Sunlight (Haven River Ranch)

Be nice. Indya had ordered me to be nice to Sasha.

Damn it, I was nice. I’d been the epitome of nice since the day we’d met at the grocery store. Did anyone on the ranch know about the shopping cart fiasco? No. Because I’d kept my mouth shut. Since she’d started working at the resort, hadn’t I been civil? Hell yes, I’d been civil, despite the fact that she barely acknowledged my existence. Who’d hauled her car out of the ditch on Saturday? Me.

That was me being nice.

But all of the niceness wasn’t doing a damn thing to win favor with Sasha. All I’d gotten in three months was a frosty stare and some snarky comments. Saturday, she’d added a mocking curtsy to her repertoire.

A smarter man would probably give up. Move on. Every encounter with Sasha was brutal for my ego.

Except I couldn’t get her out of my head. I liked her snarky comments. That mocking curtsy had been cute. There was no reason her frosty stare should be attractive, but damn if it didn’t turn me on. Maybe because I knew, down to my bones, that the vibrant woman I’d met in the grocery store parking lot was in there somewhere. She had to be in there somewhere.

It had been three months. Three fucking months, and she still wouldn’t admit we’d met before her first day at the lodge. Why?

The reason she’d turned me down for dinner that day had to be because of her job at the resort. It was understandable. Granted, she could have just told me she was coming to work at the ranch, but whatever. Maybe she’d been embarrassed. I wasn’t her boss, but as an owner, I wasn’t not her boss, and those lines were blurry.

But was friendship out of the question? At this point, I’d settle for being an acquaintance. I’d take anything other than her cold shoulder.

Three months, and Sasha still hadn’t thawed.

She was so damn uptight—probably shouldn’t have said that out loud Saturday, but it was true. And whether she liked it or not, we were going to have to work together. While Indya was on maternity leave, Sasha and I would need to spend more time together.

I refused to spend those weeks working with an ice queen.

It was time to clear the air. For good. Maybe then I could get Sasha Vaughn and her pretty brown eyes out of my head.

I stomped my boots outside the lodge’s front door, kicking off the last bit of snow before stepping inside. A blast of warmth greeted me in the lobby. The scents of bacon and brown sugar filled the air. The clink of utensils on plates and the murmur of conversation sounded from the dining room. The antler chandelier hanging from the rafters cast a golden glow through the room.

Indya had changed a lot about the resort in the past seven years. She’d expanded the lodge, adding a spa, fitness center, and locker rooms for our staff. She’d turned our old barn into an event venue for weddings and parties. She’d renovated cabins and guest rooms. She’d transformed our family’s small business into a premier Montana resort. We were booked solid for the next two years, and the waiting list was a mile long.

But even though there had been countless changes, Indya had also stayed true to our family’s roots. The sentimental areas had been left mostly untouched.

Other than some additional lighting, the lobby looked just like it had when I was a kid. Rustic, wooden walls. Oak floors my grandfather had installed himself. And that antler chandelier my grandmother had commissioned specifically for this space.

This was one of my favorite places on the ranch. The energy from guests. The nostalgia. The food and hot coffee. Every time I visited, it felt like home.

The lodge used to be a regular stop in my daily routine. I’d swing in to refill my thermos or grab an employee sack lunch from the kitchen. On days when I wasn’t slammed, I’d bullshit with Indya in her office or talk to guests milling about.

But I’d been avoiding the lodge lately.

Because of Sasha.

No more. This had to stop. We didn’t need to be friends, but I was sick and tired of seeing her frown whenever I walked into a room.

“Morning,” I told Mindi as I crossed the lobby.

“Hey, Jax.” She fluttered her fingers at me from the reception desk.

“Is Sasha here?”

Mindi nodded. “She’s in her office.”

“Great.” I started for the hall, but before I could disappear, Mindi stepped out from behind the desk, blocking my path.

“Thanks again for the ride on Saturday,” she said.

“No problem. I was going into town anyway.” Grandpa needed his scratch tickets.

Mindi had hitched a ride to the ranch on Saturday morning for her shift. The friend who’d dropped her off had left for the day, planning on coming back to pick her up that evening. Except Mindi wasn’t working on Saturday. She’d gotten her schedule mixed up.

So I’d offered to give her a lift home so she wouldn’t have to sit around the lodge all day.

I moved to sidestep Mindi, but she put her hand on my arm and inched closer. Too close.

Well, shit. Mindi was nice enough, but I wasn’t interested in anything romantic. Not even a little. Now things were going to get awkward.

“Do you want to get a drink or something after work?” She batted her eyelashes as she asked the question.

Why did women bat their eyelashes? It didn’t do a damn thing for me, but it happened a lot.

Wait. Had she actually gotten her shift wrong on Saturday? Or had it been some sort of ploy?

“Look, Mindi. I appreciate the offer, but no, we can’t get a drink or something after work.”

“Oh.” She pouted.

I hated pouting.

“It’s because I work here, isn’t it? Since you’re, like, my boss’s boss.” She glanced over her shoulder, making sure we were alone before she lowered her voice. “I could quit.”

What the actual fuck? She’d quit her job for a date? I did not understand women. “Don’t quit your job.”

“Are you sure? I don’t love working for Sasha. She’s very . . .”

Professional. Composed. Organized.

“Bossy,” Mindi said.

“She is your boss.”

“Yeah, but you know what I mean.”

No. I really didn’t. “Don’t quit your job, Mindi. Okay?”

Another pout.

Time for this conversation to be over. I tugged my arm loose from her grip. Part of me wanted to leave it at that and just walk away. But I wasn’t sure Mindi was the type to read between the lines. So I made sure my message was perfectly clear.

“Even if you weren’t working here, I don’t think us dating is a good idea.”

Her eyes blew wide. “What? Why not?”

Once upon a time, I’d make up some ridiculous nonsense, like how I was afraid of commitment or how I had too much personal baggage for a relationship. But more often than not, any time I’d shown my red flags, it’d lured women closer rather than sending them running.

Apparently, they saw me as a challenge. A guy they could fix.

“I like someone else,” I told her. And it was the truth.

“Oh. Then why were you flirting with me on Saturday?”

Seriously? She thought me talking with her about her dog was flirting?

“Well, I’m late for a meeting with Sasha.” I stepped around her, successfully this time. “See ya around.”

She harrumphed. “Yeah. I guess.”

Yep, awkward. Fantastic. That was exactly how I didn’t want to start my Monday.

I raked a hand through my hair as I made my way down the hall. Then I smoothed down the front of my coat and took a fortifying breath before I reached Sasha’s office. My heart was racing as I stepped across the threshold.

What was it about Sasha Vaughn that was so damn frazzling? No woman had ever unnerved me this way. That meant something, right?

I cleared my throat and knocked on her open door.

Her pretty eyes shifted away from her monitor. For the briefest moment, they widened and her mouth parted, like her breath hitched. Then that unguarded surprise was gone, replaced by the cool stare and blank expression.

Grrr. It was infuriating and annoying and . . . gorgeous. There was no reason for a woman that irritated by my presence to be so hot.

“Come in,” she said, her voice flat.

I stood in the doorway and crossed my arms over my chest. Today, I didn’t really feel like taking her orders.

“Or not,” she muttered, smoothing the hair at her temple. She’d slicked it into a bun above her nape. Uptight.

And stunning. As stunning as the winter paradise beyond the windows at her back.

Other than Saturday, when her hair had been wet and frozen, I rarely saw her with it loose and long like she’d worn it at the grocery store.

Like most days, it was smoothed to perfection. Not a strand out of place.

God, what I wouldn’t give to tug free that hair. To unravel this woman with my hands and watch her come apart beneath my touch.

But since that wasn’t likely to happen, it was time to do what I’d come here to do. Starting with an apology.

“I’m sorry I called you uptight.”

“Oh.” She blinked, clearly expecting me to continue with something else. Her guard dropped, for just a moment, her shoulders sagging. But as quickly as they’d fallen, they snapped into place, her spine stiff and her voice impassive. “I am uptight. No need to apologize for stating the truth. It’s fine.”

Was it fine? She didn’t sound fine. “You’re also smart. And hardworking. And beautiful.”

A flush of pink colored her cheeks as she looked anywhere else but at the door.

For once, it was nice not to be the only one frazzled here. I shoved off the door’s frame and walked into the office. Sasha’s eyes snapped to mine.

“According to West, I take next to nothing seriously,” I said. “Maybe being a little uptight isn’t a bad thing.”

She watched me cautiously as I sank into one of the chairs in front of her desk, relaxing into the seat to kick up an ankle over my knee.

“Indya told me that we need to start coordinating on guest excursions.”

“Yes.” She cleared her throat.

“All right.” I nodded. “What do you need?”

“I honestly don’t know much about your side of the business.”

“Then I’ll give you an overview.” Since Sasha had started as manager, her focus had mostly been on the lodge. Housekeeping. Maintenance. Dining. If it occurred under this roof, it fell under her umbrella.

In just three months, she seemed to have picked up a thorough understanding of all the resort’s operations. It was incredible how quickly she’d picked it all up.

Indya hadn’t wanted to overwhelm Sasha with the excursions, too, not when she’d just started. But now that Sasha was settled, there was more to learn.

“Maybe we could walk through how the scheduling works,” she said. “That way I can answer questions from guests. Right now, I just send those questions to Indya.”

“Sure. Would be good for you to take a few of these excursions too.”

“Oh, uh . . .” She shook her head. “That’s okay. Just the logistics will be fine.”

“Not even a hayride?”

“Allergies.” Her eyes flicked to the ceiling. It happened so fast I almost missed it. Almost.

Sasha wasn’t allergic, was she?

“And horses? Allergic to those too?”

“No. But I’m not really a horse person.”

“Yet you took a job at a Montana guest ranch where horseback riding is a main draw.”

“For the guests.”

“Why not you?”

She shrugged. “I’m not particularly interested.”

“Ah.” The corner of my mouth lifted. “Scared of horses?”

“No.” That pretty gaze flicked skyward again.

Interesting. I’d seen that flicker before, but I hadn’t realized until just now what it meant. Did she know that she looked up when she lied? It was a dead giveaway.

A smirk stretched across my mouth. It was going to be fun watching for her lies.

“Excited for the party on Saturday?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Not especially. I’m not really a party person.”

This woman. No hayrides. No horses. No parties. Did she hate all fun things?

Saturday was the annual Haven River Ranch employee celebration. It was a tradition that Indya and West had started five winters ago. Rather than host a big Christmas party during a hectic time of year, we threw a party in January for the staff.

For one night only, we shut down nearly everything on the resort. We blocked out the day so there were as few reservations as possible. Often, staff members would rent rooms, so they didn’t have to drive into town. We ran the lodge with a skeleton crew so that as many people as possible could participate.

There’d be a local band in the event space for dancing. We’d have food and drinks all night. We’d even run a shuttle to and from town for the folks who didn’t spend the night, so no one would be tempted to drive home drunk.

“It’s a fun night,” I told Sasha. “Don’t skip it.”

“I wasn’t planning on skipping.” Another eye flicker. Another lie.

I grinned and shook my head, about to bust her for this one when the phone on her desk jingled.

She picked it up, glancing at the screen. “I have to take this.”

“Find me later when you want to talk about scheduling.”

“Okay.” She glanced at the door, a clear get out and be quick about it.

I shoved to my feet and walked out as I heard her answer the call.

“Hey, Micah.”

Micah. Who was Micah?

If I asked, I’d probably just get another lie.

So I pulled her door closed, then retreated toward the lobby. That had gone about as expected. Not bad. Not great. But not bad.

Luck was on my side when I emerged from the hall. Mindi was on the phone with a guest, so I could skip another awkward moment. I lengthened my strides, wanting to duck out before she finished. I was nearly to the door, nearly free, when it opened, and Lily walked inside.

Damn. There’d be no avoiding awkward, not today.

“Jax. Oh, um, hi.” She masked the surprise quickly as she stomped the last bit of snow from her shoes.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” She tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear. There were more strands of gray than normal. I guessed she’d stopped getting it colored. “How’s it going?”

“Fine,” I clipped.

Was she going to move? Or just block the door forever? Definitely should have taken the employee side entrance today.

“I’m meeting West for some coffee and breakfast if you’d like to—”

“Can’t.” Join them? Absolutely not. I’d gladly have breakfast with my brother, but not Lily. I nodded to the door she was still blocking. “I’ve got to get to work. I’m taking out the hayride today.”

Granted, it wasn’t until three, and I didn’t need more than an hour to prep. Something Lily knew. Unlike Mindi, Lily could read between the lines. And I’d rather muck stalls than share a breakfast table with her.

“Right.” She winced as she shifted out of the way. “I’ll let you get to it.”

Without a goodbye, I opened the door and slipped past her outside. A gust of icy wind blasted me in the face, the cold doing little to cool my rising temper as I marched to the stables.

Lily had been coming to the resort more often these days. Too often for my liking. Every time, it was like a slap in the face.

She’d been married to Dad for years and used to manage the resort. As a kid, the hours I’d spent in this lobby had been at her side. But she was West’s mother, not mine. Something she’d made abundantly clear.

So if she drove out here to see him, fine. This was his ranch. But she could leave me the hell alone.

I wasn’t her son—that had been her choice, not mine.

Lily was the only mother I’d ever known. She’d changed my diapers. She’d rocked me to sleep. She’d sung me lullabies when I had bad dreams.

But she’d drawn a line. I was nothing more than the bastard child from Dad’s one-night affair decades ago. Lily had drawn that line.

It would be great if she could fucking respect it and leave me the hell alone.

By the time I made it to the stables, the edge to my anger had dulled. I opened the door and breathed in the scent of hay and dirt and horses. There was only a handful of animals inside today. Most of the others were outside grazing the hay that we’d put out for them this morning.

This building was another one of Indya’s upgrades. It was massive, with spacious stalls for the animals and plenty of room for storage. Next door was another new building—a shop where we kept our equipment and tools out of the weather. Both the stables and shop were set away from the lodge but close enough that guests could make the short walk for their excursions.

I walked down the long center aisle to my office, then opened the door and flipped on the light. While Sasha’s office was organized and clean, mine was a disaster. Paperwork was scattered across the desk. The calendar on the wall was two months behind. The trash can was overflowing with wadded-up schedules and a few crushed beer cans.

If Sasha wanted to review the excursion process, it would be easier to do it out here than in the lodge. But I had a feeling that she’d take one look at my mess and run the opposite direction, so I snagged the trash and carried it out to the larger bin we kept by the stalls.

A horse nickered, the sound echoing through the wooden rafters, just as the door opened. The light from outside was a flash of white before it vanished as Dad stepped inside, closing out the cold behind him.

He stomped his boots and tugged off his leather gloves. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Figured you’d be out here. Just ran into Lily in the lodge.”

She’d probably taken one look at him and changed her mind about breakfast altogether. Or maybe that was why he was here. He’d been the one to run away.

While I hadn’t spoken much to Lily in years, not since our big fight before I left for college, we still acknowledged each other, even if those interactions were short and stunted.

But she hadn’t spoken a word to Dad in years. Not a single word. She’d taken the silent treatment to a whole new level.

“What’s up?” I asked Dad.

“Thought I’d see if you needed any help today.”

“No, not really.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m good. It’s quiet today.”

“Oh.” Dad frowned. Was he bored or something? Dad wasn’t great at being idle, and even though he’d been retired for over seven years, he was still adjusting to the slower pace.

Mondays in the winter were the quietest days for guest excursions. It was too cold for long trail rides. Most of my team had the day off, and while we offered private riding lessons, none of the current guests had signed up, giving me most of the day off too.

We had a handful of snowmobiles for tours around the ranch, but that particular excursion didn’t run on Mondays. Today was the hayride with hot cocoa. So the stables were quiet. The spa, on the other hand, was slammed on Mondays.

“I could do the hayride,” Dad offered.

“Really? It’s freezing.”

“I don’t mind.”

Then he must be desperate. The last time Dad had offered to lead an excursion had been, well . . . I couldn’t remember when. Definitely not when the temperature was below zero.

It had been before Indya had bought the ranch. And before that, West and I had managed them all with the staff.

Dad sighed. “I’m just trying to help out. If I can.”

“Ah.” Was this offer to win favor with me? Or West?

There was a lot of tension between my father and older brother. Years ago, Dad had gone behind West’s back and sold the ranch to Indya. It was before West and Indya had gotten together.

For me, that betrayal had faded with time. For West? I wasn’t sure he’d ever really get over it. Everything had worked out in the end, but my brother’s hard feelings had lingered.

While the sale had dented my relationship with Dad, it had nearly broken his with West.

“If you really want to do the hayride, I’m not going to stand in your way.” There were a few projects waiting for me at home I wouldn’t mind tackling.

“Great. I’d love to do it.” He clapped me on the shoulder, then put on his gloves. “I’ll be back this afternoon. Ride’s at three?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Three o’clock. Guests can swing by the dining room to pick up their beverages. Then they’ll walk over here to load up.”

“Sounds good.” He waved, then headed for the door.

Once he was gone, I spun in a slow circle, making sure there wasn’t anything urgent for the day. Then I shut the lights off in my office and made my way to my truck parked outside to drive home.

The lane was nothing more than two narrow, beaten paths of tire tracks in the snow, but I didn’t need much of a road. Not when I was the only person who came this way regularly. On occasion Dad or West or my grandparents would swing by my house, but for the most part, I didn’t have many visitors. I had this quiet, secluded slice of the Haven River Ranch to myself.

Ages ago, my grandparents had built two cabins for full-time employee housing. They’d been used for a time when Dad was a kid, but that was long before I’d been born. Most of my life, they’d sat empty, suffering the Montana seasons year after year.

When I was a kid, the cabins had been my hideaway forts. As a teen, my friends and I had snuck out and thrown parties inside. Then after college, when I’d moved home to live on the ranch, I’d decided to take them over for myself, restoring them piece by piece.

It had taken years of sweat to turn them into homes. Most of the remodeling I’d done myself, stealing West’s help when I’d needed extra hands. My house was finished now. I’d done a massive add-on a few years back, and it hardly resembled the small place it had once been.

The other cabin had been my most recent project. Since I wasn’t living there, the updates had been slow, but after months and months, it was nearly finished too.

I owned the five hundred acres surrounding my houses. A gift from Indya and West I still wasn’t sure I deserved.

While she and West owned the bulk of the acreage, my grandparents along with Dad and me each had a sizeable chunk too.

Mine was the prettiest spot on the whole property. West argued the plot where they’d built their house was better—my brother wasn’t wrong often, but in this case, he was wrong.

The sprawling meadow that surrounded my house was blanketed in snow. The evergreens were kissed with frost, glittering beneath the morning sun. A plume of steam rose from the furnace vent in my roof.

I cut a path in the snow to the cabin beside my house and headed inside. The oak floors were new, and I wanted them to stay perfect for a little while longer, so I toed off my boots as I stepped inside, then made my way to the laundry room at the rear of the house.

It was the last space to be completed. Every other room was done and furnished. The stone tile was in place and needed grout. Then I’d finish up with some sealant and bring in a new washer and dryer.

Dad thought fixing up this place was a waste of money. He thought bulldozing it to the ground would have been a better use of my time. Maybe he was right. It was fifty yards from my own house, and I had no desire for a neighbor. But the idea of leveling one of Grandpa’s creations didn’t sit right.

Sure, it looked different than it had when he’d built it. But it was still standing. That counted for something, right?

I’d saved as many pieces as possible. On both houses, I’d kept the original wooden siding and used it for accents to the new board-and-batten. I’d refinished and rehung a few of the original doors, one to my pantry and the other to this laundry room. I’d even saved one of Grandma’s old claw-foot tubs for my primary suite’s bathroom.

With my supplies ready, I got to work, grouting the whole floor just as my stomach began to growl, hungry for lunch. I was at the kitchen sink, washing up, when the sound of an engine rumbled outside. I dried my hands and headed to the door, opening it just as West climbed out of his truck.

“Hey.” I waved him inside.

“Hi.” He shook my hand as he stepped inside, his boots joining mine. “This place looks great. You’ve done a lot since I was here last.”

“Thanks. It’s been keeping me busy since Christmas.”

He walked deeper into the house, turning around in a slow circle. “You furnished it all?”

I shrugged. “I figured maybe this could be a guest house whenever we have company who don’t want to stay at the lodge.”

Not that we ever had much company. I certainly didn’t. No aunts or uncles. My grandparents had their own house. Dad had his. My college buddies came from time to time, but it was rare.

Maybe I’d just sleep over here when I needed a different view.

West hummed, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw. “This might work.”

“What might work?”

“I, uh, need a favor.” He took another slow spin before facing me again. “I need you to let Sasha live here.”

Not a chance I’d heard that right. “Say that again.”