| me is between us.” Mitchell looked sick. “I just don’t want to see you make a fool of yourself again. Don’t you remember how much he hurt you? How he left without one word? How he and Colton accused Dad of murder? Murder!” “No one actually said—” “If it hadn’t been for John McLean, Dad would have been strung up by his heels. Colton and Denver would have seen to it.” “But it didn’t happen, did it? John gave Dad a chance.” “And now you’re giving Denver one.” Mitchell’s hands were actually shaking when he shoved his hair from his eyes. “I can’t tell you what to do, Tessa. I never could. But for God’s sake, be careful. I wouldn’t trust Denver McLean any more than I would a nest of rattlesnakes.” “I’ll remember that.” Mitchell scraped his chair back. “While you’re remembering, don’t forget that McLean’s been in L.A. a long time. You think he’s been without a woman all that time?” “I don’t really care.” One golden eyebrow arched as Mitchell said, “No? Well, think about it, Tessa. All of a sudden, he’s interested in you. So what happened to the past seven years? Why hasn’t he called, written or stopped by? All that time while his uncle was dying, he didn’t so much as write one goddamn note.” “He didn’t know about John.” “He wasn’t too interested, was he?” Tessa wanted to defend Denver but didn’t. What was the point? Mitchell’s mind was set. He couldn’t |
smell of smoke and the crackle of flames had clouded the clear air and altered the course of their lives forever. The road gave way to a clearing, and he parked, switching off the lights. Only the moon and stars illuminated the night, turning the dry grass opalescent. Two small shacks, sagging now from disuse, were the last reminders of the silver that had existed only in John McLean’s dreams. Denver climbed out of the car and stretched, rubbing his shoulder muscles. Tessa joined him. “What is it they say about never going back?” she asked, hoping to sound lighthearted though her heart continued to beat unevenly. “If they’re talking about L.A., they’re wrong.” He strode swiftly through the stubble, ignoring the rambling blackberry vines and weeds clutching at his pants. He made his way up a short path to the ridge. She scrambled after him. “I was talking about coming back here.” A bramble pulled at her skirt, a branch tugged at her hair, but she closed the distance, catching Denver just at the edge of the cliff. Majestic pines towered high overhead, their long needled branches soughing in the soft summer breeze. And the valley floor, in contrast to the dark trees, shifted restlessly under the moonlight. Cattle dotted the landscape, dark lumbering shapes against the moonlit grass. Its windows glowing with square patches of light, the main house was visible, as was the winding Sage River, a moon-washed ribbon reflecting a wide canopy of twinkling stars |
