He’s no hero...

But he’s her only hope

Trey Haymaker left his Texas ranch to escape his problems—not become entangled in someone else’s. Yet when Lisa Duprey asks him to help find her missing grandfather, the cowboy in him feels duty-bound to assist her. As their search intensifies, Lisa and Trey have only each other to rely on. But after the betrayals of his past, can Trey trust her with his secrets...and his heart?

ANGEL SMITS shares a big yellow house, complete with gingerbread and a porch swing, in Colorado with her husband, daughter and Maggie, their border collie mix. Winning the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart® Award was the highlight of her writing career, until her first Harlequin book hit the shelves. Her social-work background inspires her characters, while improv writing allows her to torture them. It’s a rough job, but someone’s got to do it.

Also by Angel Smits

A Chair at the Hawkins Table

A Family for Tyler

The Marine Finds His Family

Cowboy Daddy

The Ballerina’s Stand

Last Change at the Someday Cafe

Addie Gets Her Man

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

A Cowboy at Heart

Angel Smits

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09645-4

A COWBOY AT HEART

© 2019 Angel Smits

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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“Why are you here, Trey?”

Lisa asked the question before she could stop herself.

“Uh, we’re looking for your grandfather, remember?” He was laughing at her again.

“No.” She leaned forward. The room was no longer cold, and she was warmed up from the inside out. “In Telluride. Why did you come to Colorado? You’re not from here.”

“What gave it away? The boots?” He grinned at her, stacking his feet on the old coffee table. His boots were across the room and she glanced over at them, noting the scuffed leather. Well-worn, the dark brown boots had seen better days.

“That—and the accent. Texas, right?”

“Yeah.” He stared down into his drink. Was he wondering how much to tell her? If he should lie? Was this all a lie...?

To all my Super Sisters, for inviting me in, sharing your wisdom and mostly for the wonderful friendship you’ve given me.

And as always, for my forever hero, Ron.

Dear Reader,

When word came that the Harlequin Superromance line was closing, it was a sad day for me. My series A Chair at the Hawkins Table was nearly finished and I was looking forward to hopefully adding to it, as well as bringing new characters and story lines to my readers. The uncertainty was a challenge, but the editors at Harlequin were wonderful and worked to make sure no one missed out.

I was thrilled when the last of the original six books, Addie Gets Her Man, was released as one of the final books under the Harlequin Superromance banner. It was a bittersweet but special last hurrah. Things got even better when the Harlequin Heartwarming line offered me a new home and extended the invitation to continue the series.

Many of you will recognize Trey Haymaker from the series, most specifically from Cowboy Daddy. He has been strong in my head from the beginning, and readers have wondered what happened to him. Well, now you’ll get the chance to learn his story. I’m so grateful to Harlequin Heartwarming for welcoming both Trey and me. And luckily for Trey, we also found Lisa. She’s a perfect fit—and contrast—for him.

I love to hear from readers, and I look forward to introducing the Hawkins clan to a whole new group with Harlequin Heartwarming! Thank you for inviting me and joining me on this new journey.

Angel Smits

AngelSmits.com

angel@angelsmits.com

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dedication

Dear Reader

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

OLD PEOPLE DIDN’T tend to barhop, at least not in Trey Haymaker’s experience. They tended to find a barstool and plant their backside on it for the duration of their stay. This afternoon, one of the three regulars took up space along the polished wood, which meant the other two couldn’t be far behind.

“What can I getcha, Win?” Trey asked the skinny septuagenarian parked on the corner stool. Winston Ross was one of the few people Trey had known before moving here. The old man owned the cabin up in the mountains outside town that Trey, and his grandfather, had frequented over the years.

Those memories had made Trey reluctant to contact the man when he’d first arrived in Telluride. He hadn’t been sure he wanted to face the past, the pain that always came with the reminder of his grandfather’s betrayal. But fate had had other plans when she’d given Trey a job in the very bar that Win frequented.

Funny how small towns worked like that.

Looking at Win now—his weathered face, his stooped shoulders, his dimmed blue eyes—Trey saw time’s evidence.

Win had grown up here in Telluride, in the center of the Colorado mountains. He’d been a boy before the ski boom, before the old mining town had grown into nearly a city. Trey remembered hearing stories about how Win’s dad had run the gas station, and how in high school, Win’d started working there. Win’s knack for fixing a car had been the secret to not just working for his dad at the station, but to eventually becoming a partner, and ultimately the owner. Townsfolk and tourists alike had kept him in business for years.

Today, though, the old gas station was long gone, and a convenience store stood on that prime piece of real estate. Win was now retired, spending his days with his cronies, instead of under the hood of a car.

For the thousandth time, Trey wished Win could be his granddad, instead of that old—

Trey shook his head, focusing on Win’s words instead of the old pain.

“Same as usual.”

“You got it.” Trey pulled the highball glass out, and, as he fixed the drink, he kept one eye on his friend. “You okay?” Was Win paler tonight, or was it just the lighting?

“I’m fine. Or at least I will be once you finish pouring.” He rubbed his gnarled hands together in anticipation, the rough rasp of his outdoor-worn skin loud even in the noisy bar.

Trey slid the glass over the polished bar, the ice softly clinking when the glass came to a stop at Win’s elbow. “The others coming in tonight?” Usually, Hap and Sam were here before Trey finished pouring.

“S’posed to be, but I ain’t seen ’em yet.” Win stared down at the drink. Was he also wondering where his buddies were? They were getting up in years...

The door opened then, and a cold wind came in with a flurry of snowflakes. Sam held the door open for Hap, who pushed his walker slowly through the doorway. A pile of snow caught on the front of the tennis balls he’d shoved on the metal feet, and a puddle quickly formed as it melted. Trey made a mental note to wipe it up.

“Where ya boys been?” Win called, lifting his drink in a silent salute before taking an exaggerated, taunting sip.

“Ah, shuddup,” Hap grumbled as he reached the barstool beside Win. He nodded at the drink. “Gimme one of them, Trey.” He glared at Trey. “Maybe two.”

“Yes, sir.” Trey fought the smile. He didn’t take Hap’s glare personally. Hap glared at everyone.

Sam, on the other hand, grinned wide and took the farthest barstool, lumbering his big frame up onto it. The sheriff’s badge on his coat glinted as he shrugged the garment off. “I’ll stick with beer.”

That wasn’t new, either. Trey couldn’t remember the man ever drinking anything else. Once he’d finished serving their drinks, Trey leaned against the back bar, watching the trio.

What had they been like back in the day? He wished he could have seen them. Known them. They had to have been quite a wild bunch. And even though he was quite a bit younger, Sam told tales of how he’d tagged along with the older boys. Trey smiled at the image.

He glanced over the half-dozen others in the bar, and then to the window where snow fell on the other side of the glass. Thick, big flakes of cold and damp. It was going to be a quiet night. He could afford to kick back and watch.

“Whatcha think about that?” Hap interrupted Trey’s thoughts as he leaned forward to catch Trey’s eye. “I think he’s full of baloney.”

Though Trey hadn’t heard the whole conversation, he didn’t have to ask who or what Hap was referring to. Win and Hap had this same argument every time they came in here. The razzing went on as usual.

“I don’t listen to all your crap,” Trey said, a smile to contradict his denial firmly in place.

“Ah, come on.” Win slammed the empty glass to the bar. “Sure, you do. Yer a bartender. Best listeners on the planet.” He shoved the glass toward Trey. “Bet you got plenty of stories to share.”

Trey shook his head and refilled the glass. “I might listen, but I don’t gossip.”

“Good man,” Sam said. He nodded and took a healthy swig from the long-neck bottle.

“Humph.” Hap finished his drink, too, and mimicked Win’s movements to ask for another.

While Hap waited, he turned awkwardly, digging in his pocket, and for an instant, Trey thought the old guy was going to fall off the stool. “You ain’t foolin’ us, boy.”

Hap finally turned back around and pointed a bent finger at Trey, who breathed a sigh of relief as Hap regained his balance.

Hap had grabbed an envelope from the pocket of his jacket. It was worn and crumpled, like someone had tried to destroy it at one time.

Ancient cellophane tape had yellowed in several places. “What’s that?” Win leaned toward his friend and indicated the envelope with a hitch of his chin. “Looks older than dirt. Hell, looks like it’s been in dirt.” He cackled as if his comment was actually funny. “You out diggin’ in the cemetery or something, Hap? High school reunion?” Macabre humor was never beyond these guys.

Was that a growl that left Hap’s throat?

Whatever had been written on the outside of the envelope, if anything legible had been, was nearly worn away. Lifting the tattered flap, Hap pulled out another ancient piece of paper. Carefully, as if it were something precious, he spread it out on the bar top.

To Trey, it resembled some kid’s scribbles more than writing. Hap reached into the envelope again and pulled out a second sheet of paper. A half page.

“A telegram?” Win asked. Hap nodded. “When did you get that?”

“I didn’t.” He glanced at Win. “Your dad did.”

“What?” Win frowned.

“I was a-cleaning up the back porch. Millie is nagging me to think about that retirement community they’re a-building up the road. Now, I ain’t sayin’ I’m willing to go there, but I gotta make her believe I’m at least considering it.”

“Would you get on with it?” Sam prodded.

“Hurumph.” Hap pushed the old telegram another inch toward Win. “I just found this. It was in a box I’d packed up years ago when I retired from the shop. Haven’t looked in it since. Thought it was all mine. Didn’t know there was any of your stuff in it.”

Win hesitated before reaching for the telegram. Trey put one of his bartender superpowers to work—reading upside down. There wasn’t much on the page, so it wasn’t hard. Sent a map of our find. Will be in the post soon. Yours and Mom’s if I don’t come home. Love, Duncan.

“Duncan? Your brother Duncan?” Sam asked.

Silence was the only answer for a long minute. Win stared. Sam waited. Hap glared. And Trey pretended not to notice any of it. Finally, Winston took a deep breath. “Yeah.” He looked up at Trey. “My older brother. He didn’t come home from Vietnam.” He said it with the rhyme of a curse word.

The word caught Trey’s ear, and he froze, his smile vanishing.

“Vietnam.” Hap repeated it and Trey saw the other two nod. Were these guys vets? They were the right age. Same as his granddad. Trey cringed. Was that how Pal Senior had met Win? He’d never heard that story.

Trey’s mind tripped back to all the other stories his grandfather had shared with every man who’d ever worked on the ranch. Back to a time when he’d believed every word the old man said.

A bitter taste rose up in Trey’s throat, and he shoved away from the bar. His heart picked up a beat, and he curled his hands into fists. Curses echoed in his mind. This was so not why he was here. He’d come to Telluride so he could be totally on his own, to leave his past behind.

Trey grabbed a mop and headed to clean up the puddle Hap had made coming in, but that did little to distract him as their voices still carried across the nearly empty room.

“What’s he mean by find?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know.” Win reached out and grabbed the page of scribbles, the crinkle of the paper cutting through Trey’s well-intentioned escape.

Win turned the page around half a dozen times before saying, “Nothing on this ‘map’ looks familiar to me.”

“Are you kidding?” Hap said. “This here—it’s the peak over near the falls. Just past where they’re a-building that retirement community Millie’s so in love with.”

“How can you be so sure of that?”

“I’ve seen enough brochures of the place—I can find it in my sleep. And look.” He turned the makeshift map into the light. “Here’s the highway and this is that old ski run. See?”

The two men leaned forward and tried to see what Hap was showing them. Trey gave up trying to keep his distance and went to join them. Curiosity just might kill him.

“You know anything about this?” Sam asked Win.

The air hung thick and full of something Trey didn’t want to take time to identify.

Finally, Win shook his head. “I was a kid when he left.” Win’s faded eyes grew distant. “I remember goin’ to the funeral more than I remember him.” He chuckled softly, not happily. “Jumped half a foot when the twenty-one-gun salute echoed across the valley. All the grown-ups were crying.” He shook his head and reached for the glass Trey set in front of him. His hand wasn’t as steady this time when he took a deep swallow.

Trey saw more than that in Win’s eyes, which met his briefly before skittering away. With a whispered curse, Win climbed down off the barstool. “I’m done, boys.” He shrugged his jacket on and walked slowly to the door. “Put the drink on my tab, Trey. See ya.” And he disappeared into the night.

“Well.” Hap sighed. “That was a waste of time.”

“What were you trying to do, exactly?” Sam asked.

“Get information about this ‘find.’ It’s gotta be a treasure.”

“You’re an old fool. What do you need a treasure for?”

“Are you nuts?” Hap smacked a gnarled hand on the metal walker at his side. “To keep me outta one of them places.”

Sam pursed his lips and lifted his beer to drink. He didn’t say any more. When the bottle was empty, he stood. “Come on, Hap. Let’s go. The weather is getting rough out there.”

“But I ain’t done drinking.”

“Yeah, you are. Let’s go.” Sam tossed a couple of bills on the bar. “Keep the change,” he said to Trey.

Hap grumbled but grabbed hold of his walker anyway. The papers were still on the bar. Trey picked up the glasses and pushed the papers closer to the edge so Hap could reach them.

“Just toss those in the trash,” Sam told him. “No one’s looking for any stupid treasure.” He gave Hap a meaningful glare.

“You always were a stick in the mud, Sam.” But Hap didn’t grab the papers. He turned the walker toward the door and headed home.

Trey stared at the old pages. No way was this the end of it. After putting the glasses in the sink and wiping down the polished wood surface, he carefully folded the old pages and put them back into the envelope. He wasn’t buying the idea that there was any treasure, but there was no way he’d be the one to toss Hap’s dreams into the trash.

No way. He hit No Sale on the cash register and shoved the envelope in where the checks normally went. There was plenty of room as no one used checks these days. Tomorrow, he’d give it back to the three men.

* * *

LISA DUPREY HURRIED across the parking lot, praying the wind wouldn’t catch her skirt. As it was, she was freezing. The calendar might say spring was coming, but the breeze blowing off the Rockies was still full of winter snow.

Finally, she reached the big glass door emblazoned with the frosted image of a steaming pot of soup and a ladle. She loved the company’s logo. Simple, yet it looked warm and inviting. A Taste of Home—Catering and Heartfelt Events.

Who was she kidding? It wasn’t just the logo; she loved everything about her job and her life right now.

Stepping into the lobby, Lisa hurried in, but halfway to the kitchens, froze. Where was Trudy? The receptionist always sat at her desk. When Lisa came in every day, every time she went out to an event, every night when she went home, Trudy was there. She often teased the older woman that she had a bed stuffed under the desk and didn’t really go home at night.

But Trudy wasn’t there now.

Silence surrounded Lisa, and she stood still for a moment, listening, waiting. And then she heard voices. Distant voices. One male, deep, commanding. Marco. The other soft, feminine. That had to be Trudy. They were in the kitchen.

Hurrying down the short hall, Lisa pulled open another glass door and stepped into the gleaming white kitchen area—Marco’s pride and joy. Sunshine poured in the south-facing wall of windows, glowing off the polished floor and counters.

“But you can’t mean it, Marco. That’s so...so wrong.”

“It’s the truth, Trudy. I’m sorry.” His voice was no longer commanding. It sounded—he sounded—defeated.

“But what am I going to do?”

“Pack up and start looking for another job,” he said softly. Was that a hitch in his voice?

“Marco? Trudy?” Lisa called their names to get their attention. Both of them spun around, staring at her, as if surprised she was there.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Lisa said, pulling off her coat and draping it over the tall chair at the raised counter. “What’s going on?”

“M...Marco says we’re closing.” Trudy’s voice shook as she clasped and unclasped her hands together.

“What?” Lisa froze, her breath stuck in her chest. “What do you mean, closing? Like, for the day?” Was there some holiday she’d forgotten?

“No. Forever.” Marco’s voice faded on the last word.

“But...what about all the new clients? The events we’re scheduled to handle?” They’d all been so thrilled when Robert had brought the contracts in. Marco had even taken them all to lunch to celebrate. She moved closer to stop beside Trudy and look at the papers spread out on the table. She hadn’t started working on most of these jobs yet, but she was supposed to meet with Robert in the next few days to get the details.

“All gone. All lies. A ruse to distract us while he stole everything.” Marco threw his hands in the air, and, turning away, he stalked across the big expanse of the prep area. “I’ve got some calls to make. To tell the few real clients we have that we can’t cater their events.” And with that, he disappeared into his office. The door slammed with a loud wham, and, in the quiet it left behind, she heard the lock click.

“Trudy? What happened? We were just voted Best of Denver.” Lisa looked around, as if the appliances or counters held some answers. “Where’s Robert?” Marco’s partner was usually here well before any of them got in.

“That’s the problem.” Trudy threw her hands up in the air, similar to Marco’s dramatic move, only more defeated. “We don’t know.” She reached behind her, to the stack of papers that sat on the counter. She tossed them dramatically into the air. “These are fake. Lies. All lies.” As the papers fell around them, Trudy’s eyes filled with tears. “He took everything. The money Marco gave him to buy the supplies, he just took it. Cleaned out every penny from the accounts. No money. No supplies. No customers.” Trudy stumbled to the door, toward her abandoned desk. “No job.” Her sob broke the silence.

Lisa swallowed. No job? No. It wasn’t possible. She loved this job. She needed this job. Silence was Lisa’s only answer. What was she supposed to do now?

An hour later, the meager contents of her desk packed into a couple of vegetable boxes, Lisa sat in her car staring at the beautiful brand-new building. Marco had poured everything he had into designing this place. He loved it. And when he’d hired her last fall to be the event coordinator, she’d been so happy, she’d cried in his office. His success had given her a place to build the career she’d only dreamed of before.

Now all of it was gone? A gust of cold wind shook her little car, and she shivered. Still, she didn’t start it and drive away. She smacked the steering wheel.

How could someone fake doing a job? What was wrong with actually doing your job? There were plenty of customers wanting Marco’s amazing food, her decorations and entertainment. They created magic together.

Magic that was apparently no more than dollars to Robert.

She’d been an idiot! She’d worked with him every day for months. How had she not seen that part of him? Thinking back now, she realized she didn’t really know anything about him.

He hadn’t told her anything about himself, hadn’t shared any personal information.

Lisa’s hands shook, from cold as much as from her anger, as she reached for her purse. She would have to—she froze, almost literally...do what?

Rummaging around in her purse, she pulled out her phone. She needed someone to talk to. Someone to spill her hurt all over, who’d listen and not chastise her for trusting so blindly.

Jack’s face came to mind. But her ex-none-too-supportive-idiot boyfriend had told her not to leave her other job. Thank goodness, he was her ex and she wouldn’t have to tell him anything.

A weird sense of déjà vu made her cringe. She’d thought she’d known Jack, too. But just like Robert, Jack had been a liar.

No, she couldn’t go back to that. Back to where Jack had left her. Back to... No!

As if on cue, her phone rang. Not Jack, thankfully. Her mother. Lisa gulped.

“Hello.” She might as well break it to her now and get it over with. She’d have to talk to her mother about this at some point anyway.

“Hello, dear.” Mom’s familiar voice was a welcome long-distance hug. “How are you? I haven’t heard from you for a while.”

“Oh, uh—” How did you tell your mother that the job you’d been raving about for months was no more? That it was all over.

“Oh, Mom!” Her carefully planned conversation turned into a whimper. “I lost my job.” And a wail.

“Oh, hon. What happened?”

The words stuck in her throat for a moment, then came rushing out. “The boss is closing the business.” She tried to regain control of her emotions, with little success. “One of my coworkers was a dirty rotten crook and took all the money. Marco can’t keep the business open.”

“I’m so sorry, dear. That’s awful. I know you really liked that job.”

“I did.” Sadness swept through her. “I don’t know what I’ll do now.”

“Everything will be fine. You’ll get another job quick. I’m sure of it. You can always go back to Dusty’s.”

No way. No way was she returning to her old job. Not just because Jack was there, though that was part of it. It would mean admitting defeat. She might be down, but she wasn’t out.

“I’ll find something,” she declared.

“That’s my girl. I’m sure you’ll land something better.”

“I hope so. Thanks, Mom.” Her mother always had a way of making things seem much better than they really were.

“Lisa, the reason I called...” Her mother took a deep breath. “Have you talked to your grandfather lately?”

“Uh, no.” That was a bit out of left field. “Should I have?”

“No. But I haven’t heard from him and I’m a bit worried. I usually call him every Tuesday, but this week he didn’t answer, and he hasn’t phoned me back.”

“Do you think there’s something wrong?”

“I hope not. I’m sure Hap or the sheriff would get in touch with me if something had happened. No, I’m afraid he’s up to something and you know how that goes.”

She did. Everyone did. Grandpa was the king of schemes. He’d always been a dreamer. He’d been one of her biggest champions, encouraging her to follow her own dreams. Her mother and grandmother had talked of all the ideas he’d had over the years, few of which Grandma had ever let come to fruition.

“Maybe—”

“Maybe what?” Somehow, Lisa didn’t think this was a good maybe.

“Now that you’re unemployed for a bit, maybe you could take a trip up to Telluride and check on him.”

“Mom, I don’t have the time—”

“For your family?” There was an edge to Mom’s voice that made Lisa remember “the look” her mother had given her whenever she’d done something naughty. “I’d go, but you know your father and I are leaving for the cruise this week. Your sister can’t go because the kids have school, and your brother is working.”

Lisa sighed. Remind me to get a family and a job soon. “I’ll check on Grandpa,” she agreed, but not without a heavy sigh. The nagging bit of worry was only part of the reason she agreed.

“Oh, thank you, dear. You know I’d do it myself if I really thought it was a serious problem.” And she would. Mom was a great mother and a good daughter. Family was important to her.

As long as the dreams weren’t too big.

CHAPTER TWO

LISA SLIPPED HER PHONE back into her purse just as Trudy came out the front door. As Lisa had, she carried a battered box of belongings—the contents of her desk crammed into a single square foot of space. Her purse, the suitcase version, hung off her shoulder. Where was her coat? Did she even have one?

The older woman looked as lost as Lisa felt. Lisa couldn’t let her leave without a decent goodbye.

Despite the cold wind, Lisa climbed out of her finally warm car and hurried over to where Trudy struggled to heft the box into her trunk. A faded brown coat nestled on the floor of the trunk.

“Let me help.” The wind tried to rip her words away, but Trudy’s nod told Lisa she’d heard. Together, they managed to get the box settled in the trunk.

The older woman forced a smile through her slowly freezing tears. “Thanks, hon. I’m just so—”

“I know.” She got Trudy’s arms into her coat and helped her zip it up. “Where are you going now?”

Trudy shrugged and looked out over the nearly empty parking lot. Marco’s car was the only other one left. “I guess...home.”

“So, you do have one.” Lisa joked, trying to make the woman smile. It almost worked. “How about I buy you a coffee?” She pulled her own coat closer around her. “I’m—I’m not ready to be alone yet.”

Trudy appeared relieved. “Me, either. But I’ll buy my own. We’re both going to be without a paycheck soon.”

“Come on.” Lisa headed to her car. “I’ll drive.”

Trudy shook her head. “I’ll take my car.” She looked back over her shoulder. “I don’t want to come back here to get it.”

“I understand.” Lisa headed to her car and they each drove to the coffee shop down the street. Lisa pulled into her usual spot, her eyes taking in the familiar facade. How many times had she come here on break or for lunch? This might be her last visit. Lisa blinked her eyes. It wouldn’t do any good to sob in her coffee.

Trudy pulled up beside her, and they braved the weather again to step into the warm, coffee-scented café. It was busy—the whirr of the coffee machines, the soft conversations and the piped-in music filled the air around them. So familiar.

Trudy squared her shoulders and shoved the gigantic purse up more firmly on her shoulder. “I don’t know about you,” she looked sideways at Lisa, “but I’m going to just pretend this is my lunch break.”

“Denial sounds like a lovely plan.” Lisa nodded and followed Trudy to one of the back booths. It might be a long lunch break today.

“Hey, ladies.” Mindy, the young waitress who worked here most days, carried the coffee carafe to the table with a smile. “The usual?” she asked Trudy.

“I—I’m not sure yet.”

Mindy’s smile faded. “Are you okay?”

Trudy’s eyes filled with tears, and Lisa put her hand over Trudy’s. She looked up at Mindy. “Yes, the usual for Trudy. And I’ll take...” She glanced at the menu in front of her. “I’ll take a number three.” It was a big meal but why not? She had to eat today. They both did.

“Sure.” Mindy nodded. “I’ll get those started.” She left and headed to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” Trudy whispered. “I’m being silly. It’s not as if I can’t afford to retire or take some time off.”

That didn’t surprise Lisa. Trudy worked constantly. When did she have time to spend any of the money Marco had paid her? And he’d paid her well.

“But?” she prompted.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself.” She shrugged. “Work is all I have. My kids have scattered around the country. My husband is gone. I’m—” Trudy picked up her napkin and wiped her eyes. “I’m all alone.”

That explained why Trudy was always at work. “No, you’re not. You’ve got me.”

“Thank you, dear, you’re sweet, but you have your own life. You have things to do. I’m sure you’ll get another job soon.”

Mindy appeared just then, setting tall ice waters in front of them. Once she left again, Trudy tried to smile at Lisa.

“You’ll be busy job hunting yourself,” Lisa pointed out.

“I doubt I’ll have much luck. Few companies want to hire someone over fifty, much less over sixty.”

“There’s a lot to be said for experience.”

“I agree. But they don’t always think like we do.”

Trudy’s sadness gave Lisa something to focus on, to work on. So, for the next hour as they ate, she tried to cheer the other woman up.

Finally, when Mindy had brought their checks and cleared away most of the dishes, they couldn’t stall any longer. Trudy sighed and glanced out the window. “I guess I should be getting home to Fred and Ethel.”

Lisa nearly gave herself whiplash staring at the woman. “Who?” Trudy didn’t have any family at home—hadn’t she just said as much?

Trudy hesitated only an instant before the words spilled from her lips. “My prize-winning cockatoos.” For the first time all day, a genuine smile formed on Trudy’s face. She reached for her phone. “Here.” She turned the screen toward Lisa.

Two big white birds, with bright blue rims around their eyes and a plume of feathers on each of their heads, posed for the camera. “I—” Lisa was stunned. “You never even mentioned them before.”

“Oh, dear, of course not.” Trudy’s smile faded, and she leaned closer to Lisa, lowering her voice. “The competition is fierce, and my pair are now quite valuable. I couldn’t risk anything happening to them.”

“Oh.” Lisa frowned, too. “Why are you telling me now?”

Trudy shrugged. “I’m so proud of them. And it is hard to stay quiet about something this exciting. I trust you. You’ve really helped me today. Thank you.”

Trudy slid her finger over the screen. “Here we are when I won Grand Champion with them last year.”

“That’s stunning.” And they were. But so was the fact that Trudy had never said a word about them.

Lisa smiled. “You asked me what you should do now?” She pointed at the phone. “Focus on that.” She reached out and squeezed the woman’s hand. “Do what you enjoy. You’ve earned it.”

Trudy nodded, and this time her smile didn’t fade. “Thank you, dear. I’m going to miss you.”

“Oh, you’re not rid of me yet. But I need to get going, as well. My mom asked me to help her with something.”

“What’s that, dear?”

“My grandfather lives up in Telluride. This is a good excuse to go see what he’s up to. She hasn’t heard from him for a while and she’s a bit concerned.” That was putting it mildly.

“Oh, my dear, I hope he’s okay.”

Lisa smiled. “I’m sure he is. My mother worries about him, but he loves those mountains. Me, too.”

Trudy gathered up her purse. “That sounds like a great idea.” She stood, and Lisa followed. “I’m so glad we did this.”

After a heartfelt hug, they settled their bills and headed to their cars. Lisa watched until Trudy had left the parking lot before she started her car.

Looking in her rearview mirror to back out of the parking spot, Lisa met her own gaze. “At least I know you,” she said aloud. Maybe she should be more like Trudy. Less open.

She frowned. She wasn’t a liar, and wasn’t a lie of omission just as bad? Confused, she put the car into gear and got moving. Maybe a trip up to the mountains would do her good. It would help her clear her mind, and, once Grandpa came down from the hills, he’d help her focus on where to go next. He’d always been a good sounding board for her.

Four hours later, when Lisa finally reached Telluride, she walked between the piles of snow on either side of her grandfather’s sidewalk. Someone with their trusty snowblower had come through here, clearing a path from house to house. Nice of them, since she knew her grandfather didn’t have a snowblower. The mystery scooper had even cleared the walk going up to Grandpa’s front step. Only the last dusting of snow covered the stone.

But where the neighbors’ walks were packed down from footsteps, the walk to Granddad’s was still somewhat pristine. Her footsteps were the first ones there. Halfway up the sidewalk, she reached into her purse and pulled out the single key she kept in the inside pocket. A cowboy-boot-shaped key ring saved it from disappearing into the depths.

She pulled the screen door open and put the key into the lock. The little pressure she used was just enough to nudge the door to creak open slowly. She stared. What the—

Darkness was all that lay beyond.

Stale, closed-up air wafted out, bringing warmth out against the cold afternoon. But it wasn’t the usual warm, welcoming scent of her grandparents’ house. This scent held time in it.

“Grandpa?” she called, almost hoping she wouldn’t hear his voice. If he was in there, with the house shut up like this, so dark and sad, that would not be a good thing.

Slowly, she angled the door just a bit more and called for him again. Still no answer. Then she heard something. Footsteps? Heavy. Quick. Distant. “Grandpa?” She took a couple of steps through the door.

Glass crashed somewhere in the other room. Had he fallen? She rushed inside toward the sound. Please let him be okay. Him falling—even though he was a healthy, agile man for his age—could be disastrous.

She reached the doorway to the living room and stared at the empty room. No one was there. But cold, snowy air was blowing in from the window, making the old-fashioned sheer curtains dance. She hurried over to find the window broken. A movement at the corner of the yard startled her. Someone, certainly not her grandfather, leaped over the back fence. Footprints showed dark across the snow-covered yard.

“Hey,” she yelled, wasting her breath as it fogged in the cold air.

She shivered as much from the cold as the realization that someone had broken into—and apparently out of—Grandpa’s house. Was he okay? Was he here? She ran through the few rooms on the lower level, finding nothing. She hurried up the stairs, checking rooms until she finally reached her grandparents’ bedroom.

It was as deserted as the rest of the house. And cold. The bed looked like it hadn’t been slept in for ages. She frowned, gazing at the old-fashioned dresser and vanity that her grandmother had loved and polished each week with lemon oil. Grandma had been gone over a year now, but that faded sweet/tart scent still tinged the air.

Even though a light coat of dust covered everything and danced in the light that filtered in.

Grandpa wasn’t here. No one was.

But someone, who wasn’t her grandfather, had been.

Hastily, she pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed 9-1-1. Slowly, checking around each corner as she moved, she went back downstairs and waited just inside the kitchen door.

Near the knife rack.

The dispatcher answered, and Lisa gave the address, telling the woman her suspicions that someone had broken in.

“Are they still there?”

“No, but I’m not sure there isn’t someone else hiding somewhere.”

While she waited on the phone, her mind raced. Where was her grandfather? When her mother had mentioned Grandpa had disappeared again, most likely into the hills, she hadn’t seen the house, hadn’t felt the emptiness that permeated it.

Why hadn’t he let anyone know where he was going? Maybe he had, just not them. She’d have to check with his friends.

What if something had happened to him?

* * *

THE THIRSTY EAGLE SALOON sat smack on Main Street. It faced the ski slopes that dominated the view from all over town. Trey stared out the big plate-glass window at those slopes, wishing he was on his new pair of K2s instead of sitting here counting change.

Last night’s snow had put down a good foot of powder, and even from here, the white plumes flying up behind the skiers were clearly visible.

“Hey, boss,” Gabe called from the kitchen. “We’re low on tequila. And there’s only two cases of burgers left in here.” Gabe’s voice sounded muffled so Trey figured he was inside the walk-in freezer.

Trey sighed. Trey couldn’t do much about restocking. He wasn’t the owner.

Hap Southers was. And while the old man loved the place, apparently being a mayor—or former mayor—and a bartender wasn’t a good mix, even in a wild mountain town like Telluride.

Hap relished showing off and one-upping his cronies, but he was cheap. Before anyone could order supplies, they had to call Hap and ask. Hap refused to give any of the staff a budget or any kind of idea what they should spend.

Trey hated having to ask for anything. He was used to being in control. He always had been on the ranch, and when he’d left Texas and his family’s ranch behind, he’d stopped asking anyone’s permission to do anything.

Until he’d started working here, that was. “I’ll ask Hap about the order after I get back from the bank.” He grabbed the bank bag with the deposit he’d already counted and headed out the door. It was a nice day, and the walk to the bank would be good for him.

Even though the sun was still out, the mountain’s shadow had fallen over the town. Sitting in a box canyon, some part of Telluride was always in the shade.

The breeze cut through the afternoon, and he shivered. Lord, this place was so different from Texas.

His phone rang just then, and he pulled it out of his pocket to look at the screen. The ranch. Just the thought of the home he’d left behind seemed to summon his past. He pocketed the phone again, not even bothering to silence the ringer.

He’d only answered a call from the ranch once, the first week he’d been here. He’d foolishly thought there was some emergency. Someone was dying, maybe. But it had just been one of the hands asking for Trey’s input—and for help getting his father, Pal Junior, to change his mind about something. Trey had hung up.

He’d left that all behind.

He needed a life without his grandfather’s legacy or anyone’s influence. If he was going to build a new life, he had to completely leave the old behind.

And the old had to let him go. They, apparently, found that harder to do than he did, since they kept calling. He’d eventually check his voice mail, but not today, and not any time soon.

“Afternoon, Trey,” Linda, the head teller, called from her station as he entered the bank. She didn’t bother to stop counting the stack of twenties in front of her. The woman could, and probably did, count money in her sleep.

“Hey, Linda.” Trey moved to her counter to make the deposit. “How come you aren’t up on the slopes? Looks like a good day for some runs.” Trey and Linda had met on a black diamond ski run his first week here, and had shared several conversations about their love of skiing when he came into the bank.

She was pretty, and he’d even thought for a minute and a half about asking her out. She’d be a perfect fit for him—at least the him he wanted to be. But something didn’t feel right.

In the past, he’d have asked her out without even thinking twice. He liked women but—He stood there watching her...and had no desire to make any move. Dating was a commitment he wasn’t ready to take on yet.

“Yeah.” The rubber band she put around the stack of cash snapped into place, breaking into his thoughts. Thankfully, Linda was oblivious to what he was thinking as she reached for his deposit. “But just like you, I need to eat and keep a roof over my head.”

“I hear you.” He nodded and waited until she’d finished putting all the assorted papers and pieces away before handing him back the bag.

Stepping outside, he gave one last longing glance at the slopes and the skiers flying down the hill. He wished he were there, losing himself in the cold, the sun and adrenaline. But he headed back to the bar.

“Hap’s on the phone,” Gabe called as soon as Trey stepped inside.

He hadn’t even removed his coat, but he took the phone. “Afternoon, Hap.”

“Afternoon, Trey. Gabe said you were ordering supplies?” Trey looked over at his cook, who’d obviously heard and simply shrugged.

“Just got back from making the deposit.” He knew what was really important to the old man. “I planned to give you a call, but yeah, we need supplies.” Gabe deserted him, going into the kitchen.

“Let me see—”

“Big weekend’s coming. New powder made the news. We’ll be swamped.” He knew how to get Hap’s attention. “Could be a profitable week.”

“Hmmm. You think so? I’m not sure.”

Sometimes Hap was too much like Pal Senior—too damned cheap. Trey nearly cursed aloud. No one was as bad as the old reprobate. “Look, I can run this place on a shoestring, but that’s going to make your deposits smaller. Today’s was good. I think you’ll be pleased.”

“I’ll log on.” Through the phone, Trey heard the sound of Hap tapping computer keys. Hap kept tabs on him by checking the bank account online each day. “Well, what do you know. That’s lookin’ good.” A few more keystrokes.

“So, can I get some more supplies in?” Trey hoped Hap didn’t hear the way he gritted his teeth.

“Yeah. Make an order. But don’t make it too big. Just enough to get us through the weekend. Don’t want anything left over to just sit there and go bad or anything.”

Trey refrained from telling the old man that alcohol didn’t go bad sitting for a few days and most everything else would be frozen. Now that he had the go-ahead, he ended the call quickly so he could make the orders before the suppliers closed for the day.

“We getting the stuff?” Gabe ventured back out of the kitchen.

“Thanks for the support there. Yeah.” Trey logged on to the computer. “Ordering now.”

Gabe leaned against the doorframe. “You think he’s greedy or cheap?”

“Who?”

“Hap.”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” If Trey could answer that, maybe he wouldn’t be here now. Hap reminded him too much of people and places he wanted to forget. He silently prayed, as his fingers flew over the keys.

Don’t ever let me be like that.

CHAPTER THREE

THE SOUND OF TIRES on the street outside had Lisa staring anxiously out the screen door. She’d stayed in Grandpa’s kitchen, waiting, listening, prepared to run like hell if anyone else came out of the shadows or any of the rooms.

The dispatcher had recognized her grandfather’s address and put her straight through to the sheriff himself, Sam Coleman.

Sam and her grandfather had been best friends for years. He’d offered to stay on the line with her until he got there, which thankfully only took five minutes. He’d tried to calm her by discussing the weather and odd bits of gossip.

When Sam’s tall, burly figure rose from the squad car, strong and reassuring, she let out the breath she’d been holding and hung up.

“Whatcha doing in here?” he growled when he saw her sitting at the kitchen table like it was dinnertime.

“Waiting for you.”

“You don’t think someone else is here?”

“Nope. They’d have come out by now,” she rationalized, ignoring the glare he sent her.

“Well, stay put.” He pointed at the chair, then reconsidered. “Better yet, go sit in my squad car.” He re-aimed his index finger at the door. “Lock the car until I come back out.”

“I’m fine right here.” The person who’d run had been in Grandpa’s house for a reason, and she wanted to know who they were and what they’d been after.

Sam just turned on his booted heel and started looking through the house. She could keep track of him by the sound of his footsteps and the echo of doors and cupboards opening and closing. He was very methodical in his search.

“You’re right. I don’t see anyone,” he finally said as he returned to the kitchen. “But the bedroom window upstairs is open. You open it?”

She shook her head. “Which room?”

“The master. That one’s pert near the full two stories up.” He frowned. “Still one treacherous jump.” He stared at the stairs as if trying to figure something out. “I closed it, but I’d like one of the guys to come out and dust for fingerprints.”

That explained why it had been so cold in the room. “They didn’t go out that window.”

He stared at her then, his thick brows gathered in a frown.

“The living room window. I heard glass break and when I looked out, I saw someone in the yard.” How had he missed the broken window?

Glowering, Sam turned on his heel again and spent several minutes in the living room.

He walked slowly back into the kitchen, his gaze trained on the floor. Finally, he stopped and looked up. “Did they run back in here?”

“I—” Why did he think that? Then she followed his gaze.

She gasped. “Is that—?” There was a faint trail of something dark across the tile that she hadn’t noticed. “Oh, God. Sam—” Her voice broke, and her mind filled with every horrible possibility. “Is that blood?”

“I ain’t sure.” He shook his head. “I’ll have a deputy come check it out.” He walked over and grasped her elbow. “Let’s head outside.”

Gently, Lisa pulled away, trying to stand her ground, even though she was trembling hard. “Don’t lie to me, Sam. Please.” She tried to tamp down the worry that threatened to choke her. “If that’s Grandpa’s blood, do—” She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.

“Now, don’t go jumping to conclusions.” His words didn’t match the worry in his eyes. He cleared his throat and tried again, still unsuccessfully, to guide her to the door.

“Do you notice anything missing?” he asked, clearly trying to distract her.

And, even though she knew what he was doing, it worked. Maybe there was a clue in the house. Lisa looked around but had no idea what to even search for. “I—I don’t think so.” She shrugged. Suddenly, the weight of the last few hours settled hard on her shoulders.

The morning had started out so bright. Marco’s pronouncement about the business closing seemed ages ago. Lunch with Trudy... The drive up here... Now this. It was almost too much.

Should she have called Sam earlier, when Grandpa hadn’t answered her mother’s calls? Should she have come to visit sooner? More often?

She’d been so busy the past few months with the job, she hadn’t been up here much, nor had she spoken to her grandfather in a while.

Guilt raced through her. Would it have made a difference if she had?

Would he still be here? Would something have happened to her, too? Her stomach churned.

“Sam, when did you see him last?”

“See who? Win? Oh, now, don’t go fretting, Lisa. He had drinks with Hap and me yesterday over at The Thirsty Eagle.” Their favorite bar.

Lisa shot to her feet and paced. “But Sam, look at this place.” She waved her arms around. “He seems to have been gone longer than one day.” She ran her finger over the counter where a layer of dust dulled the dark tone of the marble.

“Lisa.” The older man stepped closer. “Your grandma’s been gone almost two years,” he unnecessarily reminded her. “Your grandpa would never be accused of being a housekeeper.”

“But—” She looked around, more closely this time. She stalked over to the refrigerator and yanked it open. The light came on, washing over the room, reassuringly normal. A gallon of milk, a carton of orange juice and several other normal items sat inside.

She didn’t want to, but she opened the milk and sniffed. Not spoiled. Thank goodness.

Maybe he hadn’t been gone long. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions. Still... “Then where is he? It’s getting late.” Another glance at the clock told her it wasn’t that late by her city standards. But here? For her grandfather? It was very late.

“Don’t go borrowin’ trouble.” Sam put his big, rough hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure there’s a simple explanation. We’ll find him,” he reassured her, and she wasn’t sure if he believed what he was saying or not.

Sam pulled out his phone and was soon talking to someone about securing the house. “Bring a sheet of plywood.” He paused and listened. “There’s a couple of sheets out in the shed. Got a broken window here, and Win ain’t around to fix it. Yeah.”

Once he’d hung up, he turned back to her again. “Okay, let’s get you settled at the hotel.”

“What?”

“It’s too late for you to drive to Denver tonight. And you’re not staying here by yourself.”

“Sam, I’m a grown adult. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“I know that.” He put his hands on his hips. “Someone broke in here for a reason. If they didn’t get what they want, they could come back. Nope, you’re not staying here.” He shook his head, and she saw his familiar stubbornness flash in his eyes.

Sam wasn’t going to let her stay in the house. Despite the fact that she didn’t want to stay here by herself, she wasn’t admitting that to him. She let her stubborn glare speak for her.

“No.” The big man strode toward the screen door and held it open for her. “Not only no, but hell, no.” He shook his head.

“I can’t go to a hotel.” She hadn’t had time to tell him she couldn’t afford it. She had lost her job today. She glanced at her watch. Yeah, still today. She followed him outside and watched as he closed and locked the door.

“Win would kill me if anything happened to you.” He finally stopped next to her car and crossed his arms over his chest. Stubborn never looked so human. Or immovable. “Evelyn down at The Guest House always has a room for dignitaries. We’ll set you up there.”

“I can’t—”

“Gonna make me tell Win on you?” His left eyebrow lifted, and she recognized that he’d stay here all night long and argue. And she wouldn’t win.

“Oh, fine.” She huffed to her car. “But only for tonight.”

“We’ll see.” He waited while she climbed in and closed the door behind her. Walking back to his car, he waited until she started her own vehicle and headed toward the small downtown hotel. He followed close behind.

The Guest House was one of the oldest buildings in Telluride. The two-story building, with an old-fashioned false front and big glass windows all across the street side, was a landmark. Built during the original mining boom back in the 1890s with new mining money, it’d been meant to impress.

And it still did.

She’d always wanted to stay here. Why did she feel like she was taking advantage of a bad situation?

As if she had any choice? Sam sat in his car outside and waited until she walked through the big glass door. Glancing at him and waving, she hoped he investigated crimes in this town with as much tenacity as he used keeping track of her.

She looked around the vast lobby in awe. It had seemed silly to stay here when her grandparents had always had a perfectly good guest room. That guest room was still there—just not an option right now. She shivered at Sam’s earlier warning that the intruder could return and she continued farther inside.

She had to force her feet to keep moving. It was so beautiful. Two huge antique crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings. Light fell in prisms over the old-fashioned wingback chairs and Chippendale couches, and in pools on the lush gray carpet.

Brass handrails edged the steps she descended into the sunken lobby area. But what caught her eye was the staircase. It curved upward, over the heads of diners in the small bar, and continued to create the ceiling over the check-in desk. Gleaming brass rails followed the same curve and nestled in the crease of the carpet on each stair.

It was beautiful. Too pretty to actually use, and too expensive for her to afford, she was sure.

Straight ahead, a tall counter made of dark wood dominated most of the far wall. Two staff members in formal tuxedo-type attire waited for her to step up.

“Oh, hello.” An older woman came out from behind the desk. Her neatly-cropped silver hair bounced, and her eyes smiled behind the dark cat-eye glasses she wore. “You must be Lisa. I’m so sorry to hear about the break-in.”

Sam wasn’t much for keeping secrets.

“Sam told me about Win. I’m sure he’s just off in the hills.” She put an arm around Lisa’s shoulders, comforting and warm. Lisa almost let herself believe the woman’s reassurances.

And she might have if she hadn’t seen that trail of dark blood on her grandfather’s kitchen floor.

“Th-thank you,” she whispered and let the woman lead her to the check-in desk.

Half an hour later, Lisa was settled in a room on the second floor. While the furniture was new and almost modern, the building made it all look antique. Where there had been renovations, the old brick wall was left exposed.

The windows were old, or seemed to be, and thick drapes were pulled back so she could look out. She did that as she sat down on the edge of the bed. What was she supposed to do now?

After a few minutes, she grabbed her phone and checked, just in case she’d missed a call from Grandpa.

Nothing.

No one. Not Trudy. Not Marco. Not Sam. Not her mom, nor her grandfather. She suddenly felt very lost. And alone.

Standing, Lisa made herself break out of her pity party. This was ridiculous. One bad day—okay, a really bad day—did not define her life.

She walked over to the windows, intent on pulling the shades. She might as well try to get some sleep. But as she reached up, she saw a movement in the alley below.

Leaning close enough to feel the cold coming from the glass, she watched a man go to the Dumpster. Curiosity made her lean closer, her forehead bumping the window pane.

Was that Sam? What was he looking for?

He was using a piece of wood to rummage around in the Dumpster. From here, Lisa couldn’t even make out his face, but saw him shake his head. Finally, he stood back and put his hands on his hips, much like he had at Grandpa’s house just a short while ago.

The star on his chest glinted as he moved in and out of the moonlight.

Did Sam’s odd search have anything to do with the break-in at Grandpa’s house? She leaned closer.

After several long minutes, she watched as he threw his hands up in defeat, an all-too-familiar gesture. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. What was he saying?

Slowly, carefully, because she really wasn’t eavesdropping—really—she turned the lock to open the window. Thank God this wasn’t like the hotels in Denver where the windows were sealed.

A cold breeze slipped in between the wood frame as she lifted the window. She heard the echo of Sam’s deep, time-worn voice. “Nah, it ain’t here.” Silence. “I know we told him to throw it away. Doesn’t mean he did,” Sam snapped at the person on the other end of the phone before there was more silence.

What had someone supposedly thrown away? Something relating to Grandpa? Or something else? Surely the break-in wasn’t Sam’s only case.

“I am not climbing into the damned Dumpster for a piece of paper.” Sam turned to leave. “You shoulda made a copy.” The sound of his bootheels was loud, like they had been when he’d been walking around the house, only this time, it was against the stone of the alley instead of ancient wood floors. “Or taken a picture with your phone. You do know how to use it, right?”

The other person must have said something loud as Sam pulled the phone away from his ear. “I heard you. So did half the city. Just calm down, Hap. Don’t worry. We’ll find it. I’ll check with him tomorrow. Maybe by then Win’ll show up and you can ask him!” Finally, Sam let the lid of the container slam down and slowly walked away. The echo of his footsteps faded as he headed down the alley and disappeared into the night.

It did have something to do with her grandfather! Not only had Sam mentioned him by name, but Hap was the third leg of their troublesome trio. Those three always knew each other’s business. Always.

Lisa resisted the urge to run after him but ultimately gave up. What the heck? She pulled open the door, making sure she had her key card before stepping out into the deserted hall and pulling the door closed.

She took the stairs, nearly falling on her face when she hit the bottom too quickly. She slammed the crash bar on the door, the sound exceedingly loud in the night. Immediately, the cold bit into her skin, and she realized she’d left her coat in her room. Stupid.

Okay, this had better be a quick trip. She hustled across the alley and peered over the edge of the Dumpster. The thing was nearly half full. And the aroma... She stepped back and covered her nose. Eww...

Dishes clattered nearby, and she turned to look through a battered screen door in the old brick wall. A kitchen was on the other side, the white fluorescent light barely reaching through the shadows. Ah, food scraps—to the extreme—made that odor.

More prepared this time, she turned back to the Dumpster. Sam had mentioned a paper. She grimaced. Paper wasn’t going to survive that mess. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to look any closer.

* * *

“GREAT. JUST GREAT,” Trey grumbled as he slammed the receiver down. Nothing like an old-fashioned landline to vent his frustration with. The one waitress scheduled for tonight had just called in sick. She’d probably gone to the same party his cook Gabe had gone to last night. At least he’d toughed out the hangover and shown up.

Trey headed to the kitchen to strategize with the cook. “Hey, Gabe,” he called as he stepped through the swinging metal door. He walked around the corner, into the big industrial kitchen. The long metal tables were bare, and there wasn’t any heat coming from the gigantic stove. The vent fan was silent. “Hey, Gabe,” he called again. Still no answer. Where had the idiot gone?

Trey could make the burgers, but dang it, he couldn’t run the bar, the kitchen and wait tables by himself all night. He cursed and flipped on the grill.

Heading to the big walk-in freezer, he yanked the door open and tossed a box of burgers up onto one of the tables. He pulled everything else to make the burgers as well as a packet of the frozen fries that landed on the same table with a thunk. Maybe if he served enough drinks, they wouldn’t care how long it took to get their food. Happy Hour, it was.

A sound came from the back doorway. “Gabe, I hope you’re out there.” He stalked to the door and shoved the worn screen open. “I need your—”

A young woman was leaning into the Dumpster. Long, shapely legs led up to a nicely curved waist. The rest of her was in the shadow between the lid and the metal wall.

“Hey!” Trey yelled, not sure why he was so surprised. Homeless people came here to Telluride, too. They drifted through the Dumpsters, hoping to find something to eat or sell. “Get out of there. If you get hurt, it’s not our fault.” He hustled over toward her.

She yelped as the plastic lid came down and smacked her in the head. She shoved it aside and stood up. A pair of angry green eyes glared at him. “You scared me,” she accused him.

“Better than shooting you.”

She frowned and tilted her head just a bit sideways. “You’d shoot me for getting into your Dumpster?”

He almost laughed. “No. But I’m nicer than most people.”

She turned back to what she’d been doing. Leaning over again, she stood on her tiptoes. He reached out and grabbed the belt loop at her waist and pulled her back. “I said—”

“You said you weren’t going to shoot me.”

“I’m rethinking that.” He glared down at her. “What are you doing?”

“I’m—uhm—looking for my—uh, bracelet.”

“For what?”

She didn’t meet his eyes, which told him she was lying. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for her to answer.

She stood there, her hands on her hips, glaring at him. She actually tapped her foot. “You know—a piece of jewelry that fits around your wrist?”

“Not funny.” He leaned toward her, hoping his glare intensified enough to make her take him seriously. “Ever hear of asking if someone found it? Maybe it’s inside and not in some smelly Dumpster.”

The lie flashed in her eyes. “Oh, did you find it?” she asked, gripping his arms. She was laying it on a little thick.

“Well, no, but—” Of course he hadn’t.

“Why did you get my hopes up?”

“I just suggested it.” What was wrong with this woman? “But you didn’t even ask.”

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the Dumpster. “Don’t let me bother you.” She waved toward the still-open door. “I’m sure you have customers.”

He did, but leaving her out here to get hurt wasn’t a good idea.

Maybe his cynicism was clouding his judgment. Maybe she was telling the truth. Why was a bracelet so important to her? Was it valuable? Sentimental value? “Surely you can get another bracelet.”

She spun on her heel, glaring at him. “Spoken like a person who has money to burn.”

“I don’t have money to burn. But it’s just a bracelet.”

“Just a bracelet?” Her voice went up a good octave. “It’s the only one I have, and the only one I’m likely to have. I need it.”

“Why?”

She hesitated. “Because—” She swallowed and didn’t meet his gaze again. “I planned to, uh, pawn it. Yeah, that’s it.”

He looked a little closer and even in the shadows of the alley he saw the stress in her eyes. “You an addict?”

She glared at him.

“You drink?” He thought about the waitress who’d just called in “sick.” Which reminded him that he needed to get back in and start making orders.

“No,” she denied. “Though a glass of wine now and then with dinner is awfully nice.” There was a wistful note in her voice.

“If it’s money you want, maybe I can help you out. You know how to waitress? Cook?”

He’d startled her, he could tell. “What do you mean?”

“I run this bar. My cook is missing, and my waitress just called in sick. I can’t do it all by myself. You want a job? I’ll give you a shot.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Sometimes, I seriously think so.” He sighed. “I need the help. You in?” He waited while she thought about it. He wanted to push her, wanted to just grab her and drag her into the kitchen. But he just waited.

“I can cook. How hard is it to be a waitress?”

He reached out and curled his hand around her wrist. “You’re hired. Let’s go.”

CHAPTER FOUR

WHO WAS THIS GUY? Lisa looked at him first, and then around the bar with interest. She hadn’t been here in a while. It was old, with pictures of skiers up on the walls, along with beer signs and advertisements for local events. Wood covered the walls, the floor, and a long, polished hunk of it made up the bar top. Only a couple of tables were occupied, and none of the people seemed interested in anything but their own conversations.

“So, if I’m working for you, who are you?” she asked, coming to a stop at the outer side of the bar.

“Guess it would be fair to introduce myself.” He smiled and extended a hand to her. “Trey Haymaker, bartender and manager here.” She took his hand. She noticed the calluses on his palms and the firm grip of his hand.

He was tall, though part of that was the raised floor behind the bar. Like everyone else here, where ski slopes dominated the town, his face had a windburned hue to it, and his dark blond hair was tousled from that same wind. When he smiled, it was warm enough, but his eyes didn’t hold that same warmth. Welcome, but distant.

“I should let you know,” she continued. “I’ve never waitressed before. Not really. I’ve worked events, but nothing like this.” She needed to be honest with him, and herself.

“I didn’t think you had.” One of the customers at a table across the room waved at him and he moved to talk to them. Nodding, he returned and started fixing drinks. “All I need is someone to do just what I did. Go to the table, ask what they want and give me the information. I’ll fill the order and you can carry it back out. Simple.”

She could do that. “Do you want me to take payment?”

He nodded. “If you can.”

“I can.” She’d done plenty of that in both her college days working retail and definitely working with invoices for Marco.

“Good.” He nodded. “Here’s an apron. Sink’s in back to wash up. Then you can deliver that to the table on the left.” He slid a round tray with three drinks made and ready to taste toward her.

“Okay, here goes nothing.” She laughed, and smiled at him. He didn’t smile back, but he didn’t frown, either. That was a good sign, right?

For the next two hours, they developed a rhythm. Orders, making drinks or food, serving. She couldn’t say she loved it, but the tips were nice, and it was a job. A temporary job, she reminded herself, that would give her money while she waited for her grandfather to return, or she found something else.

“I’ll show you how to close down tomorrow night, if you’re planning to come back,” Trey said once the last customer had gone and the door was locked.

“Why wouldn’t I come back?”

He laughed, and it was the first time she’d heard him do that. “Not everyone does.” He walked behind the bar and hit a button on the cash register. He started counting the money. “You got a place to stay?” He asked it nonchalantly, not even looking up from his task.

“Uh, yeah.” That seemed like a strange question. “Why would you think I didn’t?”

This time he did look up. “Well, I did meet you rummaging around in the trash.”

True. She frowned. “No. I’ve got a place to stay.” Two to be specific. She almost told him that, then remembered her earlier decision to be more like Trudy. To be less open and trusting.

He wasn’t local, since she didn’t know him, and there was a hint of a Southern accent in his voice. “You’re not originally from here, are you?” she asked before she thought twice about it.

He glanced up again. “Nope, but I’m here now.”

That wasn’t much of an answer, and it didn’t take long to realize she wasn’t going to get much more. He was clearly a private man. Every other time she’d tried to chat with him tonight, he’d answered just as succinctly. No elaboration, no explanation and no effort to get to know her.

The red flags that filled her mind were worth paying attention to. She’d had enough experience already with people who weren’t open and honest with her. She’d do well to remember that.

The next morning when her phone alarm went off, Lisa smacked it to silence the noise. She’d forgotten to turn it off last night. For half an instant, she panicked that she’d be late for work if she didn’t get moving.

Then reality hit her. She didn’t have a job to get to. Wait... Had she dreamt last night? The Dumpster? The way Trey Haymaker, her new boss, had grabbed her arm, and before she could think straight, hired her to waitress? Until two in the morning?

She’d been too stunned to say no, and because of that, she did indeed have a new job.

Groaning, she rolled over. Might as well sleep in since she now apparently worked the night shift. She closed her eyes, putting the pillow over her head to block out the morning light. But returning to sleep was out of the question. She’d been getting up early too long to break the habit in a day.

Slowly, she sat up and shoved her hair out of her eyes. But when she put her feet on the floor, she yanked them back. Pins and needles stabbed her abused toes. When was the last time she’d done that much standing and walking? “Never,” she mumbled and hobbled into the bathroom.

Thankfully, the shower came on hot nearly immediately, and she stepped under the spray with a sigh. Warm. Comforting. Leaning back against the tiles, she let the water wash over her.

What had happened to her life? Two days ago, she’d had a job she loved—a career job, not a waitress job—her grandfather was safely situated in his little house and life was good.

Now none of that was true. Closing her eyes, she tried to force herself to relax. This might be her last chance to do that.

Had she really told Trey she’d be working again today for a whole shift? The man did intrigue her. Tall. Athletic. Cowboy boots and jeans were never a bad thing. His image was fresh and clear in her mind—his voice, deep and warm, echoed in her thoughts.

Stop that! She grabbed the soap and lathered up. Now was the time to focus—and not on some guy, no matter how good-looking.

Still, if she was working at the bar, when was she going to job hunt? Heck, when was she going to find her grandfather? Or some decent shoes? She needed some support for her poor arches if she was going to be a waitress.

She was not going to be a waitress forever, she reminded herself. It was just...temporary. She was an event planner with a life in Denver, not here.

Turning off the water, Lisa grabbed one of the big, fluffy towels. Another reality. She couldn’t afford to stay here, not on a waitress’s salary, though she had gotten some really nice tips last night.

She’d have to stay at her grandfather’s place until she found him. But what if the intruder came back? What if she was asleep when they did? She couldn’t stay awake all the time. She shivered and stepped out of the shower.

Oh, what was the purpose in fretting? She quickly dressed and headed down to breakfast—it was free, after all. Images of an old lady she’d seen at a buffet once, sliding food into her purse, came to mind.

Was that why grandmas always had huge purses? To slip food into, just in case? No, no, she reprimanded herself in her best mental impression of her grandmother.

Free breakfast here, and Trey had told her she could get lunch if she came in early. She’d be fine. Her stomach growled in a loud taunt.

She’d been destitute for all of twenty-four hours, and she was already turning into a pathetic shadow of herself. Shaking her head, she went downstairs in search of food and her sanity.

Evelyn was up bright and early. The older woman bustled behind the serving table, directing a couple of young girls to refill the serving trays. Lisa’s heart hitched. That was her job. That was what she was supposed to be doing. Damn Robert and his greed.

“Good morning, dear,” Evelyn greeted her. “Did you sleep well?”

“Uh, yes, I did.” Once she got to bed. Three in the morning had been way past her normal bedtime. She headed for the coffee first.

“So glad to hear it.” Evelyn moved on down the line, stirring the food and directing the girls. “Better help yourself quick. We’ll be done soon.” She smiled at Lisa before disappearing into the kitchen with a nearly empty tray of potatoes.

The food did smell delicious, and Lisa heaped a plate full. Her panic returned to taunt her, but she pushed it away. She would find a solution to her current situation.

Evelyn came in with a set of to-go containers. She set them on the end of the long buffet table.

“Who are those for?” Lisa asked, not seeing anyone else in the room.

“We package up all the leftovers and take them to the church. They offer them to some of the parishioners who need help.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” Lisa’s voice faded. Was she destined to be one of those people? What if she couldn’t find a job? A real job, she amended. What if she was stuck here?

Now, cut that out!

She couldn’t be stuck here, she reminded herself. She had an apartment—and rent due in two weeks.

She took a deep breath with the next bite of eggs. She was being ridiculous.

“Morning, Ev. Lisa.”

Sam? What was he doing here? “Did you hear from Grandpa?” Her own situation and appetite forgotten, Lisa looked up at the big man.

Sadly, Sam shook his head and slid into the seat across from her. “No, hon. I came over to check if you had. Did he call you?” His eyes seemed sad, almost haunted, like he’d lost his best friend. Which in reality, he had. Her stomach dropped, and she set her fork down.

Then she remembered that last night she’d turned her ringer off and had shoved her phone into her pocket as soon as she’d waited on the first table. She’d been too tired to check it last night.

Would she have even heard it ring in the noisy bar? She struggled to pull the phone out of her purse then thumbed on the screen. Her heart sank. No calls.

“No.” She stared at the screen, hoping maybe it would ring now just because she wished it. It stayed silent. “Nothing.”

“Did you find anything else out last night?” She’d seen him by the Dumpster and knew he hadn’t found what he’d been looking for there.

“Nothing new about Win,” he answered.

Did the big man actually look sadder? What wasn’t Sam telling her?

“Unfortunately, his isn’t the only case I’ve got right now.” He looked at her then, the sadness of a friend gone from his eyes and the distance of a working lawman in its place.

* * *

TREY WATCHED HIS brand-new waitress move around the crowded room. She wasn’t homeless; she’d given him a very brief explanation on her situation. If she was staying at The Guest House—the nicest place in town—she was far from homeless.

Tonight, Lisa was wearing black cowboy boots with a pale peach dress that skimmed the tops of her pretty knees. He watched the skirt sway and swirl. Watched her smile shine down on the customers at each booth and table.

Who had taught her how to dress for a mountain winter? With the snow swirling outside, she should be freezing, but she’d been running back and forth, filling orders for over two hours. A sheen of sweat glistened on her brow, and earlier she’d pulled her blond hair back into a loose braid that was now little more than an idea.

It was still pretty, though he reminded himself he shouldn’t notice. He was her boss, for God’s sake. Well, technically, he was a supervisor and Hap was the boss. Except all Hap ever did here was drink with his buddies.

She was graceful despite the boots that should have made her just the opposite. At least, she couldn’t sneak up on him.

“Hey, give me two whiskeys, neat, and a couple of daiquiris for the lightweights with them.” She leaned against the counter and watched as he pulled the drinks together.

“You should take a break.” Trey shoved ice into the blender wishing she—and her amazing scent—would move away. Then he wouldn’t have to keep tearing his gaze away from her. He could actually focus on his job.

“I’m good.” She grinned at him as she refilled the napkins and straws on her serving tray. “I don’t think I’d know how to take a break.”

“I’m not against you giving it a shot.”

When her laughter overshadowed the noise of the bar, Trey realized he was in serious trouble. Warm and rich, the sound reached too deep inside him. He couldn’t help joining in.

Hastily, he shoved the drinks across the smooth bar. She set them on the plastic tray and wove her way back through the crowd. She’d definitely done something like this before. Maybe not waitressing exactly—she’d screwed up enough orders to tell him that—but something similar. She knew how to work a crowd.

He’d have to ask her... No, scratch that. He wasn’t asking her anything. She was temporary help. She’d eventually move on. For the millionth time, he wondered why she was here in Telluride.

She delivered the drinks with a smile and a heavy dose of sass. She was definitely in her element. People loved her, and she seemed to love them, too.

Later, after the crowd had finally thinned, the door opened again. The wind caught the wood-and-glass frame and slammed it against the wall. The man who came in just then grabbed it and fought the wind to get it closed. Finally, it latched, and the guy turned around, surveying the room as he straightened his expensive wool coat.

Lance Westgate. Trey frowned. The land developer who was building the retirement community that Hap was always talking about. He often came to the bar for an expensive drink and to flaunt his success.

He stood there in the doorway, surveying the room as if looking for someone—or pondering the peasants. There were empty tables now that the rush was over. “Take a seat anywhere,” Trey called across the room. “We’ll be right with you—”

Trey glanced around the room, his mouth open to speak to Lisa...but she was nowhere to be found.

* * *

LISA WAS FAIRLY CERTAIN that back in high school, Lance Westgate had been voted most likely to be found dead in a back alley. Polished, cleaned up and almost handsome now, he made her stop and stare. And duck down behind the bar until she could figure out what to do.

Facing him was not an option. Hadn’t he moved away? What was he doing back here looking all successful just when she...wasn’t?

It wasn’t like she was embarrassed or anything about losing her job—well maybe a little.

She didn’t know many people her age here anymore, having only visited her grandparents a few times a year, and meeting mainly their friends. But she knew Lance.

There’d been one summer when she’d met a lot of people her family hadn’t introduced her to. Sam had found her once and brought her home to her grandparents. Grandpa had made sure to warn her about Lance.

He runs with a rough crowd, girl, he’d said. Don’t get mixed up with people like him.

The warnings had only made Lance more intriguing. Until she’d gotten to know him. His friendly smile had faded quickly into a sneer, and one night in particular popped vividly to mind.

She’d been so young, naive and trusting. She’d stood her ground when he and his friends had pressured her to take a drink, though. She hadn’t given in to their pressure to smoke either, even though she’d been scared when they’d tried to intimidate her.

Heading back to Denver a few weeks later, she’d moved on, but never really forgotten. Had he changed? Grown up into a decent, responsible person? Matured?

Now he was on the other side of the bar drinking top-shelf whiskey. And she couldn’t face him. Not yet.

“Evenin’, Trey.” They knew each other? How well? Wasn’t that interesting? Lisa glanced up at the man beside her.

He leaned against the bar, his arms outstretched, shifting smoothly as he made the drink without seeming to even think about it.

From down here, he looked incredibly tall. He wasn’t short by any stretch of the imagination, probably five-ten. His jeans were worn, and fit like they were tailored for him...

Okay, Lisa, get your eyes off him. Think about something else.

She needed to move away. But if she crawled away, Lance would see her. What would he think she was doing down here if she popped up like a jack-in-the-box? She was losing her mind...what was left of it.

“Hey, haven’t run into the old guys here for a while,” Lance said.

Old guys? That got her attention.

“Didn’t know you paid them much mind.” Why was Trey’s voice thick with his Southern accent all of a sudden? She’d heard it faintly last night, and had asked him where he was from. He’d reluctantly answered but hadn’t elaborated.

“Not usually.” Lance shifted on the other side of the bar. Was he leaning forward? She tried to melt into the back of the bar, scooting as far as she could beneath the shelf. “Just seems odd without them.”

“It’s a bit late for the older crowd.” Trey moved away from her, picking up dirty glasses from the other end of the bar. Was he trying to distract Lance?

“Yeah. Guess I have to learn about the habits of the elderly. You heard about the development project I’m working on?”

Development project? She listened harder.

“A little. Hap mentioned it.”

She made a mental note to ask Trey about that project.

“Hap?” Could she actually hear a frown? “Oh, yeah. One of the old guys.” Lance laughed. She heard the glass move against the wood surface. “He’s the one with the walker?”

“Yeah. Used to be mayor? Owns this place?” Trey clattered the glasses in the sink. “He and his wife are looking at the retirement villas.”

“Good. Good. They are going to be mighty nice. I tell you, the architects and designers outdid themselves.” Another slide of glass on the wood.

“One more? It’s last call, so this is the end of the night.”

“Sure. I’m staying over at The Guest House since I’m only here checking on the project.”

The Guest House? Lisa clapped her hand over her mouth to silence her gasp. She’d have to keep an eye out for him.

Trey made another drink, though he stood farther down the bar to do it. He didn’t slide it down to Lance, which made the other man either have to lean to get it or scoot a stool over. Lisa breathed a slow, silent, sigh of relief.

“Maybe I could come by when those guys are here?”

“Why?” Trey frowned.

“Oh, they’re my target customers. Maybe I could talk about the development. Get their backing.”

“Maybe.” Trey focused on wiping down the bar again. “They don’t have a regular schedule. You know. Retirees.” Why was Trey saying that? She could set a clock by those three and their eating and drinking habits—except lately, since her grandfather had been totally out of his routine.

“Yeah. Here’s my number.” The sound of the card stock snapping on the wood seemed loud. “Maybe give me a call if you see them come in. I’ll come over and chat up my project.”

Trey picked up the card, nodding as he read it. She watched, mesmerized, as he slid the card into his back pocket.

“I’ll keep it in mind.” His voice startled her.

“You do that.” The silence grew, and Lisa heard the clink of ice. The sound of the highball glass’s thick base returning to the bar top was loud in the nearly empty bar. “Thanks for the drinks. How much do I owe you?”

Trey stepped over to where she sat, and she nearly squealed as he stopped right in front of her. What had she been thinking, ducking down right by the register? She curled in on herself, leaning her head on her raised knees.

“See you around, Lance.” Trey’s accent went even deeper. “I’ll let the boys know you were asking about ’em.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Lance’s voice was farther away now. “I’m sure our paths will cross.” The sound of footsteps against the wood floor receded, and Lisa heard the door open and then close.

Neither of them moved.

Slowly, Lisa opened her eyes and looked up. Trey’s denim jeans were still right there. She glanced up, noting his big belt buckle—maybe he was from Texas?—then moving her gaze even farther up to the muscular curve of his chest, to his chiseled jaw...and blue eyes staring down at her.

“Is he gone?” she whispered.

“Yeah.” Trey stepped back as if just realizing how close they were. “You can get up.” He extended a hand to help her stand.

She stared at it, hesitating. Then, swallowing hard, she put her hand in his. It was rough and warm and solid and big. Her mouth dry, she couldn’t speak for a minute. “Th...thank you.”

“Oh, no. It’s not that simple.” Trey leaned back against the ledge behind him, crossing his arms over that impressive chest. She’d taken stock of everything else, so why not appreciate the bulge of his biceps along the way?

Shaking her head, Lisa turned and reached back to untie her apron. Of course, the strings had become a knot.

“I want to hear what that was all about.” Trey stepped closer, and, after gently pushing her fingers away, worked at the knot himself. She closed her eyes again, trying to tamp down her awareness of him. What was wrong with her? He was her boss!

Finally, the knot loose, he flicked the apron off and pulled the right side. The fabric whispered over her before falling away.

She had to face him. Taking a deep breath, she got control of herself. “There’s nothing to tell. I was just surprised to see him, is all.”

Trey was back to leaning against the bar, her apron bunched up in one hand.

Feeling a bit foolish for her impulsive actions, she reached under the bar and grabbed her purse and coat. “I gotta go. See you—uh—tomorrow?”

Before he could say anything, she ran out through the kitchen, the screen door smacking loud in the night, the snow emphasizing the echo.

She glanced back over her shoulder and was surprised to see Trey standing in the doorway. The light from the kitchen outlined his body, casting him in shadow so she couldn’t read his expression. She wanted to turn around, see what he might say and do if she faced him, if she let her feelings show.

Instead, she focused on making her way across the alley and up to her room. Earlier today she’d planned to head over to her grandfather’s place and stay there. Sam didn’t think anyone was coming back, but it was too late to check out of the hotel now. “Just one more night. Then I’ll leave.”

Flashing her key card at the door, she hurried inside and up to her room. By the time she made it over to the window and parted the curtains, Trey was gone. Had he really been there? Had she imagined him?

Why did she feel disappointed that he hadn’t followed?

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