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Finley retreated to his office and slammed the door hard enough to make the hinges rattle. He tangled both hands in his hair and pulled to keep from screaming, then paced the length of the small room. Fuck, he was good and pissed. It took several minutes for him to wind down enough to realize their friendship wasn’t meant to be if a minor setback could cause this much damage. He closed his eyes, exhaled slowly, and adjusted his thinking. Kieran’s anguish was more important than his hurt feelings and pride. If Finley gave up, he’d never see another one of Kieran’s beautiful smiles, and that would suck. But if Finley failed to deliver on the promise he’d made to Kieran, that would be a tragedy. He would not let Kieran down.
Calmer, he opened his door and sat at his desk to work on the schedule for the day. He hung the clipboard on the wall for the crew to find and retrieved his rake and shovel. Kieran stiffened when Finley opened the stall beside him and started cleaning. Finley’s new tactic was to pretend the past few weeks hadn’t happened. They were back to square one. Finley started singing as he worked and thought he caught a faint chuckle during one particularly off-key note. Kieran’s demeanor had softened a little by the time they finished cleaning all the stalls, but he didn’t instigate conversation. He returned to the dining room with everyone else at lunch but didn’t interact with the crew. They accepted the change just as Finley had and went about their business.
He compiled a list of pawn shops between the ranch and Denver. Finley was shocked by the sheer volume but was determined to check them all. He could’ve enlisted help to divide and conquer, but it would’ve required an explanation, and he didn’t want to betray Kieran’s confidence. So he hit up a few each night after dinner.
Things improved a little over the following week. Kieran rejoined the crew for meals and the two of them were polite when working together. On the occasions that they physically bumped into one another, their eyes met and held. Electricity charged the air, but Finley didn’t tear down a single brick in the wall. Instead of hanging out with Kieran in the evenings, Finley spent his free time checking out the pawn shops in and around Colorado Springs, working his way closer to Denver as he went. He kept hoping that finding the camera would blast a crater in Kieran’s resistance, but he kept striking out.
Finley planned a trip to Denver for the following Saturday and recruited Harry to help. He’d told her about the stolen equipment but said it happened when they stopped for a bite to eat after the horse show. “I’ve searched all the local pawnshops but haven’t found the gear.”
“What a crappy ending for a date,” Harry said.
“Not you too. You’re sounding like Ivan.”
Harry giggled. “Because he cares about you.” She paused, then added. “You could do a lot worse than Ivan. He’s so handsome, hardworking, and—”
“A dear friend,” Finley supplied.
“Love can develop from friendship. I’ve heard it’s the best kind.”
Finley rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about Ivan or Kieran.”
“Of course you don’t.”
“I want to talk about Dylan.”
Harry groaned. “Don’t start this again. He’s too young for me.”
“Ten years isn’t much of an age gap,” Finley argued. “You’re just not willing to take risks.”
“Why should I when you take enough risks for both of us?” she countered.
“Ouch.” Finley rubbed at a spot above his heart.
Harry leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. That was mean.”
“But honest.”
She knew what their grandpa’s camera meant to Finley and happily agreed to help if he could get her back in time for her mani-pedi appointment in Last Chance Creek. She had another girls’ night out that evening and apparently pretty nails were important. They set out early because there were several pawn shops in Denver and the surrounding area. He’d felt hopeful during the ninety-minute ride to the big city but dejected on their way back to the ranch still empty-handed. Harry had let him stew in his thoughts while she read a book, which only reminded him of Kieran.
A pang of longing gripped his heart and squeezed until he wanted to howl. He missed the physical dynamic that they’d barely started to explore, but Finley craved their quirky conversations, quiet evenings, and the little pack they’d formed. But if he were objective, Finley had to consider he might’ve fallen into his old pattern of making something more than it was because his heart desired it.
He had two options: move on or try to work out the issue with Kieran and make the most of the time they had left. One path was logical and the other fanciful, yet there was no doubt about the route he’d choose. He didn’t want to live with any regrets when Kieran left the ranch, so he wouldn’t wave a white flag.
When they neared Last Chance Creek, Harry suggested they meet their mother at the diner for a bite to eat before the ladies indulged in their pedicures. Finley had eaten little for breakfast, so he was more than ready to sink his teeth into something delicious. Hope was already at the diner, and she wasn’t alone. A dark-haired man sat beside her in the same booth he and Kieran had used on the night of the art festival. His mother laughed at something the stranger said, and Finley had a sinking feeling he knew the handsome man’s identity.
He stopped inside the door and rounded on Harry. “You guys set me up.”
Harry patted his cheek and smiled sweetly. “I’m calling it an intervention. I can’t watch you break your own heart again.” Finley had been on the verge of walking out of the café, but Harry’s pleading gaze softened his resolve.
“Fine, but I will get even.”
Harry hooked her arm through Finley’s and led him toward the booth. Hope saw them first and waved. The mystery man looked in their direction, and his warm brown eyes widened when they landed on Finley. He looked to be roughly the same age and was undoubtedly handsome. Finley forced himself to relax and decided to let nature take its course. Harry gestured for him to slide in first so he’d be across from Michael, but he knew she just wanted to box him in so he couldn’t bolt.
Finley slid into the booth and smiled through introductions. Michael reached across the table and Finley shook his hand. No spark or shiver of awareness followed. Suddenly unsure of what to say or where to put his hands, he reached for a menu, even though he’d memorized it long ago.
Merri arrived to take their drink order, but Hope held up her hand. “I just remembered I need to meet a client for a private yoga session.” She grimaced like a seasoned actress and rose to her feet. “I forgot about our pedicure appointments. Do you think they can bump us back a little?”
Harry stood up too. “I’ll go find out. Excuse us for cutting out on you.”
