Over the other man’s shoulder, he saw through the wide windows that the auction had started. He didn’t recognize the auctioneer who had taken to the dais and was now holding what appeared to be—as Lange has predicted—a quilt with a big multicolored star in the middle.
Claire stood on the edge of the dais, apparently helping to organize the order of the auction items. Through the window, he could see her smile at something one of the other assistants said and something hard lodged in his chest. He couldn’t do this. He had spent his boyhood watching and wanting her. Why put himself through that as an adult?
“Maybe it would be better for everybody if I just stepped down and let Hope’s Crossing find a police chief who’s a better fit.”
At Lange’s continued silence, Riley finally turned and found the man watching him with uncomfortable perception. His gaze flicked between Riley and the auction inside and then back to Riley.
“Aah.”
Riley glowered. “What the hell does that mean, aah?”
“Nothing, kid. Nothing.”
“No, tell me. You’re the one who said your opinion was so damn important around here. I’d like to know.”
“Pretty girl, that Claire Tatum.”
“Bradford,” he corrected.
Harry made a dismissive sort of noise as if her ten-year marriage meant nothing. “Her mother can be a pistol, but Claire’s one of the nicest people in town. Genuinely nice, not just-because-you’re-loaded nice.”
Riley had no answer to that. This was not making him feel better, although he doubted that was Harry’s intention anyway. Why did the guy think anything about Claire mattered to him? First his mother guessed his feelings for her, now a virtual stranger. Was he wearing a frigging sign?
“Guess it’s a good thing you’re leaving, now that I think on it. Stupid asshole like you doesn’t deserve a nice girl like that.”
Why, again, was he standing here listening to a crazy old man? “Never mind. I don’t want your opinion after all.”
“That’s because you know it’s the truth. She deserves better than an idiot with one foot already out the door. I’m going to give you a little advice, kid.”
“Please, don’t hold back.”
Harry ignored his sarcasm. “Most people would say I’ve got everything I could ever want. Fancy house, priceless artwork, enough money to buy and sell most of the town. But I can tell you this. Regret makes a bitter companion. Think hard about what you’re giving up. That’s all.” He straightened. “Now if you’re done yakking at me, I’ve got a painting to buy.”
With an abrupt pivot, he turned and headed back into the hotel, leaving Riley standing alone with the echo of his words mingling with the sounds of the auction as the doors opened and then closed behind him.
Riley stared out at the night and the dark shadows of the mountains. Think hard about what you’re giving up.
Only everything he had never admitted he wanted.
This town. Home, family.
Claire.
Lange was right. He was an idiot.
His father had thrown everything away to selfishly go after his own dreams. How the hell was Riley any better than that? He was throwing away his dreams—the chance of a wonderful, joy-filled life here with the woman he loved—because he didn’t trust himself not to turn into his father.
He was not James McKnight. He never had been. Suddenly Riley knew without question that he would cut off his arm before he walked away from his obligations to pursue his own selfish desires, as his father had done.
He was in no danger of becoming like the man. He had spent nearly the last twenty years proving it. That fear was only one more excuse, a convenient rationalization to avoid allowing himself to be vulnerable. He was afraid of failing, of reaching out to grasp everything he had ever wanted for fear that he would screw up everything.
He had told Claire he didn’t want to hurt her. The bald truth was, he was more afraid of this tenderness inside him, this overwhelming need to be with her, to watch her smile, to become a better person just because she thought he could.
sHe had told her he didn’t want to cause her more pain. He would hurt her by walking away, just as James McKnight had done. Why would he do such a stupid, self-destructive thing when everything he wanted was right here?
Nineteen
The place was packed. He couldn’t see an empty chair anywhere. Claire must be thrilled at the turnout. At this rate, maybe they could raise enough green for two or three scholarships.
With nowhere to sit, Riley leaned a shoulder against the back wall to watch. He scanned the crowd, only half listening to the bidding going on for some kind of antique necklace. He could see his sister Angie and her husband, holding hands and looking easy and sweet together. His mother sat with Ruth and Katherine near the front and it looked like she’d already bid on something, judging by the package on her lap. Alex was there with some guy he didn’t know.