Burn on the Western Slope (Crimson Romance) (4 page)

She stood and plopped on the bed, falling into the mound of pillows. A small stuffed moose, propped against the pillows, bounced up and fell over. She gathered him in the crook of her arm like a baby and nuzzled his neck.

“You’re cute,” she whispered. “Who are you?” She flicked a finger across his floppy horns, wishing he could answer the question she’d been asking herself for the past few years. He wore a crocheted sweater with a moose stitched to the front and his arms stayed open as if waiting for a hug.

Rising from the bed, she kicked off her boots and paced the room with the moose in her arms. Although it was the master bedroom, Reagan couldn’t tell if it’d been the room where Ray slept. The tan walls and dark wooden furniture were masculine but presented many feminine touches — a sparkly music box on the dresser, the stuffed animal, mounds of pillows, burgundy sheets, and fancy drapes.

She considered calling her mom. She might know if Ray had been involved with someone special. Maybe this moose belonged to a girlfriend. If so, obviously she hadn’t been special enough to inherit his things.

But why was she? She didn’t even know him. Maybe now that Reagan was here, her mom would open up to her. Maybe if she could convince her mother to visit, she would be able to forgive her brother. She had to have sent him pictures of Reagan at one point in time. They weren’t school pictures, and Reagan never remembered having those taken. But how else would Ray have gotten them?

Jumping up, she dug her cell phone out of her purse and dialed her mother’s number. Her heart pounded as the phone rang in her ear.

“Hi Mom!” Reagan said, exerting an enthusiasm in her voice she didn’t feel.

“Reagan,” Sharon said, her abrupt voice already creating a rift.

“I’m here in Montana. In Ray’s bedroom.”

“Glad you made it.”

Reagan paused, pacing the floor. She was accustomed to her mother’s pithiness, but it hurt nonetheless.

“It’s beautiful here. Well, what I’ve seen so far. Which isn’t much. It’s too dark to see the mountains right now.”

“That’s nice.”

“Have you ever visited?”

“No. Never had a desire to go to such a brutal place.”

“It’s not that brutal.”

“You’ve barely seen it.”

“I’d love for you to come visit. There’s plenty of room for you to stay with me. I’d pay for your trip.”

“No.”

Frustration bubbled in Reagan’s throat. She tempered the need to let it out in shrilling curses. “Why not? This is your brother’s condo. You could see where he lived, meet his friends.”

“I have no desire to have anything to do with Ray.”

“You must have at one time or you wouldn’t have named me after him.”

Sharon’s lack of response was louder than anything she could have said.

Disappointed, Reagan let the silence linger a few moments like a bubbling battery, the acid coiling in her throat and ready to explode. Her eyes burned. Her skin tingled. She hoped her mom would relent and say something, but talking to her mom like a normal person was pointless. Reagan wondered if she was a normal person, or if she’d always been embittered.

Reagan took a deep breath, swallowed, and altered her course. “I found out what happened to Ray.”

Her mom continued to remain silent, but Reagan heard her short intake of breath. Maybe she did have feelings for her brother.

“He died on the slopes while ice climbing. He was alone.”

“I’m not surprised. Danger always attracted him.”

“What else do you know about him?”

“Not much.”

“Well, obviously he knew a lot about me. He has pictures of me all across his mantle. Did you send him those?”

“No.” Her mom’s slight rise in voice could have been because she told the truth and didn’t know anything about the pictures, or it could have been because she was lying. Neither option appealed to Reagan.

“I’m almost thirty years old, mom. Those pictures date back to my toddler days and all the way up to now. At least half a dozen, maybe more. Where has he been all these years?”

“Probably there. Maybe in prison. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know, or you don’t care?”

“Look, there’s no way you could understand the particulars of my relationship with Ray, so don’t bother trying.”

“How could I understand when you won’t tell me anything?” Reagan’s voice teetered on the edge of anger and despair. She’d always felt hopeless with her mother. There was no talking sense to Sharon when she had an opinion. She held grudges forever.

“You weren’t named after Ray. You were named after your grandfather. I’m glad you arrived safely. I’ve got to go now.”

Her mom hung up before she had a chance to reply. Reagan hurled the phone to the bed with an exasperated cry.

No wonder she’d had a lifelong urge to settle, yet still couldn’t find happiness. Her mother had been cold and unsupportive for most her life. She should have called her dad, but he acted like he didn’t know Ray. He’d tell her to call Sharon with any questions. But at least he supported her in everything else.

She stopped at the French doors and shifted the heavy drapes to look outside, but the darkness only revealed her reflection. Moving aside, she rubbed her nose against the moose’s furry forehead.

“What are you doing?” Naomi asked as she entered the room, startling Reagan.

Reagan kept her back to Naomi. “Meeting Dr. Till.”

“Doctor who?”

“Dr. Till,” Reagan replied as she held up the moose. The name had just come to her, and it sounded right. Naomi would think she was crazy, but he felt like a sign to her. He represented the physical metaphor of her insecurities. “He was sitting here atop the bed, all propped up as if waiting for me,” she explained. “He’s my doctor until I get my head back on straight.”

“Reagan darling, no stuffed animal will help you get your head on straight.”

“I beg to differ. He’s a sign.”

“A sign of what?”

“That I’m doing the right thing.”

“Of course you’re doing the right thing. Was there ever any doubt?”

Plenty of doubt lingered in Reagan’s mind over the past few weeks, building up to this moment. She’d doubted her decision over leaving her job, over her hasty move here, and the doubts plaguing her about Ray would never end. Should she have run from her troubles, only to come to a new place and create new ones? Or now that she left Florida, were those troubles gone for good?

She’d left her job and her boyfriend before ever finding out about the money, as if destiny had chosen her path. Now she didn’t have to work, at least for a while. But she didn’t believe in fate, and she worried this would all be snatched from her as fast as it’d been given.

This moose was the first thing she’d spotted in the condo that felt like hers. Reagan turned to Naomi to tell her so, but gasped before she managed another sound. “Oh my god,” she said as she spotted a fading yellow brown bruise on Naomi’s face.

“Oh shit.” Backing away, Naomi covered her cheek with her hand.

“Oh shit is right. I didn’t notice that before.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what makeup is for.”

“What did it look like a few weeks ago?” Reagan asked. The fading marks indicated it hadn’t happened yesterday, and Reagan could only imagine how it had happened. “Don’t tell me you ran into the door again.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it?” Reagan advanced on Naomi and studied the bruise, swiping at it with her finger as if it could be that easily removed. She felt guilty that she hadn’t noticed it before. Sure, she’d been preoccupied, but she had to improve quickly if she was that unobservant. “How did I miss this?”

Naomi shrugged. “I’m good with makeup. I do fashion consulting for a living. I have certain tricks.”

Reagan dropped her hand and stepped away. “You’re seeing Caleb again.”

“No,” Naomi said, avoiding Reagan’s gaze. “Just don’t worry about it. I don’t want to talk about it so drop the subject, okay?”

“You’re seeing him again.” It wasn’t a question. Reagan couldn’t hide her disappointment. Caleb had been an on-again off-again fixture in Naomi’s life since high school. Every time Naomi hooked up with someone, Caleb showed up on Naomi’s doorstep. Reagan wondered how many chances Naomi would give him before she realized he wasn’t going to change.

“I’m not seeing him anymore.”

“But you were.”

“We’re just friends. And he didn’t do this.”

“No, I’m sure you just happened to run into the wall he shoved you into.”

“Reagan,” Naomi said in warning, holding up her hand to fend off any more words. “You couldn’t possibly understand.”

“Stop telling me what I will or won’t understand.” First her mom, now Naomi. As if the lost relationships in her life weren’t worth commiserating. Maybe her relationship with her ex had been superficial, but it didn’t mean she didn’t hurt at his deception.

She wanted a husband and kids, the proverbial white picket fence with a dog and two cats. Her biological clock was just like every woman she knew, and hers was close to expiring. But she wasn’t willing to sacrifice her integrity for that white picket fence.

Not anymore. Not after Kyle. Not after the job she’d put her life into only to have it all turn on her.

“I’m sorry.” Naomi slipped her arm around Reagan and tweaked the moose’s ear with her free hand.

“It’s okay.” Reagan looped her arm around Naomi’s back and leaned into the crook of her neck.

She didn’t want to fight. She’d already gone a few rounds with her mom and didn’t want another. When she’d found out about the condo, Naomi had been the first person — the only person — she’d wanted to come with her.

They stood together, facing the drapes as if waiting for it to open and welcome the encore of their life. Seeing Naomi like this reminded her they were both here for a reason, even reasons neither could explain.

And they’d both rather leave their past behind.

Chapter Three

Reagan opened her eyes the next morning and stretched, eager to greet the new day. Soft burgundy cotton sheets enticed her to burrow under the covers, but she could hardly wait to see the view outside.

The sun slipped through partially opened drapes. She hopped out of bed and dressed in her lush, cherry colored robe, the one thing she’d splurged on before coming on this trip. Her shoddy pink slippers, the one thing she should have splurged on but didn’t, went on next. Grabbing Dr. Till, she opened the glass doors in her room and stepped out on the deck.

It was cold. Icy, icy cold. She clutched the moose and huddled underneath the robe as she appreciated the view, more spectacular than she’d imagined.

Mountains. From one end of the earth to another. White layered the massive jagged peaks. A delicatessen with frosting. On her left, pine trees braced slopes that plunged into a rocky gullet of an iced creek. To the right, skiers ascended a lift, only to skirt trees and mountains in their descent, their path creating a sketch of lines as they slipped past her view.

“You’re letting in the cold.” Naomi, draped in a heavy blanket and heavier boots, stepped outside and closed the door Reagan had left open. “And I’m in serious need of Starbucks.”

Reagan was too engrossed with the beauty to let the cold or her lack of morning caffeine bother her. This beauty was unlike anything she’d seen on the Florida coast, or any coast for that matter. The rich Florida sky lacked the detail of mountainous peaks and the crispy bouquet of unspoiled terrain. Where in Florida she’d be gaping out into the blues and greens of the water that loomed forever beyond her, here she gazed out into the blues and greens of ravaging cliffs and mountains that loomed forever around her. They both held their own allure, but this view felt more pristine, more fascinating.

More treacherous.

Just what she needed to begin her new and adventurous life. She’d given seven years of her life to a graphic design career that hadn’t given her a coveted advancement because the new girl had bigger boobs. Or at least that’s how she saw it.

She’d given two years of her life to a man who’d stopped sleeping with her but didn’t have any problems having another woman in their bed. Her parents’ vagrancy during her childhood left her restless, which is why she’d survived two years with a man she didn’t love and seven years with a job that barely paid the bills.

Kyle and her job had been her security blanket. A way to prove to herself she could stay in one place and be happy. But she hadn’t been happy. Only complacent.

“With a view like this, I’ll never have to wake with coffee again.” Reagan licked her lips, tasting the fresh, candied tang of cold. Last night, she’d been restive and unsure. These mountains, rising and dipping into and out of the earth, offered a recklessness she desperately wanted to experience.

“I agree,” Naomi said, shoving her elbow in Reagan’s ribs.

She turned in the direction Naomi all but forced her to look, and had to fight to keep her jaw from dropping.

“Morning,” a man said, tipping his coffee cup in a salute. Bundled in a dark green hooded parka and matching pants, he looked as if he knew how to dress for the weather.

Something she, obviously, didn’t.

He stood three feet away on his own deck. Winter garb covered him from head to toe, but his magnetic eyes allied the colors of the mountains — minus the snow. Green and blue, piercing her with their potency. Licking her lips again, shards of pain inflamed them as if she’d just kissed a cactus.

His lips looked as if he’d been kissed by the snow. A glaze of hair dusted his cheekbones. She wished he’d remove the hood to confirm if his hair was the same color, the color of the golden sand on the Florida beach illuminated by the setting sun. Only, the sun ascended, much like her hormones.

She recognized him from some of the pictures on the mantle, but the pictures didn’t do him justice.

Her ankles prickled. Her nose stung.

“It’s pretty cold out here to be dressed like that.” His eyes slid down her body and his mouth crinkled in a smile when he saw her clutching the moose.

Cold? Her body defied the cold, shifting to a prickling heat as his gaze burned into her. Her teeth chattered, and she tried not to look absurd as she smiled.