TAKE A CHANCE (Chance Colorado Series) (28 page)

“You sure you don’t want to reconsider that?” he asked. “Logan’s not going to take that message very well, you know.”

“I don’t care how he takes that message.” Any more than he’d cared about her when he took his pants off at Shayla’s this afternoon. “Whatever I thought we had between us, I was wrong. It’s over. I don’t care anymore.”

“If you’re sure that’s what you want.” Tanner continued to study her for a moment longer. “You gonna be okay?”

“Eventually,” she answered honestly, as the damned unstoppable tears started to leak down her cheeks again.

He gave her a big hug, patting her back like a man unused to comforting anyone. “You can call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay,” she answered, knowing she never would.

She turned her back and walked away, not waiting to see him get back in the truck and leave.

She had meant what she said about being okay. She had every intention of putting this all behind her. Eventually. It was only that right at this moment in time, she felt as though
eventually
might take centuries to get here.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Logan felt as though he’d been punched in the gut.

There was no mistaking Tanner’s pickup, not even looking through the drizzle-covered windshield. No one else in the valley drove a huge white beast of a truck with red lightning bolts racing down either side. Curiosity as to why his friend would have stopped at the Vaca Vista Inn on his way to Grand Junction drew Logan off the highway and into the parking lot.

Within minutes, he had all the answers he could stomach. A deft U-turn had him back on the highway, headed home.

Tanner and Allie. At the Vaca Vista Inn, known for miles to be
the
place to go for a quick afternoon rendezvous. If he hadn’t seen them with his own two eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it—the two of them huddling so close together, the kiss, the embrace.

He’d left then. He couldn’t bear the thought of watching them walk into the inn together, knowing what would come next.

It all made sense now. The repeated calls Tanner had received while the doctor was there, his insistence on going to get Logan’s meds, his comment about already planning to head that direction—everything fit.

Everything except how sure he’d been that Allie was the one. Everything except the way she’d gazed into his eyes as he’d held her in his arms last night and all the nights before. Everything except the genuine happiness he’d been so sure he’d heard in her voice this morning when he’d called to invite her to meet him for dinner.

He pulled his truck to a stop in front of the fire station and slammed his palm against the steering wheel. No, it didn’t make sense. None of it. At least, it wouldn’t have before Allie’s call this afternoon.

It might make sense if she believed he’d cheated on her. If he’d let her down like all the other men in her life had, that might explain her running to another man.

But it didn’t make sense that Tanner would agree to be that other man.

Logan climbed out of his truck and walked slowly back into the station, holding his chest as if his heart had sustained a physical wound.

It hurt. It hurt that she hadn’t trusted him enough to ask him what had happened. It hurt that she’d jumped to a faulty conclusion without even giving him a chance to tell her the truth. It hurt that she’d had so little faith in him.

He stood in the shadows for several minutes, staring at the bag of groceries he’d left on the table this afternoon, canned goods for the meal he had planned for tonight. Like a child possessed by a temper tantrum, he crossed the room and swept the bag to the floor. Overcome by the utter helplessness of his situation, he watched as the cans rolled in all directions.

A perfect metaphor for his life at this moment. Chaos. Out of control.

He gripped the back of the wooden chair and closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath before letting the air out slowly.

Too bad he was working tonight. A full bottle of something 80-proof sounded like the only thing that might dull the misery plaguing his heart. Instead, he headed for the counter and poured himself a cup of strong black coffee. It wouldn’t dull his senses or strip the memories from his mind, but it might occupy his hands long enough to keep him from digging them raw.

It wasn’t right that Allie had judged him solely based on what she’d been through in her past. She should have trusted him, just a little. If he’d been able to talk to her, he could have explained what had really happened. He could have assured her that he would never let her down. He couldn’t. He couldn’t because he was in love with her. But without even giving him a chance to defend himself, she had tried him and found him guilty.

Halfway to his mouth, his hand paused, splashing hot coffee over the edge of his cup as realization settled over him.

He
was
guilty. Guilty of doing the exact same thing he accused her of doing. Seeing her with Tanner, he’d judged her actions based solely on his own past experiences. How could he criticize her for having so little faith in him when he’d just demonstrated how little faith he had in her?

But it wasn’t too late—
please, God, don’t let it be too late!
—He wasn’t giving up. He was in love with her. He knew that now. He loved her and he would fight for her. He would fight for them. He would do whatever it took, for as long as it took, to get her back.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

“Up and at ’em, sweetie. You can’t hide under the covers for the rest of your life. Believe me, it won’t help.” Susie lifted the blankets in a large, sweeping move, exposing Allie to the bright light streaming in her windows. “I speak from experience, you know.”

“Ugh,” Allie responded, rolling to her stomach to bury her face in her pillow.

Staying in bed might not make things any better, but it kept her from having to deal with any of it, and that alone was worth retreating from the world.

“Logan called again yesterday. He wants to talk to you.”

“No!” She opened one eye to glare in her mother’s direction. “Absolutely, positively no way I’m having anything to do with him. Not now, not ever.”

Her mother’s skeptical look expressed what she didn’t need to say in words. Allie knew it would be impossible to avoid Logan forever in a town the size of Chance. But she intended to give it her best shot, and hiding in her room, under her covers, was one heck of a good start.

“Your call, I suppose,” her mother conceded. “But I would ask you to get up and get dressed. I need you to help me with something I can’t do myself.”

Allie sighed and rolled to her back before pushing up to sit. Her mother so rarely asked her to do anything, she could hardly refuse now. Wallowing in her own private misery would just have to wait for a little while.

“What can I do for you, Mom?”

“I’ve decided to rent out the apartment over the old garage, so it has to be emptied out.”

That explained why her mom needed help. The old garage had been Allie’s dad’s space, housing his office in what was originally built to be an apartment. Susie hadn’t set foot in the place since before her husband’s death.

“What brought this on?”

“A desire to pay bills, mostly,” Susie said with a sheepish smile. “I ran into Brent Corey yesterday when I went to the post office and we got to talking. He’s just sold the old Cheevers building and the woman who bought it is going to need a place to live until they can get some renovations done. I offered up the garage. But before she can move in—”

“We need to move all that old crap out,” Allie finished for her.

“Exactly. I have a stack of boxes I’ll take out there for you while you’re getting dressed, and then I’m going over to Mama Odie’s to pick up some more. I left a sandwich on the counter for you.”

“Thanks, Mom. You want me to pack it all up?” Heaven only knew how much stuff her father had stored in there.

Her mom shrugged, her expression veiled as she headed for the door. “Keep whatever you want, or anything you think Matt might want, and toss the rest. I don’t want any of it.”

And yet her mom told
her
not to hide under the covers. Allie shook her head and climbed into the shower.

“Maybe that’s how she knows it doesn’t work,” Allie mused before sticking her head under the hot water.

After two days of hiding out in her room feeling sorry for herself, the shower felt heavenly. Her heart might be broken, but that didn’t mean life wouldn’t go on.

She grabbed the sandwich on her way out the back door, stopping to admire what a beautiful, warm day she had to attack this task, though it must have been cool earlier this morning because the smell of wood smoke wisped in the air if she breathed deeply. Another month or two and they’d all be firing up their woodstoves.

She headed out across the field toward the old building halfway between their house and her grandparents’ home, the two-story garage apartment. When she’d been little, she’d often imagined that one day, after her dad had retired and didn’t need an office anymore, she would move into this apartment and fill the walls with shelves of her beloved books.

Of course, she’d also imagined that soon after that she’d marry Logan and live happily ever after.

Life hadn’t worked out at all like she’d imagined.

“But I do still have my books,” she said, grunting as she put her shoulder against one of the big doors to push it open.

Dust lifted on the air currents, sparkling like little jewels floating thorough the air as the tiny bits drifted through a sunbeam. A short coughing fit later, Allie amended that mental picture to tiny, fuzzy floating jewels.

Along with the stack of collapsed boxes, her mom had left a pair of plastic gloves, a box of trash bags, and a set of keys.

“Good call, Mom,” she said, slipping on the gloves.

Considering how long the rooms had remained untouched, there was no telling what kind of creepy-crawlies she’d bump into. That thought gave her pause, but not for long. If she didn’t clean it out, they’d have to hire someone to do it and there was no money to hire anyone to do anything. It was her or nothing.

With the boxes tucked under one arm and the trash bags under the other, she climbed the stairs and fit the big antique key into the lock. When she walked inside, she felt as if a memory capsule had been unlocked, and for just a moment, she wished more than anything that Matt were here with her to keep her from facing this on her own.

Not that she’d spent much time up here. This had always been Dad’s special place, and no one was allowed inside except when he invited them in, which wasn’t often.

Maybe that was why it felt so strange to be in here now, as if she were creeping around like a trespasser.

She dropped the boxes in the center of the room beside his old desk and steeled herself to peek into each of the adjoining rooms. Surprisingly, this job might not take nearly as much effort as she’d imagined. The bedroom was completely empty, if you ignored the huge spider web in the corner, which was exactly what she was going to do until she could drag a vacuum cleaner up here to deal with any eight-legged beasties.

A quick scan of the bathroom revealed only a few personal items in the drawers and medicine chest, so she tossed a trash bag in there to fill later. The kitchen was equally sparse—a coffeepot, one cup and a couple of hand towels.

That left the one bookshelf and her father’s desk.

The books were a no-brainer. She boxed them to take to the Hand. They could all go into the used-book sales area.

Her father’s desk was another matter. It felt almost like an invasion of his privacy to sit in his chair, preparing to go through his things, but this had to be done. It would be easier if she kept it impersonal. This needed to be a ruthless cleaning, as if it belonged to someone she’d never met. If it didn’t have some obvious sentimental value, it went straight in the trash.

The top drawer was filled with pens and notepads and plastic letter openers, all bearing the logos of various companies, no doubt advertising giveaways her dad had picked up at the sales conferences he’d so frequently traveled to attend. As a business supply store junkie, these were the sorts of things she could dither over all day if she allowed herself the luxury. Keep, don’t keep?

“Ruthless,” she reminded herself, and dumped the entire contents of the drawer into a large black trash bag.

There. She’d set the tone. It should be easier now.

The first big filing drawer was stuffed full. File after file that looked like they were filled with copies of orders and correspondence from her father’s years as a salesman. If no one had needed this stuff up to now, they’d likely never need it. She dumped all the files into a second bag, intending to shred or burn these papers since they might contain personal information about his customers.

It was apparent to her by now that her father hadn’t been the type to keep photos or knickknacks in his desk or on his bookshelf, so this whole task was going much more quickly and painlessly than she’d imagined it might. One more drawer full of business files to toss and she’d be done.