Reunited With The Cowboy. Claire McEwen
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to shoot a mountain lion?”
“I’m the temporary field biologist for this area, in charge of wildlife management, among other things. So, yes, you’ll need to clear the use of that permit with me.”
Her words filtered through his denial. “You can’t be serious.”
She sounded resigned. “I’m afraid I am.”
“I never thought I’d see you again.” The words tumbled out, rough and raw. He’d loved her. So damn much.
A pained smile twisted the corner of her mouth. “Don’t worry. Once I know for sure that my grandmother is doing well, I’ll leave. This job is just a temporary position for the summer.”
It was probably rude to feel so much relief. She had every right to be here, and if her grandmother needed her, then she should be here. But it didn’t mean he wanted Maya anywhere near him. All they could do for each other was bring up old hurt and brutal memories. And feelings. So many damn feelings that his throat burned with them, like they wanted to be shared, needed to be shared. But how could he? It was all so long ago. The damage he’d done had solidified into concrete. Had become the foundation on which they’d both built new lives.
He wanted to go, to retreat, to put at least a few miles between them. He took the first steps away. “Well, good luck with your grandmother. And the job.”
“I’ll need it.” Her mouth hinted at a wry smile. “Especially because Grandma is as stubborn as ever. And because I have to try to help ranchers like you with predator management.”
He couldn’t work with her. “I don’t need any help. A mountain lion killed my sheep. I have the right to shoot it. End of story.”
Maya made no sign that his tone bothered her; instead her voice remained steady and calm, like nothing about this meeting or this conflict shook her. “There are new regulations in place. You have to try to manage predators without harming them. Shooting is a last resort now.”
Worry settled cold in Caleb’s stomach. He couldn’t afford to lose one more animal. “What do I have to do?”
“Well, it depends on what you’re already doing. We can talk more about it when I visit your ranch.”
“Visit my ranch?” Caleb ran a hand over the film of sweat that was coating the back of his neck despite the chill night. Maya on his ranch. Maya seeing how run-down and ruined it was, how low he’d ended up. “Why do you need to visit my ranch?”
“To see where attacks have occurred. And to figure out how we can prevent any more of them.”
We? There could be no we here. “What do you know about ranching?” He was being rude, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want a visit. Didn’t want help. Didn’t want anything to do with her. Already he felt the pull, like she emitted some kind of memory-inducing pheromone that allowed him to see their past so clearly. Maya laughing by the swimming hole, water droplets clinging to her tanned skin. Maya riding these hills, next to him, reaching her hand out for his. Each image crystal clear, each memory so good.
Until it had all gone so bad.
She was silent for a moment, as if gathering up her next arguments. She’d always been stubborn, and it seemed like that hadn’t changed.
“Look, Caleb. We both know I’m not a rancher. But I know a lot about wildlife management and predator-prey relationships. So I’ll probably have some useful advice.”
He caught the edge of frustration in her voice. He was being a jerk, but maybe that was okay if it would help keep her from coming out to his property. He didn’t want time with her. Didn’t want to face everything he’d lost when he’d told her to leave. “We shouldn’t even be around each other.”
“Trust me—I was hoping to avoid you. But here we are.” She gestured around them, at the trail, at the night, in a sort of helpless way. Like their meeting was a fate she didn’t want but had already accepted.
Caleb didn’t want to accept it. Because he was already torn, wanting her to stay away and wanting to see her again. Because she was Maya and no one had ever made him feel the way she had. Even now, here, arguing, he felt some part of himself wake up, like it had been sleeping all these years, dormant. Waiting.
Maya reached for her pack and swung it up onto her back in an effortless motion. Though how someone so tiny could carry that much gear was beyond him.
“I’m going to be hiking out here for the next couple of days. I’ll stop by your ranch later in the week to talk about your options. How about Thursday?”
“Thursday,” he repeated stupidly. Because the whole idea that he and Maya were standing on this trail, in the middle of the night, making plans, was surreal. He didn’t want plans, didn’t want her help, and he opened his mouth to tell her, but she was already talking.
“Until then try not to shoot any lions. If you need to scare them off, blow a whistle. Bang a few pots and pans. Spray water. Get creative.”
Before he could answer, she gave a little wave, like they’d just run into each other on the street or something. Then she walked off into the darkness as if it was perfectly normal for her to head out into wild places, by herself, at night.
Maybe it was. He didn’t know her anymore. Not at all.
Caleb listened to her footsteps until they faded to nothing and she became just another part of the ghostly moonlight. Like she hadn’t been real. Like she’d never been here at all.
Except she was real. And when she showed up at his ranch, there’d be no hiding the mess there. She’d see it all. The leaning fences, the overgrown fields, the ruined barns, the neglected house. The visible evidence that his family had shattered beyond repair, on the night Maya drove into a tree and killed his sister.
CALEB THREW A dollar tip on the bar and took a gulp of his second beer. Dex’s Alehouse was busy for a Tuesday night. The usual customers crowded around the beat-up dartboards and pool tables. Ranch hands, workers from the vineyards, mechanics and store clerks—the regular folks of Shelter Creek—all showed up here.
Most of the town’s wealthier residents would be over at the new craft brewpub, or one of the wine bars that had opened up in Shelter Creek over the last few years. Change was coming, courtesy of better roads and direct flights from Los Angeles to the nearby city of Santa Rosa. Ranch land was being plowed under for vineyards. Big tasting rooms and cute inns were drawing weekend tourist crowds.
If he could, Caleb would pick up the whole town and move it a few hundred miles north, away from all the tourists. He’d keep it small and simple, just the way it had always been. Dex always said that Caleb lived in the past, and maybe that was true. So far the present hadn’t shown him much to get excited about.
Except now Maya was back. Though that wasn’t exciting. It was so many feelings, he didn’t even have words for them all. The combination was irritating, like a horsefly that kept buzzing around his head no matter how many times he slapped it away.
Why the hell did she have to be so...so Maya? Even on a dark trail, with a huge backpack on her back, she’d been achingly familiar. The flashlight had caught her long brown hair, woven into braids, the way she used to wear it when they went riding or did stuff around the ranch. He’d seen the shadows below her cheekbones and the light in her eyes.
He’d thought he’d never have to see any of that again. Figured it was for the best. Whatever had been between them was in the past. Separated from the present by the massive chasm of his sister’s death in Maya’s car.
He’d raged at Maya after the accident. Raged and blamed and thrown his grief like grenades, destroying everything they’d had.
Still, somehow, last night on the trail, there’d