Hap relished showing off and one-upping his cronies, but he was cheap. Before anyone could order supplies, they had to call Hap and ask. Hap refused to give any of the staff a budget or any kind of idea what they should spend.
Trey hated having to ask for anything. He was used to being in control. He always had been on the ranch, and when he’d left Texas and his family’s ranch behind, he’d stopped asking anyone’s permission to do anything.
Until he’d started working here, that was. “I’ll ask Hap about the order after I get back from the bank.” He grabbed the bank bag with the deposit he’d already counted and headed out the door. It was a nice day, and the walk to the bank would be good for him.
Even though the sun was still out, the mountain’s shadow had fallen over the town. Sitting in a box canyon, some part of Telluride was always in the shade.
The breeze cut through the afternoon, and he shivered. Lord, this place was so different from Texas.
His phone rang just then, and he pulled it out of his pocket to look at the screen. The ranch. Just the thought of the home he’d left behind seemed to summon his past. He pocketed the phone again, not even bothering to silence the ringer.
He’d only answered a call from the ranch once, the first week he’d been here. He’d foolishly thought there was some emergency. Someone was dying, maybe. But it had just been one of the hands asking for Trey’s input—and for help getting his father, Pal Junior, to change his mind about something. Trey had hung up.
He’d left that all behind.
He needed a life without his grandfather’s legacy or anyone’s influence. If he was going to build a new life, he had to completely leave the old behind.
And the old had to let him go. They, apparently, found that harder to do than he did, since they kept calling. He’d eventually check his voice mail, but not today, and not any time soon.
“Afternoon, Trey,” Linda, the head teller, called from her station as he entered the bank. She didn’t bother to stop counting the stack of twenties in front of her. The woman could, and probably did, count money in her sleep.
“Hey, Linda.” Trey moved to her counter to make the deposit. “How come you aren’t up on the slopes? Looks like a good day for some runs.” Trey and Linda had met on a black diamond ski run his first week here, and had shared several conversations about their love of skiing when he came into the bank.
She was pretty, and he’d even thought for a minute and a half about asking her out. She’d be a perfect fit for him—at least the him he wanted to be. But something didn’t feel right.
In the past, he’d have asked her out without even thinking twice. He liked women but—He stood there watching her...and had no desire to make any move. Dating was a commitment he wasn’t ready to take on yet.
“Yeah.” The rubber band she put around the stack of cash snapped into place, breaking into his thoughts. Thankfully, Linda was oblivious to what he was thinking as she reached for his deposit. “But just like you, I need to eat and keep a roof over my head.”
“I hear you.” He nodded and waited until she’d finished putting all the assorted papers and pieces away before handing him back the bag.
Stepping outside, he gave one last longing glance at the slopes and the skiers flying down the hill. He wished he were there, losing himself in the cold, the sun and adrenaline. But he headed back to the bar.
“Hap’s on the phone,” Gabe called as soon as Trey stepped inside.
He hadn’t even removed his coat, but he took the phone. “Afternoon, Hap.”
“Afternoon, Trey. Gabe said you were ordering supplies?” Trey looked over at his cook, who’d obviously heard and simply shrugged.
“Just got back from making the deposit.” He knew what was really important to the old man. “I planned to give you a call, but yeah, we need supplies.” Gabe deserted him, going into the kitchen.
“Let me see—”
“Big weekend’s coming. New powder made the news. We’ll be swamped.” He knew how to get Hap’s attention. “Could be a profitable week.”
“Hmmm. You think so? I’m not sure.”
Sometimes Hap was too much like Pal Senior—too damned cheap. Trey nearly cursed aloud. No one was as bad as the old reprobate. “Look, I can run this place on a shoestring, but that’s going to make your deposits smaller. Today’s was good. I think you’ll be pleased.”
“I’ll log on.” Through the phone, Trey heard the sound of Hap tapping computer keys. Hap kept tabs on him by checking the bank account online each day. “Well, what do you know. That’s lookin’ good.” A few more keystrokes.
“So, can I get some more supplies in?” Trey hoped Hap didn’t hear the way he gritted his teeth.
“Yeah. Make an order. But don’t make it too big. Just enough to get us through the weekend. Don’t want anything left over to just sit there and go bad or anything.”
Trey refrained from telling the old man that alcohol didn’t go bad sitting for a few days and most everything else would be frozen. Now that he had the go-ahead, he ended the call quickly so he could make the orders before the suppliers closed for the day.
“We getting the stuff?” Gabe ventured back out of the kitchen.
“Thanks for the support there. Yeah.” Trey logged on to the computer. “Ordering now.”
Gabe leaned against the doorframe. “You think he’s greedy or cheap?”
“Who?”
“Hap.”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” If Trey could answer that, maybe he wouldn’t be here now. Hap reminded him too much of people and places he wanted to forget. He silently prayed, as his fingers flew over the keys.
Don’t ever let me be like that.
THE SOUND OF TIRES on the street outside had Lisa staring anxiously out the screen door. She’d stayed in Grandpa’s kitchen, waiting, listening, prepared to run like hell if anyone else came out of the shadows or any of the rooms.
The dispatcher had recognized her grandfather’s address and put her straight through to the sheriff himself, Sam Coleman.
Sam and her grandfather had been best friends for years. He’d offered to stay on the line with her until he got there, which thankfully only took five minutes. He’d tried to calm her by discussing the weather and odd bits of gossip.
When Sam’s tall, burly figure rose from the squad car, strong and reassuring, she let out the breath she’d been holding and hung up.
“Whatcha doing in here?” he growled when he saw her sitting at the kitchen table like it was dinnertime.
“Waiting for you.”
“You don’t think someone else is here?”
“Nope. They’d have come out by now,” she rationalized, ignoring the glare he sent her.
“Well, stay put.” He pointed at the chair, then reconsidered. “Better yet, go sit in my squad car.” He re-aimed his index finger at the door. “Lock the car until I come back out.”
“I’m fine right here.” The person who’d run had been in Grandpa’s house for a reason, and she wanted to know who they were and what they’d been after.
Sam just turned on his booted heel and started looking through the house. She could keep track of him by the sound of his footsteps and the echo of doors and cupboards opening and closing.