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“Filthy rich with silver spoons up their asses?”
“Much less rich than my father would have people believe.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “And like it or not, it’s my job to fix it. From my point of view the only option he has is to start lightening the load, so to speak. It’s a sinking ship. And that means we have to throw cargo off. That means these little buildings that he owns here on Main are the first thing that need to go, from my perspective.”
She struggled to keep her voice calm even as the world reeled around her. The Almighty Nathan West wasn’t swimming in money? And her store—her safe haven—was about to be sold out from under her, just like that? “Wait a second. You think you’re qualified to make decisions like this? Where exactly did you get your degree?”
“Some online program. I printed the actual degree out at a Motel 6 in a shit town in Idaho I was passing through a few years ago.”
If it had been someone else under other circumstances, she might have appreciated his quick wit. “Which just serves as reminder that you’ve been gone from Copper Ridge for years. So why exactly do you think you’re qualified to make this decision? A decision that affects me, and the other people who are currently tenants in your father’s little fiefdom here.”
He lifted a shoulder, maddeningly calm, as he had been from the moment he had walked in. “I don’t suppose I could ask you to trust me on that.”
“I don’t suppose you could.”
“That’s too bad, but unfortunately it doesn’t change anything. I’m not here to put you out, but we can’t hold on to any assets that are going to damage the West family finances.”
“But you said that you’re buying the building. Aren’t you the West family and its finances?”
“No,” he said, another infuriatingly opaque answer.
She narrowed her eyes. “If you’re going to hand out an eviction notice, why don’t you do it now? There’s a nice symmetry to it. Just give me one more problem to put on your shoulders, Gage West. I don’t mind. I’m happy to let you carry around my suffering.”
“I don’t want your suffering,” he said, studying her from those impenetrable eyes. “But I would like to give you the building.”
* * *
GAGE HALF EXPECTED her to go for the shotgun now. Not that he could blame her. He couldn’t blame her for any of this. For her anger, for her threats. He deserved every single thing that she lobbed at him. And more. But he had never pretended he wasn’t guilty.
He was guilty. Straight down to the center of his soul, if he even had one left. He wasn’t looking for atonement, wasn’t searching for absolution. It wasn’t to be had.
He simply wanted to fix what he could. It was why he was here.
“Get out.”
That wasn’t the response he had expected. He had at least expected curiosity. But from the moment he had walked into the store, it had been apparent that Rebecca Bear wasn’t quite what he had bargained for.
He hadn’t pictured her being this hard, for one thing. He hadn’t exactly pictured her as a woman either, in spite of the fact that he knew she had been running her own business here on Main Street for the past seven years. He was well aware of that because he had financed it in the first place. Not that she knew that. If she did, she would probably make good on her threats.
Still, it had been a shock to walk through the door and see her standing there, her chestnut hair cascading down past her shoulders, a smooth silky river, the petite but generous figure perfectly designed to draw a man’s eye to all of the relevant dips and swells. Then there were her eyes, dark, sharp.
But what stopped him short was her smooth golden skin. Smooth golden skin that then transformed into a rough landscape midway down one side of her face, extending down her neck and beneath the collar of her shirt.
His most enduring gift to her.
“Not until you hear me out.”
“I’ll call Sheriff Garrett.”
“I own the building. Or, my family does.”
“Eli won’t care.” He could tell by the determined glitter in her eyes that even if she was bluffing, she was prepared to take her chances. Well, so was he. And the threat of having the police called was not exactly a deterrent to a man like him.
“I want to give you the building,” he repeated.
She looked as though she had been slapped. “I don’t want your charity.”
“It isn’t charity. Consider it payment.”
“Payment?” The word was nearly a feral growl. “Compensation for everything that’s behind door number one?” She waved her hand over the left half of her body as she said that. “Thanks, but I’m going to take a hard pass on your blood money.”
He had expected a lot of things. That she would be angry, of course. That she would be justifiably upset at his presence. But he had not expected her to reject his offer to give her the building her business was in outright.
“It isn’t blood money. I owe you.”
“Yeah, you’re damn right you do. But you couldn’t repay me, not in this lifetime. There are things money can’t fix, and I know that since you’re a West that’s a difficult concept for you to wrap your brain around, but it’s the truth. And it’s a truth people like me have known for years. Because we can’t just throw money at things to make our problems go away. To cover them up. We actually have to deal with them.”
“You think I’ve been off somewhere living the high life all this time?” His conscience, so seared he had thought perhaps it had no more feeling left in it, burned slightly. Regardless of what he had actually been doing or the means within which he had been living, he’d had access to a lot of money.
“I think however you’ve been living, you have the mindset of someone who was born with money. Which is why you ever thought it was all right for you to behave in a way that put you beyond the rules. And when people like you do that, people like me suffer. That’s the end of the story. I am the cautionary tale of your excess.”
She wasn’t saying anything he hadn’t already said to himself, every day for the past seventeen years. It was why he’d tattooed the reminder on his arm. It was why he had left. Why this was the first time he had set foot in Copper Ridge since that night he’d walked out of his father’s office for the last time.
“Trust me. I know.”
Her lip curled. “You don’t know anything.”
“Unfortunately, I do.”
“Unfortunately. Of course it all feels unfortunate to you. To realize that your actions have far-reaching consequences that you can’t control.” She took a deep breath. “But I can’t just call it unfortunate. This is my life. Now get out of my store.”
Well, Gage hadn’t had a positive greeting from anyone in town so far. So he couldn’t really blame the woman he had permanently scarred for being the least enthused of all upon his return.
“Okay. I’ll go. But I’m going to be back, and we’re going to talk when you’re able to be rational.”
She planted her hands on the counter, staring him down. “Oh, I haven’t begun to be rational with you. If you overstay your welcome, I might be tempted to rationalize a whole lot of things. Such as taking advantage of certain home-invasion laws and twisting them to include my business.”
If there was one thing Gage had learned over the years, it was the value of retreat. He tipped his hat in a gesture he hoped she’d take as polite and not cocky. “I’ll take that as my cue. But I will be back, Rebecca.”
Then he turned and walked out of the store. Back on Main Street, he let out a hard breath, his chest loosening, a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying easing slightly.
Dealing with Rebecca was never going to be simple. He’d known that going in. But he was here to deal with his responsibilities.
If there was one thing he’d learned, it was that you couldn’t run from your demons. They’d spent years nipping at his heels as he’d moved from place to place, before they’d caught right up to him and possessed him outright.
He was here to perform a damn exorcism. And although she had every right to hate him, Rebecca Bear’s pride wasn’t going to get in the way of that.
He’d been close when he’d gotten the call about his dad. Closer than he usually let himself come to his hometown. Typically, he avoided Oregon altogether. But he’d been down near Roseburg doing some temporary work clearing brush and burning it while it was wet, to keep things safer during fire season. Dirty work that kept his mind clear.
The fact he’d been just a couple of hours away would seem like a sign, if he believed in those.
When his lawyer had called, he’d been shocked to hear about his father’s stroke. And to learn that he was the executor of the estate if Nathan West was ever incapacitated.
It had felt...well, it had felt far more damned significant than it should.
It also didn’t escape his notice that his family hadn’t called. Clearly his father’s attorney had been able to get in touch with Gage’s, so that meant someone knew how to contact him. But of course it hadn’t been his brother. Or his mother.
It had been made abundantly clear when he’d gone to the hospital a few days earlier that his siblings were shocked anyone knew of his whereabouts. Shocked he’d returned.
Hell, in some ways, so was he.
He paused, looking up and down the street at the place he’d called home for the first eighteen years of his life. The place he’d been absent from almost as long.
There was a near distressing sameness to Copper Ridge’s Main Street. It had changed shape in many ways, more businesses open than he recalled, a new sort of vitality injected into the local economy.
But it smelled the same. The air unrelenting in its sharpness. Pine mixing with salt and brine as the wind crossed down from the mountains and mingled with the sea. It settled over his skin, the cool dampness wrapping itself around him.
Most days, a thick gray mist hung low, making the sky seem like it was something you could reach up and touch. Today, it was great enough that it blanketed the tops of the buildings, swirling over the red brick detail, blotting out the big American flag that flew proudly just behind the chamber of commerce.
There was an espresso shop across the street, the kind of place that served coffee with more milk than actual substance. He never thought he’d see the day when something that trendy hit Copper Ridge.
Though he supposed it was a little less unexpected than it would have been if they’d gotten in one of those big chains. Copper Ridge just wasn’t a chain kind of place. Mostly because they didn’t have the population to support them.
That had been the bane of his, and his friends’, existence growing up. He supposed it was what made it an attractive tourist destination now.
Funnily enough, when he left he hadn’t sought out a bigger city. Hadn’t cared at all about chains or entertainment. Instead, he’d stuck to the back roads, spending his time in various small towns in different parts of the country.
But nothing was quite like this.
Somehow there was no comfort in that for him. The town brought back too many old memories. In fact, he resented the fact that it was so distinct. He had been to enough places that everything started to blur together eventually. Nothing was unique.
Except Copper Ridge. And that felt like adding insult to damn injury.
He took a deep breath, daring the air to feel familiar. Daring it to push him down that rabbit hole of memories he didn’t want to have.
Gage West was home. And he would rather be anywhere else.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_3f9bdd30-3f0f-5ac8-a67d-3e170f9951d2)
REBECCA FELT BOTH exhausted and emotionally scarred by the time she turned her open sign around. She needed to get home. She needed to figure out how to deal with the fact that Gage West was apparently back in town and intent on forcing his guilt on her.
No, guilt might make her feel good about herself. She didn’t believe for one second he felt guilty. Not in any real, contrite sense.
Not that she would care either way. His guilt, his overall contrition, didn’t matter. It never had. It didn’t change a damn thing.
She turned, walking back toward the register, feeling weary down to her bones.
The bell sounded behind her and she turned again, about to let whoever it was know that she was closed. But it wasn’t a customer. It was Alison, carrying two boxes that Rebecca knew would be filled with pie. And following closely behind her was Lane, two bottles of wine in her hand. The door closed behind them and opened again as Cassie walked through also carrying a pastry box.
She had managed to forget entirely. Tonight was the weekly girls’ night, and the Trading Post was hosting this week.
“Hi,” she said, feeling even more tired. She wasn’t sure she had it in her to do the socializing thing tonight. The little group of friends, comprised of the female business owners on Main, had become an important source of companionship in her life over the past few years. But there were some things she had always felt most comfortable dealing with on her own.
Or not dealing with at all as she hid away in her mountain cabin. Whatever. It was her drama, her prerogative.
“Hello,” Cassie said, her voice chipper. “God bless Jake. He’s up to his neck in diapers and is at least pretending to be completely cheerful about it.”
Of the group, Cassie was the only one with a husband and children. The rest of them had become pretty confirmed bachelorettes. But if anyone could entice Rebecca into thinking that maybe a husband and kids wasn’t the worst idea, it was Cassie. She was always disgustingly happy.
“What’s the plan for tonight?” Alison asked, walking to the back of the store and setting her box of pies down by the register. “We are not watching another male stripper movie,” she said, directing this comment at Lane.
“I incurred the entire rental expense for that atrocity,” Lane said.
“But my life, Lane. I want my life back.”
“It was two hours,” Lane said. “Calm down.”
“Two hours when I could have done anything else.”
“And yet, I notice you didn’t get up and leave during the movie,” Lane replied.
“I was waiting for the payoff. I assumed that at some point someone would get naked. Instead, there was so much talking,” Alison groused.
“Well, whatever we decide to do, there are snacks,” Cassie said, lifting the tops of the boxes Alison had brought, and also the box she’d brought, and revealing two different pies and an assortment of pastries.
“Snacks are good,” Rebecca said. “Of course, I haven’t had dinner.”
“This is dinner,” Cassie said, advancing on the pie.
“I need a drink,” Lane said, going back behind the counter and rummaging until she produced the wine glasses that Rebecca kept back there for these occasions. “You, Rebecca?”
“I’ll just make some coffee. I have to drive back home after this, and I don’t think I can stay long enough to wait for the buzz to wear off.”
“Rough day?” This question came from Alison.
“Just tired.” She was a liar. A cagey liar.
Her friends knew about her accident. She found that until she divulged the source of her scars it was just a weird eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room. But nobody knew who was responsible. In fact, she kept the details as private as possible.
She kept it simple. She had been in a bad car accident when she was eleven, and it had left permanent scarring. The end.
“Are you sure?” Cassie asked, busying herself starting to brew coffee.
“Yes,” she said, “I’m sure. Also, Cassie, you don’t need to make me coffee. That’s what you do all day.”
“I’m well aware of what I do all day, Rebecca. But I don’t want to drink the swill that you call coffee. I’m a connoisseur. An artisan.”
“I’m not going to argue,” Alison said. “Mostly because I just want you to make the coffee.”
“Well, you spent all day making pie. So I suppose I’ll allow it,” Rebecca said.
