are pretty busy,” he reminded her.
“I know,” Briana said.
He flashed her the grin that made a lot of women’s knees buckle. She and Jim had gone out a couple of times, after their separate divorces, but there was no spark, and when he got promoted to his present lofty position, they’d decided to stop dating and be friends.
“Hey,” he said. “I know you. If you’re asking for time off, it’s important.”
Was it important? Vance was supposed to arrive on Saturday, and she was nervous about his spending the day with the boys without her there. There was no physical danger—Vance had never raised a hand to her or their sons—but Alec and Josh could so easily be hurt in other ways.
“My ex-husband is coming back then,” she confided.
Jim’s grin faded. “Oh.”
Realizing what he was thinking—that there was a reconciliation in the offing—Briana blushed. “It’s nothing like that,” she said quickly. “I’m just worried about the boys being alone with him all day. Alec is suffering from a bad case of hero worship, and God knows what ideas Vance might put in his head, and Josh told me he’d rather run away—”
Jim put up a hand. “You can have Saturday off,” he interrupted. “I’ll fill in for you myself. But you owe me an extra shift.”
Briana nodded, deeply relieved. “Thanks, Jim.”
He smiled, but his dark eyes were worried. “Josh threatened to run away?”
Jim knew Briana’s sons, since they were in the casino coffee shop so often, and he’d been remarkably tolerant of their presence. Lots of bosses wouldn’t have been so understanding, but Jim had a boy of his own. Four-year-old Sam lived with his mother now, in Missoula, and didn’t visit often.
Briana patted his arm. “I don’t think Josh would really hit the road on his own, but I’d rather not take the chance.”
Jim heaved a heavy sigh, shoved a hand through his longish, blue-black hair. “Kids do stupid things sometimes,” he said.
Briana thought of the bull in Dylan’s pasture, and the bears that apparently fed in the orchard on occasion. She glanced at her watch. It was almost lunchtime; she’d call home from the employees’ lounge behind one of the casino’s three restaurants and make sure Alec and Josh were following orders.
“Yeah,” she agreed belatedly. “Sometimes they do.”
She and Jim parted, and she headed for the lounge, went straight to the pay phone. She needed a cell, but it wasn’t in the budget.
Josh answered on the third ring. “Alec is a buttface,” he said, without preamble.
“Be that as it may,” Briana answered, used to the running battle between her sons, “he’s your brother. What are you two up to?”
“Alec is doing his math, and I was on the Internet until you called. Wanda ate a woodchuck or something, and her farts are, like, gross.”
“I feel your pain,” Briana said cheerfully. “And how could Wanda have eaten a woodchuck?”
“I said ‘or something,’” Josh pointed out.
Briana smiled. “Joshua?”
“Okay, it was the bratwurst left over from night before last,” Josh said. “It wasn’t my idea to give it to her. Alec did that.”
Situation normal.
“Will you come and get us?” he asked. “It’s boring around here, when we can’t even go outside.”
“No time,” Briana said. “You’ll have to tough it out until I get home. I’m stopping off at the supermarket after work, so I might be a few minutes late.”
“Alec really thinks Dad’s coming on Saturday.”
Briana closed her eyes. “Maybe,” she said evenly. “Maybe he’s coming on Saturday.”
“With Dad, it’s always ‘maybe,’”
Josh replied.
“True enough. Do me a favor, though, and hold the remarks. It really upsets Alec.”
“He’s living in a fantasy world.”
“You’re Alec’s big brother,” Briana said. “Be nice to him.”
Josh sighed dramatically. “Okay, but only until you get home,” he said. “Then all bets are off.”
“Fair enough,” Briana said, with a smile.
Josh responded with a disgusted wail.
“What?” Briana asked anxiously, thinking the house had caught fire or a serial killer was trying to break down the back door.
“Wanda just cut one,” Josh lamented. “Again!” In the background, Alec whooped with manic delight.
“Butt-face!” Josh yelled.
“No name-calling, Josh,” Briana said. “You promised.”
“All right,” Josh countered, “but if you’re not here by five-thirty, I’m going to have to kill him.”
“I’ve only got one word for you, Joshua Grant.”
“What?”
“Babysitter,” Briana replied. Then she said goodbye and hung up.
CHAPTER FOUR
THERE WERE TWO CARS parked in front of Cassie’s ramshackle place at the edge of town, and she’d scrawled With a client on the whiteboard nailed up beside the front door. Logan took the marker, dangling from a piece of tattered baling twine, and added I was here. Logan.
That done, he turned and swung his gaze across the property.
Sidekick was sniffing around the edge of the teepee, the closest thing to a tourist attraction that Stillwater Springs, Montana, had to offer. It was authentic, built in the old way, by Cassie’s father, of tree branches and buckskin, and she charged fifty cents per visit.
Logan approached, dropped two quarters into the rusty coffee can that served as a till—Cassie believed in the honor system and so did he—and ducked into the cool, semidarkness where he and Dylan and Tyler had played as boys.
Except for the long-cold fire circle in the center, rimmed by sooty stones, the teepee was empty. Gone were the ratty blankets he remembered, the gourd ladle and wooden bucket, the clay cooking pots. No sign of the mangy bearskins, either.
He sat down, cross-legged, facing the fire pit, and imagined the flames leaping before him. Sidekick took an uncertain seat beside him, leaned into his shoulder a little.
Maybe the animal knew that in
