saw longing and loneliness in his watery blue gaze. “No, but the love I gave her was never enough no matter what car I had. She left me back in ’seventy-four and I ain’t found a good car since.”
With that strange remark he shuffled toward the diner. Alex wanted to ask him what that meant, but decided she didn’t need any more bizarre conversations that morning.
She hopped into the car and started it. The roar of the engine made the old man stop and cock his head to listen. Alex gunned it and she swore he smiled. She felt good about making at least one person happy that day. God knew she wasn’t going to experience that emotion for quite some time.
With more than a small amount of trepidation, she pulled out of the parking lot and headed north. Toward the confrontation with her father. Toward the final obstacle in her quest for happiness. Toward home.
The road was so familiar, she felt the ache in her throat grow tighter the closer she got. When she saw a huge black mailbox that read FINLEY’S RANCH, her stomach flipped upside down, throwing some bitter coffee back up. The bile burned her throat but she swallowed it back down and turned down the long driveway.
It was more than a mile until she got to the house, so she had time to try to regain control of her runaway emotions. She had known it would be difficult when she finally got there, but this was excruciatingly hard. Ten years ago, she’d been a scared, angry kid when she’d left. Now she was a woman and had to remember to act like an adult and do what she needed to.
Easier said than done, of course.
When she saw a sign that read REGISTRATION, at first she thought it had been a mistake. Then she saw a second one that read GUEST PARKING.
What the hell?
By the time she crested the long, sloping hill, the sight that greeted her knocked the breath from her lungs. No longer comprised of a simple ranch house and a barn, there were at least fifteen cabins now situated behind the house and a second, much larger barn.
A paved parking lot was on the left with nicely divided spaces. Like a robot, she pulled into one and cut the engine. Her heart pounded so hard, her ears hurt from the sound of the blood rushing past them.
Her family’s home had been turned into a dude ranch, a goddamn dude ranch. Holy ever-loving shit. There were at least a couple dozen dude ranches in Wyoming, some as old as a hundred years. She never expected her father to do the same. Their property was only about five thousand acres total, but it was apparently large enough to build a bunch of cabins and suck some city folk into riding horses and fishing.
Her mother had worked so hard to keep from renting rooms, and her father had done something else completely unthinkable. Another betrayal to Katie Finley’s memory and her wish to maintain the ranch as a home, not a hotel.
Jesus Christ.
She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the steering wheel until she felt more in control of her reaction. It shouldn’t really matter if her childhood home was a dude ranch, or guest ranch, the more PC term. She had come to talk to her father and address the issues that had been weighing her down, preventing her from living life fully. Until she did that, she wasn’t going to be happy.
She told herself she wouldn’t even ask her father about the damn guest ranch. It wasn’t her business anymore and it didn’t even matter. What mattered was just talking to him.
It took every smidge of courage she could drag from the depths of her soul to get out of the car and walk down to the sign that read MAIN OFFICE. Or, as she remembered it, the front door to the house.
A few people smiled and said hello as she walked past them. Her heart thundered with each step she took and her mouth dried out until she forgot what spit tasted like. Her hand shook as she pulled the huge mahogany door open and walked in.
Connor tried to focus on the reservations on the computer screen, but his mind kept wandering to the woman from the bar. She’d had such sadness in her eyes, something he could relate to. However, it was the anger he remembered more—she had a deep fury within her that had its talons dug deep. That was where he could completely relate. Once upon a time he’d spent a good deal of time being angry at the world. It was tough to shake.
Of course, he also kept thinking about her lips and those damn eyes. She was like sin incarnate for him, all curves and no sharp angles. He liked women who weren’t emaciated and whose ribs didn’t threaten to poke an eye out. This woman, she had it all going on with breasts the size of cantaloupes ripe for picking, curvy hips he could trace with his tongue, and an ass that still made his dick twitch.
Oh yeah, she was definitely a lot of woman and exactly his type. Too bad she got drunk in hotel bars and passed out while trying to seduce strangers. It was a good thing Connor had a conscience and knew wrong from right, or she’d have woken up with more than a hangover.
Then again, it was a shame she had gotten so drunk that she had passed out. His own body reacted, yet again, to the memory of the mystery woman, and it was all he could do to tell his semierect Johnson to cool it.
A knock at the door was the last thing he needed.
“Yes?” he called out, annoyed with himself more than with whoever was knocking at his office door.
The door opened and Jennifer poked her head in. She was the daughter of Henry Avila, the head of landscaping, and a good kid. When not in school, she worked at the front desk to make money for her college tuition. This time her normally bright smile was gone. She frowned and her gaze was full of trepidation.
“What’s the matter?”
“There’s a woman out here asking for Grant.”
The mention of his business partner, friend, and mentor still made his heart clench. It had been two years since Grant’s death. Connor had finally moved past the pain of losing the man who had helped shape him into the person he was. The memory of the day they buried Grant would be with him for a very long time. He hoped whoever the woman was, she hadn’t been close to Grant. Connor didn’t like being the bearer of bad news—he sure as hell didn’t know how to be sympathetic to a stranger’s grief.
“Okay, no problem. I’ll be right there.” Fortunately or not, the interruption had actually cured his semiarousal. He needed to stay focused on work and not on the drunken fish that got away.
He left his hat on the desk and walked out of the office. As he stepped down the hallway, he smiled at the pictures lining the walls. They’d build the guest ranch as a family; each cabin that had gone up was proudly displayed with a group photo of the staff. Grant had done his best to make sure the Finley Ranch was a place filled with love, no matter whose blood ran through your veins.
As Connor entered the great room that served as the lobby, he nearly went back into his office. There stood the woman from the bar with her back to him. He glanced around but there was no one else there. Jennifer pointed at her, then left the room. Jesus, the woman had followed him somehow and thought he was Grant. That was a sticky situation.
“Good morning.”
She jumped at the sound of his voice and turned to look at him. This morning she wore a pair of nicely fitted jeans, a deep purple blouse and her hair up in some kind of knot on the top of her head. He was again struck by the depth of her blue eyes, deep and fathomless. This time instead of anger, he saw a deep sadness and confusion.
“I know you.”
He went over and leaned against the check-in desk. “We met at the hotel last night.”
Her cheeks colored slightly. “Ah, yeah, that’s why you seem familiar. I, um, don’t normally even drink, much less get toasted on two drinks in a hotel bar.” She glanced at her feet, which he noted were encased in the same pair of fancy ankle boots that wouldn’t last two seconds outside. “Was it you who brought me to my room?”
Nice to know he was memorable. “Yes, it was me. I was glad to help. Is there something I can help you with today?” Connor sensed she was genuinely distressed about something and wanted to be anyplace but right there. He’d never actually had a stalker before, if that was what she was. Of course the memory of her lips, of those fantastic tits pressed against his chest, made him a bit distracted.
“I’m looking for Grant F-Finley.” She threw back her shoulders as if girding herself for battle, but her voice shook.
Ah, yes, she was looking for Grant. The name snapped him back to reality. “And you are?”
“Oh, sorry; I feel like such a dunce. I’m Alex Finley, Grant’s daughter.” The word daughter got stuck in her throat and sounded more like a croak than a word.
It was a word, however, that hit Connor square between the eyes.
Holy fucking shit.
This was Grant’s daughter? The one the attorney couldn’t find? The one Connor hadn’t known existed until after his best friend’s death? The earth shifted just a bit under his feet as he scrambled to figure out what to say to her. After knowing Grant almost eight years, Connor was still shocked he hadn’t known about the existence of the other man’s daughter. Where the hell had she been?
“Is there a problem?” Her brows drew together. “Is he not here?”
“Ma’am, why don’t we sit over here?” He gestured to the sofa and two wing chairs in front of the fireplace. The homey scene did nothing to relieve his shock or stress. What the hell was he supposed to say? Any way he got it out, it was going to sound bad.
She didn’t look too happy about it, but she sat stiffly on the edge of the left-hand chair. Connor sat on the sofa and put his elbows on his knees.
“Let me start by telling you who I am.”
“That’d be helpful.” Her soft murmur told him she had a sarcastic streak he didn’t expect.
“My name is Connor Matthews and I run Finley’s Ranch. Grant Finley was my boss and friend. We built the guest ranch together.” He cleared his throat and tried to think of a way not to look at her, but her gaze was like a damn magnet. “Grant, ah, unfortunately was killed in a car accident two years ago.”
