Chapter Twenty
Josh spent the day thinking about Whitney’s distracted air. He had other things to do, of course, like answering a Gazette reporter’s questions about the fire that just happened to morph into a discussion of his “heated” romance with Whitney Wild. And when was he going to jet off to decadent European capitals?
“I’m not leaving Valentine,” he scoffed, slamming down the office phone at the ranch.
Nate looked up from his computer. “Was that Whitney?”
Josh frowned at him. “What are you talking about? You heard me talking about the fire with a reporter.”
“Oh, right.” Nate eyed him, then looked back down at his work.
“You think I’d leave Valentine?” Josh asked in surprise.
Nate shrugged. “You’re getting pretty close to her if last night was any evidence. She doesn’t live here. I just thought you might be considering… things, a long-distance relationship or something.”
He was considering “things,” but leaving Valentine? It seemed utterly foreign to him. This was where his family and their history coexisted. He’d never wanted anything else.
But what would he do to have Whitney? Wouldn’t leaving Valentine mean he was giving up everything else that was important to him?
He thought about Whitney’s behavior since she’d found out about her brother’s problems. Of course she’d been distracted and upset, but she was also… distant, as if she’d put up a see-through barrier to keep him at arm’s length—emotionally, anyway, certainly not physically. Things were always great between them physically. Of course, she worked hard to make it that way, he thought with a touch of confusion.
Or maybe she was considering leaving altogether, to join her family. He knew he would if his family were in trouble. But if she left Valentine so soon, she might never have the chance to fall in love with it again—to fall in love with him.
He imagined that the fire hadn’t helped. Being a rancher’s wife sometimes meant sleepless nights of worry. That would sober anyone, make her reconsider any further involvement with him.
Josh ran his hand through his hair. “Nate?”
Nate looked up expectantly, and Josh realized he didn’t even know what to ask.
“Never mind.”
Nate studied him for a moment. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I’ve got to work this out on my own.”
“Won’t be easy.” Nate leaned back in his office chair and linked his hands behind his head.
“What won’t be easy?” Josh asked.
“Whitney.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“You can’t push things, you know. She has to figure out for herself what she wants.”
“And that’s the lesson learned once too often by my big brother.”
“And learned the hard way. I was desperate to make Em see she could be happy here, but she had to come to it on her own.”
Josh hesitated, then sighed. “I never knew how hard just stepping back could be. Nothing ever mattered this much before.”
“My little brother is all grown-up,” Nate said melodramatically.
Josh tossed a pen at him. “And you’re still having to wait around, aren’t you? But this time it’s for a honeymoon.”
Nate shrugged. “I don’t mind. I have Em to myself every night. What would it matter if we were in some exotic resort? She wouldn’t enjoy it a bit if she wasn’t happy about how things stood with the bakery.”
“Since when did you turn into the patient one in this family?” Josh asked.
Nate just grinned.
But Josh did have second thoughts about a way to help Whitney fall in love with Valentine. Why not use what she was used to—the high society of Aspen? When he invited her on another date that night, she seemed glad for the opportunity to get away from her worries about her brother. Josh didn’t bring it up, and neither did she.
More than once she checked her phone, as if she was waiting for a certain message. From her family, he assumed.
She apologized the third time. “I know it’s foolish, but I keep searching the headlines, waiting for the news about my brother to break.”
They kept getting glances from strangers, and the old Whitney, the one who’d said “Ignore it!” was gone. Aspen had been a bad idea.
The next day, Whitney had breakfast at the Widows’ Boardinghouse. They wanted to talk about the fire, and, of course, their fan-club adventure. But their request for her help designing a newsletter didn’t sit well with Whitney, who ducked out as soon as she could, using changing the bandage on her couple stitches as an excuse. She was withholding too much from Josh, and it was weighing on her conscience.
Midafternoon, in the middle of reviewing references, she received another phone call from her mom and braced herself to resist the pressure to make a decision. But it was worse than she’d thought.
“Hi, darling, wonderful news.”
Whitney stared at the phone, shocked by her mother’s forced cheerfulness. “Uh, what is it?”
“We’ve just taken a suite at The Little Nell right in Aspen! Isn’t that marvelous?”
Whitney’s mouth dropped open. They’d been trying to persuade her, but this was pulling out the big guns.
“Wow, Mom. Who’s ‘we’?”
“Your father, brother, and I.”
“Chasz is with you?”
“He is.”
“And they both left New York in the middle of this—” She broke off, about to say “disaster.”
“You’re important to us, Whitney, darling, and we haven’t seen you in a while.”
She grimaced. “You mean my falling into line is important to you.”
“No,” Vanessa said patiently, “your understanding of the complexities of our situation is important, yes, but so are you. I didn’t like forcing all this on you so quickly. Your father saw that I was right. So will you come see us? How far away is Valentine Valley? And isn’t that the cutest name? A perfect place for Leather and Lace.”
Whitney shook her head. Her mother was trying very, very hard to pretend that all was normal when it wasn’t. Whitney could no longer duck phone calls, not when they were so close.
Sighing, she said, “I’m about a half hour away, Mom. I’ll be there soon.”
Whitney didn’t take any special care with her clothes—unless you counted in the reverse. Wearing jeans, cowboy boots, and her pink-and-green-checked Western blouse, she strode into the understated elegance of The Little Nell lobby as if she was wearing a fur coat and Jimmy Choos.
When her mother opened the door to the suite, her pleased smile faded only slightly, to her credit. And then she hugged Whitney hard.
“Darling, it’s so good to see you. And being here in Colorado has agreed with you! Such color in your face.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Whitney stepped back. Vanessa was still tanned and fit, her dark hair impeccably styled, her face subtly assisted where any new wrinkles were concerned. Behind her, the suite was a rich backdrop of paneled walls, hardwood floors, and art from The Little Nell’s private collection. Columns supported the ceiling, separating the living room from the dining room and sunroom. The panorama of Aspen Mountain filled every window.
Past her mom, Whitney could see her dad, just rising from the leather couch near the gas-log fireplace with his iPad in one hand. He wore perfectly pressed pants and a buttoned-down shirt open at the collar, as if he hadn’t just flown across the country. But then again, the Winslow Enterprises jet hardly crammed them together into too-small seats. The gray above his sideburns was a little more pronounced, but otherwise he looked successful and rich and aware of it.
He blinked at her cowgirl outfit but gave her a faint smile anyway. “Hello, Whitney.”
“Nice to see you, Dad.” She crossed to him and he leaned over for the perfunctory kiss on the cheek. She looked around. “Where’s Chasz?”
“Playing tennis,” Vanessa said. “It was… a long flight. He should be back any—”
The door opened, and Chasz breezed in, dressed completely in white, including the towel around his neck. He had dark, wavy hair, bright blue eyes, and a grin that had gotten him too much in life.
“There you are, Whitney,” he said. “I can see why you’ve stayed here during this summer.”
Whitney arched a brow and said dryly, “You mean my work?”
“The weather! Not humid at all. I don’t think I’ve ever been here this time of year before.”
“Are we really going to talk about the weather? Or maybe how you screwed up?”
She heard Vanessa inhale; her father said nothing, but Chasz’s eyes narrowed. He was still cheerful as he said, “My problems will blow over just like yours did.”
She laughed without humor. “My problems didn’t include aiding corporate theft, now did they?”
“Just drop the act, Charles,” their father said.
Chasz winced at his formal name, which only their father used.
“We’re here for an important reason, one caused by you,” Charles Sr. continued. “I suggest you not begin to bicker with the one person who can help you.”
Whitney rounded on her father. “I’m the one person who can help? Not his lawyer? Not a therapist? Please don’t assume I am so easily manipulated.”
Charles frowned. “I don’t think manipulation is involved. I asked for your help, and I’ve been waiting for an answer. I can’t wait much longer.”
“What’s the plan if I say no? I have important work that has to be finished before the holidays, and people waiting to hear if I’ve hired them.”
“There’s no other plan, Whitney,” Vanessa suddenly said, her hands clenched together. “You’re our only hope.”
Whitney groaned and walked to the window, looking out on the ski slope, which was now green and dotted with wildflowers. Her brother was the one at fault, but they were acting like the fate of the company—of their family—rested firmly on her shoulders.
“I haven’t made a decision yet.”
“That’s all right,” Vanessa said brightly. “You take the time you need. Let’s go have dinner together.”
Chasz left the room to shower, walking at stiff, wounded attention.
“Did you bring something to change into?” Vanessa asked hesitantly.
“Nope, so let’s go hit the barbecue place on Main Street where I’ll fit right in.”
Throughout dinner, Whitney tried to pretend this was just any other family reunion . She asked about her mother’s charity work, and her father’s golf game. Chasz seemed… glum, but what was she going to ask him: So is your wife planning to take half of everything? How’s your mistress? Was she worth throwing away your marriage, your respect, and company secrets?
Whitney had never been all that close to him, but the chasm between them just seemed to keep widening.
And then she remembered Josh, Nate, and Brooke, fighting a fire together or riding beneath a blue sky, so at ease with each other. It just seemed so far from her reality. And it made her sad.
Her father downed another gin and tonic, then looked at her. “So why did you choose this Valentine place over Aspen for your next store?”
She’d told him, but even if he’d forgotten, at least he was asking. “Valentine Valley is all about romance, as you can guess from the name. I like the vibe there, the old-fashioned Main Street—and frankly, the building prices.”
“And the men?” Chasz interrupted. “ ‘Whitney Wild Lands Cowboy Artist’?”
“We said we weren’t going to bring that up,” Vanessa said tightly.
Even her father shot Chasz a disapproving look. It was a little strange to see the golden boy out of favor. Chasz picked up a rib and went back to eating.
“It’s all right,” Whitney said. “As Chasz knows, sometimes you can’t control the reporters. I’ve been in town for a few weeks, and yes, the man I’ve been seeing is the artist who’s doing some work for my stores. He’s incredibly talented, and a nice guy. He’s introduced me to his family and friends, so I’m not so alone here.”
“You’ve been here over a month?” her dad asked.
She nodded.
“And your other stores are under good management, to be doing well without you.”
“They are, but I’m in the process of hiring for this third store, and the renovations are almost done.” So I can’t easily jet off to Manhattan with you.
But she hadn’t quite said no. When had she ever been so wishy-washy? She was angry that her stores mattered so little, and angry that they thought she could save them—and deep down, ambivalent about Winslow Enterprises itself. When had that happened?
Her father only nodded, and she was rather surprised. No insistence that these “little stores” didn’t need her? Or maybe he was just planting some seeds of doubt he hoped would flourish.
The rest of the meal was strained but cordial, and they walked back to The Little Nell in the darkness.
“Stay with us tonight,” Vanessa said when they entered the lobby. “It’s too late to drive back.”
It was a dark, winding drive, though a four-lane highway. Before she could answer, her phone rang, and she saw the ID. “I have to take this call.”
“This late?” her mother said. “Oh, but of course it’s not business. If that’s Mr. Thalberg, invite him to have breakfast with us. I’d like to meet him.”
Whitney could only nod and turn away as she answered the call. “Hi, Josh.”
“Hey, Whitney. I dropped by the B&B, but you weren’t there. Sorry, I should have called.”
“Trust me, I didn’t have any idea what was going to happen.” She looked over her shoulder and found her parents and brother talking close together near the columned half wall separating the lobby from the more casual gathering area. They didn’t leave, as if they thought she’d head back to Valentine Valley if out of their sight. She took a deep breath. “I’m in Aspen. My parents surprised me by arriving today.”
“Wow. Well of course you had to go.”
“We just had dinner, and it’s late enough that they want me to spend the night.”
“You should.”
“And… they’d like to meet you. Want to come for breakfast tomorrow—if you can spare the time, of course?”
“I’d like that.”
She could hear the pleasure in his voice, and knowing how important he viewed family, understood him. She felt a little awkward, unused to bringing a man to meet her family. Had she ever done that before?
“One problem,” he continued. “I have to work in the morning. Is lunch okay?”
“Sure.” She closed her eyes, imagining her mom taking her shopping since she hadn’t brought a change of clothes. That would at least seem a normal way to pass the morning. “Why don’t you meet us at noon in The Little Nell lobby?”
“They travel in style. I’ll be there. Have a good night.”
There was a pause, and she found she didn’t want to hang up, as if he were the only normal thing in her life.
“Josh—” She broke off, hearing how wistful she sounded.
“I miss you, too. Sleep well.”
She stared at the phone and shook off his spell.