Quarter Miles Read online

  “Katherine Gates.” She pinned me with a stare normally reserved for her grandsons, son or husband. “I will see you in two weeks.”

  “Fine,” I muttered. “I’m going. I’ll call and check—”

  “You will do no such thing.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t call.”

  “But—”

  “Kat, take this vacation. It’s for your own good.”

  I fought a cringe, despising those words.

  Carol’s voice gentled and the pleading in her eyes made me hold my breath. “Let’s not pretend I don’t know the reason why you decided to take this whirlwind trip. Cash showed up at family dinner with a woman and . . . I get it. I think it’s a brilliant idea for you to get away.”

  I had too much stubborn pride to confess that I was in love with my best friend. But I’d been a fool to think Carol hadn’t noticed my feelings for her grandson. I’d loved Cash for years. Did all of the Greers know? Did they share pitiful glances behind my back?

  Our poor Kat, stuck in the friend zone for life.

  I swallowed a groan.

  “Go.” She put her hand on my arm. “When I told you to take some time, I meant it. You need to get away from here and decide if this is really the life you want.”

  “What are you saying?” Why wouldn’t I want this life?

  “We love you. You are a part of our family, whether you live and work here or not. But you need to get away from here. Breathe. Think. Let him go.”

  Ouch. Hadn’t I thought the exact same thing myself? So why did it hurt so much to hear from someone else?

  “I don’t want you spending your life waiting,” she said.

  The lump in my throat made it impossible to speak, so I nodded and stretched a tight smile across my face.

  “Go.” She kissed my cheek. “Think it over. I would hate to lose you, but I would hate for you to stay here and be unhappy even more.”

  I walked away from the desk, my head spinning. Why did it feel like I’d just been kicked out? Why did it feel like I’d just been given an ultimatum?

  Get over Cash or go somewhere he’s not.

  Carol had good intentions and I believed that she was looking out for me. She didn’t want me to suffer here while he moved on with his life. I didn’t want that for myself.

  But it was a stark reminder of the truth. I wasn’t a Greer. I was the guest in the family photo.

  Cash was the Greer, and she wasn’t losing her grandson.

  My truck was waiting outside the lodge, parked in front of a hitching post we used for space markers. I climbed inside and sucked in a deep breath, fighting the urge to cry.

  Part of me wanted to shove my head in the dirt and pretend like this wasn’t an issue. After all, I’d been practicing that move for years. I could go about my work, enjoy my simple life and drown the feelings I’d been harboring for a decade in work and denial.

  But that wasn’t working out so well for me, was it? I’d arrived at a crossroads and maybe after eight hundred and thirty-one miles, I’d know which path to take.

  I sucked in another deep breath, then started the truck and reversed out of my space. The gravel road that wound from the lodge to the highway was damp from last night’s rain shower, and the grass along the drive glistened. My tires didn’t kick up the normal cloud of dust as I drove, giving me a clear view of the imposing lodge through the rearview mirror.

  Its logs had been stained a dark, reddish brown. The towering peak of the eaves was nearly as tall as the hundred-year-old evergreens that clustered around the structure.

  That building was home. It was my sanctuary. And with every turn of my wheels, I felt it slipping through my grasp. As the lodge grew smaller and smaller in the distance, I was more and more certain I wouldn’t see it again.

  “You’re being silly,” I singsonged to myself, aiming my gaze straight ahead.

  This was only a vacation. I’d be back in two weeks or less, my feelings for Cash under control. Plus, I had a ten-thousand-dollar check in my pocket.

  The frugal girl who’d once begged for spare change demanded it go into savings. But the woman who rarely splurged on herself pictured spa treatments and monogrammed robes and a shopping spree.

  A wave of excitement rushed through my veins, swirling with my nerves in a heady mix of anticipation.

  Oregon, here I come.

  I’d be on my way as soon as I picked up the car.

  Eight hundred and thirty-one miles. And twenty-five cents in my pocket.

  Maybe Carol had been onto something. I had no schedule. Though I wasn’t going to spend three or four weeks on the road, maybe I needed to force myself to spend two. Fourteen days was plenty of time to get to Oregon and hop on a plane home. It was plenty of time to spend an extra day or two exploring.

  The coin in my pocket begged to be flipped.

  Heads left. Tails right.

  I smiled, anxious to pick up the Cadillac and sit behind the wheel. One more stop, then I was gone.

  One more stop, then I’d take this trip by quarter miles.

  Chapter Two

  Katherine

  I pulled into Gemma and Easton’s driveway just as my beautiful, pregnant friend came out the front door.

  “Morning,” I called as I got out of my truck.

  “Hey.” She waved me up the porch. “Easton should be back soon with the car.”

  “Where did he take it?” I was anxious to get on the road.

  “To fill it up.”

  I frowned as I reached the top step. “I know how to get gas.”

  “Oh, I didn’t send him away for you. He was driving me crazy, hovering over my every move, so I kicked him out.”

  I giggled. “How are you today?”

  “Good.” She smiled, leading me to the porch swing. “How are you?”

  “Nervous,” I admitted. “I haven’t taken a trip in a long time.”

  “You’ll love it.” She stroked her belly as I sat at her side, her eyes wandering over the view ahead.

  “Yeah, I think I will. It was a good idea.”

  “Thank you.” She shimmied with pride. “I have my moments.”

  Like the other Greer homes on the property, Easton and Gemma’s place was rustic and refined. The dark-stained exterior was broken by shiny, glimmering windows. The meadows surrounding their place were blooming with spring flowers. A deer and her fawn inched out from a copse of cottonwood trees, their noses bent to the grass and their ears raised at attention.

  We sat on the swing, rocking gently in the cool, crisp morning air. I tugged the sleeves of my sweater over my chilly knuckles as Gemma shoved her sleeves above her elbows. For the past month of her pregnancy, she’d cursed often how it was so damn hot.

  “Any word from your private investigator on Aria?”

  “He emailed me last night and said she’s still in Heron Beach.” Gemma shifted to take a sticky note from her pocket. “Here’s her address and the name of the hotel where she works.”

  I took the note and stuffed it into my pocket. “God, this is crazy.”

  “Maybe.”

  “What if she doesn’t want to see me?”

  Gemma scoffed. “Please. This is Aria we’re talking about. She’ll hug you so hard it’ll probably crack a rib.”

  I smiled. “True.”

  It was going to be strange seeing Aria after all these years. I could still see her and her sister, Clara, standing at the bus station, waving as Gemma, Londyn and I boarded a Greyhound destined for Montana. Clara had been crying while Aria had laughed, flipping us off for leaving them behind.

  “Do you think she’ll take the car to California?” I asked.

  Gemma shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. But if not, that’s okay. Come home and Easton and I will take it after the baby’s born.”

  On cue, a shiny red Cadillac appeared on the gravel lane ahead.

  This was it. That was my ride. Damn, I was nervous. About leaving. About driving. About everything. When had
I become this cowardly recluse?

  I’d grown up in Temecula, California. Though the city at large appealed, my childhood had not. I hadn’t grown up in a dreamy, suburban home with a white picket fence and a goldendoodle named Rover. My youth had been a nightmare. At sixteen, I’d run away from home to live in a junkyard with five other teenagers who’d each survived nightmares of their own, Gemma included.

  She’d been my roommate in the junkyard. The two of us had shared a makeshift tent, while Aria and Clara had lived in an old delivery van, and Londyn and Karson had turned a rusted 1969 Cadillac DeVille convertible into a home.

  The very car that bounced and bumped our way.

  “Did you call Londyn?” I asked Gemma.

  “I did. And she thinks my idea is brilliant too. She loves that her car is bringing us all together.”

  “Me too.”

  As we’d grown up, I’d lost touch with my junkyard friends. Gemma, Londyn and I had come to Montana for jobs at the resort, but they hadn’t lasted long. Londyn only four months, Gemma eight. They’d both landed in Boston and we’d gone years without talking until one day last fall, Gemma had shown up at the resort out of the blue, driving a Cadillac.

  Londyn had rescued her Cadillac from the junkyard and she’d had it completely restored. It was a piece of classic Americana. A showstopper. She’d set out in that Cadillac on a journey of her own, to find a new life. After she had, she’d given the car to Gemma, urging her to take her own trip.

  Now it was my turn behind the wheel.

  “Have you, um, talked to Cash?” Gemma asked. “About the trip?”

  “No. He didn’t come home on Friday.” Or last night.

  Every Friday night, the Greers had a family dinner at Carol and Jake’s home. It was a long-standing tradition, and much like the family photo, I’d been invited—expected—to attend. Maybe my last name wasn’t Greer, but from the outside, you’d never know.

  I’d cherished that invitation and rarely missed a Friday.

  When Gemma had arrived, they’d invited her too. They’d pulled her into their family without hesitation, but besides us, the unspoken rule was that dinner was not for others.

  Easton, Cash and I didn’t bring dates to family dinner because unless it was serious, you came alone. None of us had ever been in a serious enough relationship to warrant a family dinner introduction.

  Or so I’d thought.

  Last Friday, Cash had brought Dany, a pretty blonde I’d known for years, to dinner. Her family was from this area and they had their own ranch outside of Clear River. Her father served with me on the town council and always bragged about how much Dany loved being a nurse in Missoula, the closest city, located forty miles away.

  All through dinner, Cash had been enamored with Dany. Laughing. Whispering. Touching.

  It had broken my heart. Just like it had broken my heart knowing he’d spent the weekend with her while I’d been home alone, crying into a pint of ice cream because the man I’d loved for years would only ever see me as Kat, his unofficial sister.

  “I’m pathetic,” I whispered.

  “No, you’re not.” Gemma took my hand. “He’s an idiot.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  Cash Greer was a good man. He loved working with horses. He loved his family. He loved this ranch.

  He just didn’t love me.

  Easton pulled the Cadillac into the space beside my truck and Gemma pushed herself out of the swing, leading with her belly. My hands shook as I stood, shifting weight from one foot to the other as Easton climbed out of the driver’s seat. The cherry-red paint on the Cadillac’s hood was polished to a shine. Its chrome fender gleamed. It was one hell of a sight.

  And for the next two weeks, it was mine.

  I scrambled down the porch steps, greeting Easton as I went to the truck to unload my things. The sooner I got out of here, the sooner I would relax. I went to lift my caramel suitcase and move it to the Cadillac’s trunk, but Easton was there to do it for me.

  “Just this?” Easton asked.

  “And my purse.” I grabbed it from the truck’s front seat and took it to the Cadillac. “Thanks for taking care of everything. Call me if something comes up, okay?”

  Easton slammed the trunk closed, my suitcase safely stowed. “I will.”

  While Carol had insisted on handling everything on her own, Easton wouldn’t be as insistent on shutting me out. When things weren’t running smoothly at the resort, it only caused him stress, and when Easton was stressed, he wasn’t quiet about it.

  The Greers had set up their business in two parts—the ranch and the resort. Both worked closely in tandem with one another, and while I managed the resort, Easton managed the ranch.

  With thousands of acres to manage and maintain, he didn’t have time to dabble in guest services, nor did he have the desire. He would rather stay in his office in the stables than in the lodge with a waiting smile for any guest.

  As I focused my daily efforts on hospitality, Easton was busy overseeing all operations concerning the land itself and the livestock. He and his staff ensured pastures were fenced and free of noxious weeds. They managed the cattle herd and the horses. When my guests wanted to go on a trail ride, Easton’s crew led the excursion. From hikes to wagon rides to bonfires to guided hunting experiences, his team handled anything outdoors.

  If an activity involved a pillow, fork or confirmation number, it fell under my domain. When JR had retired and I’d been promoted to manager four years ago, the two of us had developed a system. We counted on each other for honesty and open lines of communication. Our relationship was built on trust.

  If there was a disaster, Easton would call, and knowing that settled some nerves about this vacation.

  “Have fun,” Gemma said, settling into Easton’s side. “Don’t worry about things here.”

  I nodded. “I’ll try.”

  “Got your Triple A card?” Easton asked.

  “Uh, no.” Why would I have Triple A? I hadn’t gone anywhere in years so why would I need roadside insurance? “But I have a phone.”

  He frowned. “What if you get a flat?”

  “Then I’ll change it and finally put the hours of practice you made me endure to good use.”

  Jake and JR had taken shifts teaching me how to drive. They hadn’t been able to believe that I’d come to Montana at eighteen and never been behind a wheel. But it was Easton I’d called when I’d gotten my first—and only—flat tire on a trip to Missoula. We’d come home and for the next week, he’d made me change one tire a day until he was sure I had it mastered.

  Easton was the oldest of the Greer sons and the closest thing I had to a big brother. He was overprotective and mildly annoying, but kind. When Gemma, Londyn and I had come to the ranch from the junkyard, he’d been working on the ranch, having already finished college. He was handsome and rugged, but he was too broody and serious for my taste. Besides, his heart had been Gemma’s for a long, long time.

  They were the perfect pair. Her sass and steel mellowed him. He tamed her wild nature and gave her roots.

  They would be difficult to be around if I didn’t love them both so much.

  “Do you want some cookies for the road?” Gemma asked, looking down the gravel road. “I made some last night.”

  “No, that’s okay. I think I’ll just get going.”

  “But are you sure? You might get hungry.” Before I could protest again, she held up a finger and walked toward the house.

  “Tell me these aren’t an experimental batch,” I said to Easton once she was out of earshot.

  Gemma had been enhancing a standard chocolate chip cookie recipe for the past month. Every few days, she’d come to my office with a half dozen for me to sample. When she’d brought in the batch with raisins and pistachios, I’d told her I was on a new diet, no sugar allowed.

  “No,” Easton said. “These are actually pretty good.”

  Gemma emerged a minute later with a zippered plastic b
ag stuffed with cookies. She took each step slowly, her eyes once again searching the road as she came to my side.

  I glanced over my shoulder but the lane was empty. “What?”

  “Nothing.” She handed me the cookies. “I thought I saw a deer.”

  “Ah.” I nodded. “Okay. Time to get going.”

  The quarter in my pocket was getting heavier and I was anxious to give it a flip.

  Gemma pulled me in for a hug. “I wish I could go with you.”

  “Me too.” I held her tighter, her baby belly requiring me to stand on my tiptoes to get over the bump. “Rest, okay?”

  “Yeah,” she muttered.

  At her prenatal checkup on Friday, the doctor had put her on activity rest, concerned with her blood pressure. Until their baby boy was born in a couple months, she was to relax. Gemma didn’t actually know what that word meant so I suspected the next two months would be entertaining at the very least.

  In all the years I’d known Gemma, she’d never stopped moving. Her ambitions were unparalleled.

  Cash was that way, in a state of perpetual motion. Unless we were watching a movie together, he always had something to do, whether it be an odd job around the house or something with a horse at the stables. Then again, maybe I just saw him as busy because we shared a home.

  The idea that he hadn’t been home made my heart twist.

  Was he still with her? Would he even notice I was gone? Or would he take this opportunity to fuck his girlfriend on our living room couch?

  Five years ago, I’d moved in with Cash. At the time, I’d been living in the staff quarters—a dormitory of sorts for the single, young, seasonal employees who didn’t have their own home in the area, complete with cramped rooms and communal bathrooms. Not that I was picky. I’d spent years in a dirty junkyard, and my childhood home before that hadn’t been much better.

  Carol and Jake had just built a new house in the foothills, their retirement home, and Cash had been living in their old home, alone with nearly three thousand square feet and two extra bedrooms.

  I’d accepted his invitation immediately. Living with Cash was easy. Comfortable. We talked every morning over coffee and cereal. We ate dinner together each night. He was my best friend. My confidant. My companion.