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“Don’t worry, I will. You left this ranch and haven’t stepped foot on it in seven years. Seven years, Denver. So what gives you the right to come back now?”
The cords in his neck tightened. “I own the place. Remember?”
“You and Colton.”
“Well, he isn’t around, is he?”
“Tessa? That you?” her father called through the study door.
“In here, Dad!” she shouted back.
“What in blazes are you doin’ in here at this time of—?” Curtis Kramer shoved open the door and stepped into the dimly lit room. Color seemed to wash out of his weathered face. “Well, I’ll be,” he muttered, unconsciously smoothing his white hair with the flat of his hand. The scent of stale whiskey and cigarettes followed him as he crossed the room. His pale eyes focused more clearly. “I was wonderin’ when you’d show up.”
Unspoken accusations hung like cobwebs, dangling between them. Denver’s eyes had turned so frigid, Tessa actually shivered.
Through tight lips, Curtis said, “I figured it wouldn’t be long before you and Colton would want to check things out.”
“I’ve already started.” Denver’s jaw was rigid, his eyes blazing with warning, but Curtis, whether bolstered by the whiskey or his own sense of pride, didn’t back down.
“Good,” he shot back. “About time you took some interest in things.” Hooking his thumbs in the loops of his jeans, he turned to Tessa. “I’m gonna make me a sandwich. You want anything?”
“I’m fine,” Tessa lied. Beneath her ranch-tough veneer, she was shredding apart bit by bit, and she wouldn’t have been able to eat a bite if she’d tried. She heard her father amble down the hallway to the kitchen as she whirled on Denver. “What was that all about?”
“What?”
“You know what! You were baiting him, for God’s sake.”
“Was I?” He arched an insolent eyebrow. “All I said was that I was going to look things over.”
“It wasn’t so much what you said as how you said it. You implied something was going on here that wasn’t aboveboard.”
“You’re overreacting.”
&nb
sp; “Just don’t act like my dad’s some kind of criminal, okay? Try and remember who stayed here and held this ranch together while you and your brother took off to God only knows where.”
“I went to L.A.,” he said, his voice cold. “Just as I’d planned.”
She turned away. All these years she’d harbored some crazy little hope that he’d really cared for her, that he’d considered staying with her on the ranch, that she could have convinced him to stay in Montana with her if not for the fire. She hadn’t really believed his words that their affair had meant nothing to him.
Her chin trembled, but she met his gaze. His eyes glared back at her without a hint of warmth in their cerulean depths. “So you said.” She strode furiously down the hall to the kitchen. Her cheeks were flaming with injustice, and she felt her fists curl as tight as the hard knot in her stomach.
Her father was sitting in one of the beat-up chairs at the table. His cigarette burned in an ashtray, and a cup of coffee sat steaming on the stained oilcloth. “So he’s back,” Curtis grumbled, eyeing the local newspaper with disinterest.
“For a little while.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Humph.”
“As long as it takes,” Denver said from the hall. Leaning one shoulder against the doorjamb, he crossed his arms over his chest, the cotton weave of his shirt stretching taut over his shoulders.
“As long as it takes to do what?” Curtis asked.
Denver’s expression was calculating, his features hard. “I’m here to figure out why this ranch has lost money for the past five years.”
