Page 7 of Quarter Miles (Runaway 3)

Now it was my turn behind the wheel.

“Have you, um, talked to Cash?” Gemma asked. “About the trip?”

“No. He didn’t come home on Friday.” Or last night.

Every Friday night, the Greers had a family dinner at Carol and Jake’s home. It was a long-standing tradition, and much like the family photo, I’d been invited—expected—to attend. Maybe my last name wasn’t Greer, but from the outside, you’d never know.

I’d cherished that invitation and rarely missed a Friday.

When Gemma had arrived, they’d invited her too. They’d pulled her into their family without hesitation, but besides us, the unspoken rule was that dinner was not for others.

Easton, Cash and I didn’t bring dates to family dinner because unless it was serious, you came alone. None of us had ever been in a serious enough relationship to warrant a family dinner introduction.

Or so I’d thought.

Last Friday, Cash had brought Dany, a pretty blonde I’d known for years, to dinner. Her family was from this area and they had their own ranch outside of Clear River. Her father served with me on the town council and always bragged about how much Dany loved being a nurse in Missoula, the closest city, located forty miles away.

All through dinner, Cash had been enamored with Dany. Laughing. Whispering. Touching.

It had broken my heart. Just like it had broken my heart knowing he’d spent the weekend with her while I’d been home alone, crying into a pint of ice cream because the man I’d loved for years would only ever see me as Kat, his unofficial sister.

“I’m pathetic,” I whispered.

“No, you’re not.” Gemma took my hand. “He’s an idiot.”

“No, he’s not.”

Cash Greer was a good man. He loved working with horses. He loved his family. He loved this ranch.

He just didn’t love me.

Easton pulled the Cadillac into the space beside my truck and Gemma pushed herself out of the swing, leading with her belly. My hands shook as I stood, shifting weight from one foot to the other as Easton climbed out of the driver’s seat. The cherry-red paint on the Cadillac’s hood was polished to a shine. Its chrome fender gleamed. It was one hell of a sight.

And for the next two weeks, it was mine.

I scrambled down the porch steps, greeting Easton as I went to the truck to unload my things. The sooner I got out of here, the sooner I would relax. I went to lift my caramel suitcase and move it to the Cadillac’s trunk, but Easton was there to do it for me.

“Just this?” Easton asked.

“And my purse.” I grabbed it from the truck’s front seat and took it to the Cadillac. “Thanks for taking care of everything. Call me if something comes up, okay?”

Easton slammed the trunk closed, my suitcase safely stowed. “I will.”

While Carol had insisted on handling everything on her own, Easton wouldn’t be as insistent on shutting me out. When things weren’t running smoothly at the resort, it only caused him stress, and when Easton was stressed, he wasn’t quiet about it.

The Greers had set up their business in two parts—the ranch and the resort. Both worked closely in tandem with one another, and while I managed the resort, Easton managed the ranch.

With thousands of acres to manage and maintain, he didn’t have time to dabble in guest services, nor did he have the desire. He would rather stay in his office in the stables than in the lodge with a waiting smile for any guest.

As I focused my daily efforts on hospitality, Easton was busy overseeing all operations concerning the land itself and the livestock. He and his staff ensured pastures were fenced and free of noxious weeds. They managed the cattle herd and the horses. When my guests wanted to go on a trail ride, Easton’s crew led the excursion. From hikes to wagon rides to bonfires to guided hunting experiences, his team handled anything outdoors.

If an activity involved a pillow, fork or confirmation number, it fell under my domain. When JR had retired and I’d been promoted to manager four years ago, the two of us had developed a system. We counted on each other for honesty and open lines of communication. Our relationship was built on trust.

If there was a disaster, Easton would call, and knowing that settled some nerves about this vacation.

“Have fun,” Gemma said, settling into Easton’s side. “Don’t worry about things here.”

I nodded. “I’ll try.”