There were several of the photographs around the room that had someone missing out of them. Whoever it was had been cut out roughly with scissors. I picked up the nearest one off a dresser. Ian looked about ten years younger, fresh-faced and not as tall or as broad. He had one arm around a taller boy and the other over an empty space that used to have a person in it. “Looks like a bad break up.” I said, putting the frame back down.
“Ginny. They were together forever. Engaged to be married and then … well … not. It ended right after he got back from Las Vegas.”
I moved farther into the room. “What happened? Or is that too personal a question?”
She sighed. I glanced back and caught her leaning on the doorframe as she crossed her arms and looked at the carpet.
“I wish I knew. Ian’s not that open about his relationships and things he has going on outside of his life here on the ranch. I’m not even sure Mack knows. I know Angus doesn’t.” She pushed off the doorframe and dropped her arms to her sides. “It’s neither here nor there, though. It’s over and they’ve both moved on as best they could.” She gave me a brief smile to try and cover up the sadness that had descended. “Is there anything else you need?”
“A towel maybe?” I hated putting her out, but I felt like I had Baker City dust particles in every single crack and crevice of my body. A shower sounded like heaven. Maybe it would wash away my confusion too. My failure to push Mack into signing the papers was definitely due to exhaustion.
She smacked her forehead lightly. “I’m so sorry. Of course you need a towel. In the bathroom, under the sink. Take any one you like. There’s a robe on the back of the door, a small white one we keep for guests. Feel free to use that too. I laundered it just the other day.”
“I don’t want to steal anyone’s robe.”
“It doesn’t fit any of my men, so you don’t need to worry about that.” She tapped the doorframe with her palm a couple times. “Goodnight then, Andie. It was nice meeting you, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Yes, thank you for everything. See you tomorrow.”
I closed the door behind her and walked over to sit on the bed. Scanning the walls and shelves around the room, I counted no less than twelve pictures with Ginny’s face cut out of them. I wondered how much the trip to Vegas had messed up Ian’s life, just like it had Mack’s and mine. I also considered how much better off we all would have ended up if the trip had never happened.
I reclined back on the bed and tallied up all the effects on my life, courtesy of Las Vegas: Without Vegas, I wouldn’t have this marriage to dissolve. Without Vegas, I wouldn’t be sneaking around behind Bradley’s back out here in no-woman’s land with rattlesnakes and dust up my ass. Without Vegas, I wouldn’t be sitting in a strange man’s bedroom looking at his life in tatters. Without Vegas, I’d be dining at the private Mar-A-Lago Club with Bradley, talking with a disinterested group of so-called friends about how much we were paying for the flowers and cake. Without Vegas I wouldn’t have met Mack. I wouldn’t have seen him sitting there, played blackjack with him, rode the elevator up to my room with him, and had crazy monkey sex with him. Without Vegas, I wouldn’t be married to a stranger in a cowboy hat. I rolled over onto my side with a loud, sad sigh and took the troll doll off the sidetable, tucking it under my chin.
So why, oh why, didn’t Vegas feel like a mistake? And why did it feel like the only smart thing I’d done in the last ten years?
Chapter Twenty-Five
THE SOUND OF CLOMPING BOOTS on the stairs woke me up. I sat bolt upright, trying to figure out where the hell I was and what was going on. Looking down at myself I saw that I was still fully dressed in not only clothes but the thick layer of sweat and dust that had turned into an uncomfortable stickiness all over my body. The troll doll was clenched in my fist. Oh shit. I forgot to call Bradley. I put the doll on the night stand and grabbed my satchel off the bed, pulling my phone out. Dead. Shit. And I left the charger in my hotel room. A sense of relief went through me, and it scared me to realize it was because I was happy to have a decent excuse for not calling. I had zero desire to talk to him, and it wasn’t just because I didn’t want him to know what I was doing. All I could think about was how much he hated Ruby and how much I really loved her as a friend. There’s something seriously wrong with anyone who hates Ruby. Why didn’t I think about that before?