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She shivered. “That makes it even more scary.”
“Broken pipe. Ceiling coming down. Lucas’s lost check. Sounds like they’ve been having quite the run of bad luck at Wise Gal.”
“That’s all it is.” She kept her eyes on his profile. “Surely?”
He turned to face her, his eyes endlessly blue. “It all adds up to a lot of reasons why you have to go back.”
Bree nodded. “I don’t have much choice. I still have a business to run.”
“Then let’s do it.” His voice was determined. “I promised I wouldn’t let this stalker hurt you, Bree. And I meant it.”
* * *
Rylan could see why Roaring Springs was a popular playground for the rich and famous.
There was an eighteen-hole golf course west of town, one of the few venues not owned by the Coltons. The caverns that housed the underground springs were open to the public and proved quite a draw, especially in the summer heat. Horse and cattle ranches were plentiful in the surrounding valleys.
But, as he took the route toward the trendy Second Street area, it was the gondola that caught his eye. The link between The Lodge and The Chateau was a visible reminder of the domination of the Colton family over the area.
“How did your family make its money?” he asked Bree.
“A Colton was one of the founding fathers of Roaring Springs, back when it was still a gold mining community of tents,” she said. “The Colton name is known across the United States. You know we’re related to former President Joe Colton?”
“I’d heard that.”
She smiled. “Uncle Joe. Now, there’s a character. Not a real uncle, of course. More a distant cousin of my dad’s. My grandfather is a third-generation Coloradoan. When he married my grandmother, he bought up a lot of land in the mountains and opened a lodge on Pine Peak with ski slopes that became hugely popular. In the valley, the Gilfords were the biggest property owners. Price Gilford needed capital, and my grandfather needed land. They both won. The Colton Empire was formed when my uncle Russ married my aunt Mara. She was Price Gilford’s daughter.”
“No mention of the Gilford name in the brand?” Rylan asked.
“It was before my time, so I don’t know the details. When it came to business, my grandfather was always rather slick. I guess he made sure the Coltons came out on top.”
They reached the Diamond, and Rylan pulled into a space in the parking lot. It was only a few days since they had last been here, and his ranch was less than an hour away, but this felt like a different lifetime.
He cast a glance in Bree’s direction, wondering if she felt the same way. But why would she? This was her territory. She’d warned him not to get used to having her around at the ranch. She belonged here, in this quirky, artsy community.
She was gazing up at the facade of Wise Gal, with intense concentration on her face. “If any of this is a plan to get me back here, then he’s going to be around somewhere. Waiting for me.”
“I’m here.” He leaned across and gripped her hand. “For you.”
“I needed to hear that.” She returned the pressure of his fingers.
Releasing Papadum, who was back on guard dog duty, they left the car and crossed to the gallery entrance. Once inside the lobby, Bree paused to exchange a few words with the staff on the reception desk. Everything seemed normal as they went through to the main gallery. The place was busy, with a number of people viewing the exhibits and a group of schoolchildren taking a painting class near the craft shop.
Bree led the way into Kasey’s office. Her assistant was in the middle of eating lunch but placed her sandwich down when she saw them. Rylan considered himself a good judge of character. From the smile in her eyes, he decided Kasey was either a skilled actress or she was genuinely pleased to see Bree.
“You look like your break has already done you good,” Kasey said, as she studied Bree with her head on one side. “Have you done much painting?”
“Not much.” Bree cast a sidelong glance in Rylan’s direction.
He hadn’t given it much thought until now, but he realized that, instead of painting, she’d been spending her time around the ranch with him and the animals. Had he kept her from her art? He dismissed the thought. Bree had a mind of her own. If her preference had been for painting, she’d have taken her brushes and palette out.
