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Colton’s concerns about Ryan Ferguson were shoved to the back of his mind. “Why?”
“It’s time, don’t you think? I just moved back home until some of my college debt was paid off and to lend Dad a hand. But as I said, I’m not around enough to help much, and now that I’m out of school, he can afford to pay someone.”
“So why did he choose Ferguson?”
I wish I knew, Cassie thought. “Ryan needed a job, I guess.”
Colton settled back in his booth and watched Ferguson throughout the meal. The man, though dressed in basic Road Warrior attire, seemed harmless enough. But, as Colton had learned from years of dealing with some of the most deadly terrorists in the world, looks could be deceiving. Ryan Ferguson was worth checking out.
Vince Monroe scraped back his chair. Colton glanced his way and caught the older man staring at him—hard—and the warning hairs on the back of his neck rose. Though Vince’s big face remained bland, his eyes gave him away. Colton recognized cold, hard hatred in Vince’s stare.
Jessica turned her head in Colton’s direction, offered a wobbly smile, which Colton returned with a friendly grin, then walked out on her father’s arm without a word.
“I get the impression the Monroes aren’t crazy about me,” Colton thought aloud, wondering just how many of the local ranchers felt alienated from the McLeans.
“Vince has had some bad luck.”
“That’s my fault?”
“No,” Cassie admitted, rolling her napkin nervously. “But there is Jessica.”
“I told you, there was never anything between Jessica and me.”
“Does she know that? You know, it’s just possible you hurt her, Colton, and if you did, her father wouldn’t count you on his list of ten favorites.”
Colton rubbed his jaw pensively. The hate sizzling in Monroe’s glance couldn’t be explained by the fact that Colton had gone out with Jessica a couple of times, then left town. “I don’t think this has anything to do with Jessica. There’s got to be more. What happened between the Monroes and the McLeans while I was gone?”
“I don’t know, except that Vince was forced to sell some of his stock to Denver last year.”
“I’d think he’d be pleased that Denver would bail him out,” Colton said, his gaze following the stiff set of Vince’s shoulders as the big man shoved the door open.
“I doubt it,” she said, her appetite disappearing. “The same thing happened to Dad a few years ago. He had to sell a horse to Tessa before she married your brother. It never set well with him.”
“Anything remotely associated with the McLeans doesn’t set well with Ivan.”
“He has his reasons,” she added. “You know, Dad can be a wonderful, caring man. He’s done nothing but take care of me all of my life. You just have to give him a chance.”
To her surprise, he reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. “I’m trying, Cass. Believe me, I’m trying.” His work-roughened fingers smoothed the skin across the back of her hand, and a ripple of pleasure ran up her arm. “Come on, I’d better get you home,” he said with a cynical grin. “I wouldn’t want to get on the bad side of your father.”
“Right,” she retorted, but grinned as he helped her into her coat.
Outside, the night was cool and still. Together they walked to the Jeep beneath a night-black sky. Cassie’s lips felt cold, her skin chilled, and yet being with Colton created an inner warmth that radiated to her fingers.
As he opened the door for her, he grabbed her hand, gently pulling her against him and kissing her with all the passion of eight lost years. “Thanks for coming with me tonight,” he whispered.
“Thanks for asking.”
They drove back to the Aldridge ranch in silence, but Colton remembered the people in the café and the hostility he’d sensed, the crackle of unspoken anger. Not from everyone, of course, but the Monroes and the Wilkersons had been far from friendly—and then there was Ferguson. Ivan’s hiring Ryan bothered him a great deal without his really knowing why.
Cassie touched his shoulder. “You look like you’re a million miles away,” she said, tucking her arm through his.
One corner of his lip lifted. “Not that far.”
“Where?”
“Back at the restaurant.” He shifted down and turned into the lane. The windshield wipers slapped the raindrops aside. “Has your father known Ferguson long?”
“All his life. As I mentioned, Ryan grew up around here, too,” she said. “Why?”
