there’s no way you can do this yourself.”
“I haven’t gone soft,” Rafe told him, then introduced Glen, who waved away the words.
“I know Ethan,” the old man said. “And these two. Come on, boys. We’ll get started and show them how it’s done.”
Rafe and Ethan walked toward the larger truck.
“You never left?” Rafe asked. “I remember something about you wanting to get away, too.”
Ethan shrugged. “That was the plan. Life intervened. Turned out staying here was the best thing that ever happened to me.” He pulled out his wallet and removed a couple of pictures.
Rafe studied the pretty redhead and the three children. “You’ve been busy.”
“I’ve been happy,” Ethan said.
Rafe handed back the picture. “Good for you.” While he didn’t feel any regrets about his marriage having failed, he was sorry not to have children of his own.
“Where are you living?” Ethan asked.
“San Francisco. You still in construction?”
“Some. The company pretty much runs itself. Most of my time is spent building turbines.” His smile flashed again. “Windmills, to you laypeople. Wind energy.”
They talked about Ethan’s business for a few minutes.
“We should get together,” Ethan said. “I’ll talk to Liz about having you over for dinner. Remember Josh Golden?”
“Sure.”
“He’s still in town. Married, with a kid. Fiona is a year now. Time flies. We’ll have them over.”
They discussed the other mutual friends they’d had in school—who was still around and who had moved on. After a few minutes, Ethan glanced at his watch.
“I need to get back. Keep my guys as long as you want. They know what they’re doing.”
“I appreciate the help. You’ll send me a bill for their time?”
“Count on it,” Ethan told him. “From what I’ve heard, you can afford it.”
Rafe shrugged. “I get by.”
“I’ll be in touch to set up that dinner. It’s good to have you back.”
“I’m not back.”
Ethan opened the driver’s-side door of his truck. “People say that a lot around here, and yet they never seem to leave. You might be more ‘back’ than you think, Rafe.”
* * *
AT SEVEN-THIRTY THAT NIGHT, the sun had yet to drift fully below the horizon. Rafe sat on the front-porch steps of the old house, a bottle of beer between his feet.
It had been a good day, he thought, shifting slightly. His muscles protested the movements, reminding him that building a fence was hard work, even with a motorized fence-post digger and plenty of help. His shoulders ached. Despite the gloves he’d worn, he had a few cuts on his hands, along with several blisters. He should probably be pissed, but he felt a sense of pride when he studied the straight, strong fence line. They’d made a good start. With the help of the guys Ethan had sent, it would only take a couple of weeks to get the fence line finished. Then they would move on to the barn.
He checked in with his office regularly. Ms. Jennings kept him informed on the most important projects. His days usually consisted of meetings and negotiations, contracts and travel. At the end of twelve or fourteen hours, he’d done plenty but couldn’t point to any one thing that had been finished. When a deal finally closed, he was already so deep into the next one, he rarely stopped to notice, let alone celebrate.
He’d thought being stuck in Fool’s Gold would be like serving time in hell. Maybe it would come to that, but today it hadn’t been too bad.
His cell phone rang. He pulled it from his shirt pocket. “Stryker.”
“Miss me?”
He grinned at his friend’s words. “No.”
Dante chuckled. “How wrong you are, and you’ll know it, too, when I tell you what happened today.”
Dante explained how he’d filed court documents, charmed a judge and done his best to once again make sure the company didn’t just win, but also crushed the opposition.
“Impressive,” Rafe said, then took a swallow of his beer.
Instead of paying attention to the details that would gain him millions, he found himself listening to the sounds from inside. The low rumble of conversation and the familiar intro music to his mother’s favorite game show. Heidi had gone upstairs after dinner. Would she come down again later?
Except for raving about his mother’s lasagna, Heidi had been silent at the table. She hadn’t looked at him once and had resisted any attempts at conversation. May had fussed over her, wondering if she didn’t feel well. Rafe suspected Heidi’s actions were more about what she’d said yesterday than any health issues.
When had she started thinking about them sleeping together? And, while it was all fine and good that she’d decided she wouldn’t sleep with him, her announcement had had the opposite effect on him. He’d been unable to think about much else.
“You’re not listening to me,” Dante said.
“Sorry. Distractions.”
“Goats?”
“Not exactly.”
“A woman?”
“Any other business?” Rafe asked.
“That’s a yes. Goat girl? She’s not your type.”
“What does that mean?”
“Since your divorce, you’ve preferred a different kind of woman. Beautiful, sure, but the kind who wouldn’t know a real emotion if it bit her on the ass. Heidi’s different.”
“When did you become an expert?”
“I’m just saying.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
Rafe pushed the button to end the call, then slipped the phone back into his shirt pocket. He took another swallow of his beer, knowing Dante was right. Heidi wasn’t like the other women who drifted in and out of his life. She was more down-to-earth. Besides, his plans for the ranch included making sure his mother owned it and Heidi didn’t. All the more reason to avoid her.
The screen door opened, and the woman on his mind stepped out, into the rapidly cooling evening air. She walked onto the porch, then came to a stop when she saw him.
“Oh, sorry.” She started to turn around.
“Wait.” He
