Page 9 of Wild Highway (Runaway 2)

The land they owned in this gorgeous valley in Western Montana was worth hundreds of millions of dollars. Not that she’d flaunt it. That wasn’t Carol’s style. No, she was the woman with money in the bank and horse shit on her boots because a good day to her was working on this land.

I smiled and leaned in closer. “How is Jake?”

“Ornery.” She shook her head. “That man hates being retired but he’s so damn stubborn he won’t admit it. So he putzes around, driving the rest of us who are trying to work crazy. Especially Easton. It’s not a weekday if those two aren’t fighting.”

My heart skipped at the mention of his name. It had crossed my mind countless times on the drive here.

Easton Greer was another reason I’d stayed away. Another mistake. Someone I doubted would welcome me with open arms.

But this trip wasn’t about him. I was going to find the courage to make things right with Katherine.

Any amends with Easton would be a bonus.

Maybe he’d forgotten all about me. In a way, I hoped he had.

Carol led me up the staircase, keeping a firm hold on my arm, as we made it to the first landing, rounded the corner and started up flight two. If she noticed my shaking fingers, she didn’t show it.

“Katherine runs the resort side of things these days. We kept promoting her from job to job, and when we finally ran out of rungs on the ladder for her to climb, we just made her the boss.”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the least.”

Katherine might not have had my bold ambition, but she’d always been smart and incredibly hardworking. Like me, she’d stopped going to school once she’d come to live in the junkyard. Instead, she’d worked. During the day, she’d had a job with a landscaping company. And at night, she’d washed dishes for a restaurant. Both had paid cash under the table.

The two of us had been more than friends. We’d been roommates. She’d shared my tent—though tent had never been the right word. It had started as a tent, with a tarp strung between two piles of junk to keep the rain away. Then I’d added sheet-metal walls and eventually separate bedrooms, one for me and another for Katherine. Our makeshift living room had become the common area for meals and games.

That tent had been my pride and joy, much like the empire I’d built in Boston.

An empire I’d built by leaving Katherine behind.

My shoes and Carol’s boots echoed on the floor’s wooden planks as we reached the second story and started down a long hallway, lined with doors.

I hadn’t spent much time in this wing of the lodge since it was where the offices were located. The other wing was much larger and held all the guest rooms. I’d spent plenty of time in that wing as a housekeeper.

The Greer Ranch and Mountain Resort had become one of Montana’s premier guest ranches, offering a traditional western experience. I’d done some googling in my hotel room last night and had been impressed by the website. The resort had always been nice, but over the past decade, they’d built five different chalets for guests to rent. They’d added more guest experiences and the meals were five-star. Prices weren’t listed on the website because this place catered to celebrities and the uber-rich.

“Is she happy here?” I asked Carol.

She reached a door, rapped on it once with her knuckles.

“Come in,” a voice I hadn’t heard in years called from the other side.

My palms began to sweat.

Carol nodded for me to go on in. “Ask her yourself. I’ll be downstairs in the kitchen. Come find me when you’re ready to haul in your luggage.”

“Okay,” I breathed and turned the knob. Here goes. With my shoulders squared, I pushed the door open and took one step inside.

Katherine, beautiful as ever, sat behind a wide oak desk. She looked up from her computer screen and her entire body stiffened. “Gemma?”

“Hi.” I lifted my hand for an awkward wave and braved another step.

Her eyebrows came together. “W-what are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” I sucked in some oxygen. Breathe. “May I?” I asked, coming into the room and motioning to one of the leather club chairs positioned in front of her desk.

She nodded but otherwise sat perfectly still in her high-backed chair.

Her corner office was enormous, as big as the one I’d had in Boston. The interior walls had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and the others were lined with windows. A couch and two loveseats angled toward the view occupied half of the room.