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“Look, McLean, you’ve said your piece and I’ve listened. In all honesty, I’m glad the horse is back. As for the rest”—his brows drew together and he lifted one shoulder—“I see no reason to change things. As far as I’m concerned, you’re still not welcome here.”
Cassie’s spirits crashed. “Please, Dad, think about this—”
“Think about it?” Ivan retorted, his lips thinning. “I’ve thought too long about the McLeans. You might be falling for his line, but I’m not!” he growled.
“I just think it’s time we settled some things.”
“Tell that to your mother, why don’t you?” His old eyes gleaming, he stood. The cords in his neck had stretched taut as he warned, “Be careful, Cassie. You’re twenty-five now—old enough to make your own decisions—and I can’t tell you what to do. But just be damned careful.”
“Dad, wait—I think we should talk about this. . . .” Cassie followed him out of the room, but Ivan shook his head sadly, ran a shaking hand over his forehead and climbed the stairs.
“Get rid of him. Then we’ll talk.”
Cassie felt pulled and pushed. On one hand she wanted to shove aside all the pain of the past, get on with her life. On the other, she knew her father was right. One apology didn’t erase years of agony and mistrust.
Her stomach in knots, she walked back to the kitchen where Colton, twirling the brim of his hat in his fingers, stared out the window. “Charming fellow, your father,” he muttered.
“He can be.”
“You couldn’t prove it to me.”
“That works two ways.”
Colton frowned, his brows drawing together in a single, stubborn line. “Let’s get out of here.”
“I just got home!”
“I know, but I’d rather go someplace where I’m welcome. And I’d like you to come with me.”
Cassie hesitated. Tempted not to ask any questions and just take off and follow him, she had to force herself to slow down. “Why?”
“Because I want to spend some time with you,” he said simply, his expression still perturbed.
Her pulse jumped. “Do you think that’s smart?”
“I know it isn’t, but what could it hurt?” He flashed her an uncertain grin, and Cassie’s heart lurched. Seeing a vulnerable side to Colton, a part he tried so hard to keep hidden, touched her as nothing else could.
“I’d hate to think—”
“Then don’t think. Just come with me.”
She attempted to swallow al
l her doubts. “Okay.” Wondering if she were making the second-worst mistake of her life, she breezed past him and walked outside. Afternoon shadows had lengthened, the sunlight was weak, the air cool. Shivering, she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her down jacket and crossed the yard.
Colton opened the door of the Jeep and helped her inside.
As he slid behind the steering wheel, Cassie glanced at the house. “I hope you know I feel like Benedict Arnold.”
“Your father’ll get over it.”
“I don’t know,” she thought aloud as the Jeep lurched backward and cut a wide circle near the barn.
“You’re twenty-f ive—Ivan himself pointed out that fact.”
“Oh, so now I’m old enough, is that it?” she said, a sad smile toying with her lips.
“Old enough?”
