Chapter 10

TEN

SILAS

I'd traveled all over the world in my job, but I'd never taken a call in a place so breathtakingly beautiful. There was a rough-hewn log bench near the riverbank, so I sat down and typed up what I needed before shooting the email to my assistant. I ignored his Out-Of-Office auto-reply and dialed his number.

It took several tries, moving here and there and bending in awkward positions, before I got a call to go through.

"You at the airport?" Kenji asked when he picked up. His voice sounded scratchy, but I'd never known the man to take an actual sick day.

"Not exactly."

"What the fuck did you do?" he demanded.

"I just sent you an email with some contract language. I need you to forward it to the attorneys and get them to do a statement of intent or whatever it was we did when we bought that beach property?—"

"What's this about? Your divorce?"

"Yeah. I got Way to agree to an uncontested divorce, but we're filing in Delaware after all. This agreement is kind of a postnup. It says he won't require any financial disclosures, and no money will change hands. We'll need to file this before we file the divorce papers."

Kenji sighed. "I'm reading the document now. I think you need to reconsider some of this?—"

"Just forward it to the attorneys, please," I said, interrupting him before we potentially lost the call. I'd known Kenji was going to give me shit for changing the plan. While I knew it was his job to protect me, I was also very aware that what I was doing was royally stupid, and I didn't need him detailing all the reasons why. "I don't need your two cents. I just need the statement of intent so Way can sign it. That's all."

"But—"

"Kenji. That's all ."

He sucked in an audible breath. "So. You've got this all figured out, then? Great. Let the record show I was just trying to help." He took his usual know-it-all tone with me, the one that carried a heavy, unspoken "I told you so" along with a semi-condescending "we'll see about that."

In this case, though, I felt confident I knew what I was doing, so I looked forward to proving him wrong. "Noted. But I don't need your help on this one. Well, on the legal stuff anyway. But I do need your help on a few other things."

Kenji paused. He really was the world's most judgmental assistant. If he wasn't so damn good at his job and such a decent person, he'd be intolerable. "Like?"

"I'm, ah… going to be staying here in Wyoming for a bit."

"Define a bit."

I glanced back at the little cottage in the aspen trees. "A couple months. So I'm going to need satellite internet. Also, a decent car that can handle gravel and dirt roads. This rental is for shit. And I don't need to be so weird about money now that he's agreed to the postnup. So will you please send me some decent clothes, and be sure to include jeans and stuff for… I don't know… horse riding?"

Kenji was the king of dramatic pauses and sighs. This pause was particularly telling. "Hold, please, while I conference in the guys."

"Do not conference in the guys," I snapped. "I don't need the guys. I need you to do what I'm asking without making a big deal of it."

"You, Silas Concannon, want to stay married and play happy horsey husband—pardon, legal spouse —out there on the prairie , and you don't think that calls for an intervention? Are you still drunk? I swear, you used to be the easiest of the brotherhood. My golden child. Then you fly off to Vegas, and suddenly, you're worse than Landry , the bane of my existence?—"

"Way and I made a deal. If I stay and pretend we're in a relationship for a few weeks, he won't ask for anything in the divorce or demand to see a financial disclosure."

"You have a billion dollars. He has negative dollars. You could give him one million dollars, Silas, and you wouldn't even feel it. Meanwhile, his life would change for the better. Forever. He has no money to fight you in court, which means he'd be an idiot not to take a settlement offer in the absolute worst-case scenario. There's no need for you to enter into whatever the hell kind of thing this is." He took a breath. "Your time is worth more than this. Spending six weeks out there in the middle of nowhere will probably cost you more than it will save you. You get that, right? Why are you really doing this?"

I opened my mouth to argue with him, to repeat the old schtick about The Millionaire Next Door and how people who were stupid with money didn't stay rich for long, but something stopped me. Kenji had the rare ability to see through my bullshit.

He was right, too. Staying here would cost me money on lost opportunities, lost negotiations. Lost consulting projects.

But I didn't need the money. For some reason, what I needed right now was to help carry the burden of this particular cowboy. It didn't make sense, but it was the truth. Waylon Fletcher was so busy trying to be there for others he didn't have time to be there for himself. He was drowning, just like he'd said. But I could help save him.

"I gave him my word, Kenji. I'm not changing my mind."

Kenji sighed. "Don't pull a Sebastian and fall for some random guy. Do you have any idea what that did to my workload? Rowe had parking tickets for a car he never owned. He never had a passport before meeting Bash. The man hadn't filed a tax return in?—"

I grinned and dragged my toe across a weed standing taller than the grass around it, thinking of the oddball my best friend had recently hooked up with. "We all know Rowe is a hot mess. I get it. You're a saint. No one knows how much you suffer."

Kenji sighed again, only this time it had an extra melodramatic flair. "Truer words."

"It could be worse, though. Just think, it was almost Landry who went to that bar in Vegas instead of me."

I could practically hear his eyes bug out and his lungs recoil in horror. "He would have never . Yes, the manwhore would have slept with someone incredibly inappropriate. Multiple someones. And he most likely would have been arrested if Zane hadn't been tasked with babysitting him. But he wouldn't have married anyone. Even dead drunk and half-lobotomized, Landry wouldn't involve himself in that kind of commitment."

Suddenly, I heard Landry's voice in the background. "Hey! I heard that. I'm sitting right here, for fuck's sake!"

"I thought you were home sick," I said with a laugh. "And what's Landry doing at the office?"

There was a strange kind of pause. "I am home sick. Landry just stopped by to annoy me."

"Heard that, too," Landry whined. "I came by to bring you dinner."

Kenji's voice sounded muffled and annoyed. "You came by to bring me your leftover pizza. Which definitely seems like the perfect choice for someone with a sore throat, so great job."

Landry continued bitching in the background while Kenji turned his attention back to me. "I'm assuming I'll have to reschedule the Toronto trip and maybe ask the London team if you can dial in remote. Anything else you need?"

I thought of the work I'd committed to do in the next six weeks. "Yeah. You've got to find me some internet because I have maybe one square foot of cell coverage out here, and accessing it practically requires a blood ritual."

Before he ended the call, I said, "Wait. One more thing. Find me everything you can on AdventureSmash races and the company that puts them on."

I could hear him typing in the background. "Anything in particular? Is this a potential client?"

"Not a client. They're hosting a test race here in Majestic to see if they want to select it for a bigger race next year. I want to find out what's involved in their selection process. Helpful information would include a commercial impact report on other host towns, RFP process and requirements, bios on their stakeholders and executives, that kind of thing. I want to know about the health of the company, competitors, scandals, etc. Got it?"

"Of course. Give me a little time. And it would help if you'd convince this miscreant to remove his useless carcass from my brand-new chaise."

" Still hearing you," Landry muttered.

I ended the call and took one last look at the incredibly expansive view before heading back to the cottage.

Way was leaning back against his truck with his arms folded across his chest. When he saw me coming, he stood up and resettled his hat. He looked vaguely unsettled. "I didn't want to leave without telling you, but I have to go feed the horses and do some work in the barn. Help yourself to whatever, and when I get back, we can make the pizza Sheridan brought."

"Yeah, no problem." I tried to determine how he was feeling, but I didn't know him well enough for it. "You okay?"

"Sure, fine."

It was hard to see his expression clearly under the shadow of his hat brim, so I stepped closer and pulled it off his head. He narrowed his eyes. Way's usual golden-boy friendliness was nowhere to be found.

"I'm gonna need that."

I held it behind my back. "I can't see your face when you hide under this thing. You look upset."

He let out a humorless laugh. "Upset? Why would that be? Is it because I didn't get shit done at work today? Or because I still have hours of shoveling shit left? Or because everyone I know is now wondering if I've lost my damned mind? Or because I completely forgot to tell my baby sister that I up and got married, so she probably had to find out about it from half a dozen nosy nellies in town stopping by her pottery studio ‘just because' and happening to mention what her idiot brother did?"

"Sounds like you've been stewing about this for a little while."

"Ever since Sheridan left," he admitted.

I reached back out and settled the hat on his head. Then I stepped even closer and rested my hands on his shoulders, digging my thumbs into the compacted muscle on either side of his neck. "Take a breath."

Way's eyes angled away from mine, off toward the river, while he inhaled through his nose. "I can handle it," he muttered.

"Mmhm. That's not in doubt. The question is, should you have to?"

He glanced back at me. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I continued pressing out the tension in his neck and shoulders. "Everyone sure seems to have an opinion on your life."

He waited for me to continue.

I shrugged. "I guess I'm just wondering why you feel like you need to be everything for everybody all the time. Hell, Way, I've only known you for ten minutes, and I can see the demands this place and the town put on you. And you take it all on like it's some kind of?—"

He shrugged out of my grip and stepped to the side, reaching for the door handle on his old truck. "You know you don't need to act like my husband when it's just us, right? No pep talk needed."

I held my hands up and stepped back from him. "No, you're right. I'm sorry if I overstepped. It's none of my business. I just… it seems like you're trying to be everyone's hero around here, and I just wonder if maybe there's a better way, that's all."

The edge of his lip turned up, and the stress seemed to leave his expression for the most part. "You trying to corporate strategize me, city boy?"

I grinned. "Maybe."

He yanked open the metal door with a screech. "Well, cut that shit out. Save it for your consulting whatever-the-fuck."

As he slid into the truck, I contemplated offering to help him with his chores. But with my lack of experience on a ranch and his current mood, that seemed like it would only cause him more trouble in the long run.

I turned around and entered the tiny house. It was charming and homey despite its small size. I helped myself to a glass of water from the tap and looked around the interior.

I poked my head into his bedroom to see what I could learn about him. It took me half a second to realize he'd been right when he'd said it was more of a nook than a room. The queen-sized bed took up the entire space. Built-in bookshelves lined the interior wall, and a wide window took up most of the opposite one with a view of the river and mountains in the distance. It must have been an incredibly inspirational way to wake up in the morning.

The bookshelf held several paperbacks, ranging from classics to cowboy westerns to modern-day spy novels. It didn't really surprise me that he was a reader since I imagined the nights were long and dark out here, especially in winter, but I still enjoyed seeing evidence of his tastes. It helped feel like he wasn't quite such a stranger.

In the wall between the arched door to the bed nook and the arched door to the bathroom was an almost hidden door to a closet. It was filled on one side with shelves of neatly folded blue jeans and T-shirts, a cardboard boot box full of rolled-up boxer briefs, and another boot box of neatly paired socks. On the other side was a short hanging bar crammed with various sweatshirts and jackets, one suit, a couple of pairs of khaki pants, and some kind of work overalls like the kind mechanics wore. On the bare wood floor was a nicer pair of cowboy boots, a worn pair of running shoes, a pair of lace-up work boots like the kind you'd wear at a construction site, and a seemingly beloved pair of old Snoopy slippers.

I knew I was invading his privacy by poking into his things, but seeing how he lived and what he prioritized in this small space made me feel less like I was married to a complete stranger and more like I was temporarily connected to a real person.

When I glanced into the bathroom, I was surprised to see it was a much larger space than I expected. At first glance, it should have been about the same size as the bed nook. But in reality, the sink, toilet, and built-in linen closet took up that amount of space, but then the room was bumped out the back, doubling the space with a custom shower surrounded on all sides with clear glass.

What the shower lacked in privacy, it more than made up for in breathtaking views. In fact, this little house seemed to have killer views from every vantage point, positioned like it was in the wide curve of the river. Aspen trees lined the left-hand side of the shower view, presumably blocking the shower from anyone in the driveway where Way had parked his truck.

I moved back out to my rental car and pulled out my messenger bag and glanced at the small suitcase I'd taken to Vegas. The cottage didn't really have anywhere for me to store it, so I opened the suitcase and pulled out one clean change of clothes and my toiletry kit, leaving everything else in the car.

Once back in the house, I forced myself to get some work done, which involved taking my laptop and phone back out to the river's edge to get enough signal to download my email. Since it was a warm, late-spring day, I decided to work outside until I'd gotten the most urgent needs done.

Then, I finally allowed myself to return to the cottage, strip down, and see what it was like to take a shower in full view of the Rocky Mountains and Majestic River while the sun moved down toward the peaks in the distance, turning everything around us warm and gold.

I was about as far away from New York City as I could get, and for the first time in a very long time, I felt like maybe I was okay with that.