Cole pulled open the door, jangling the welcoming cowbell, and she preceded him inside. The restaurant hadn’t changed in the past twelve years. The same red-checkered cloths still covered the tables. The old, planked bar still dominated the room, flanked by square wooden stools. Cattle brands and horseshoes decorated the walls, along with photos from local rodeos. The familiar scents of coffee and bacon permeated the air.
She didn’t know how many hours she’d spent here in high school, hanging around with Cole. But it brought back a rush of longing, a poignant reminder of the hopes she’d left behind.
A reminder she definitely didn’t need right now. She was trying to gain some distance from Cole, not remember the good times they’d shared.
The saloon-style doors to the kitchen swung open. Cole’s aunt Bonnie Gene came bustling out, her face wreathed around a smile. “Why, Bethany Moore! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” She hurried around the bar, her shoulder-length brown hair swinging, her light brown eyes shining with warmth, and Bethany couldn’t help but smile back.
“It’s about time you came back here,” Bonnie Gene scolded. “And aren’t you as gorgeous as ever!” She gave her a hard hug and turned to Cole. “Isn’t she gorgeous, Cole?”
Bethany’s face burned. She braved a look at Cole. His eyes met hers, and a sudden sizzle of awareness stopped her breath. So he still felt it, too.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice gruff. “She’s gorgeous.”
Her heart skittering, she jerked her gaze away.
“Sit right here.” Bonnie Gene ushered her onto a stool. She pulled another seat close and pushed Cole into it, maneuvering him faster than a border collie herding cows. “Coffee?” she asked Bethany.
Still struggling to regain her composure, Bethany managed to nod. “Sure, I—”
“Don’t you dare move. I’ll get Donald and be right back.”
Bonnie Gene rushed off. Cole’s thigh bumped hers, putting Bethany’s nerves on further alert. “I see she hasn’t changed,” she said in the suddenly awkward silence.
“Yeah. Sorry about that.” He rose, dragged his stool a foot away, and she battled back a sliver of hurt. But he was right to put some space between them. Bonnie Gene was a notorious matchmaker—and the last thing Bethany wanted was to encourage her. This was just coffee between old friends, not the rekindling of their high-school romance.
Then the kitchen doors sprang open and Cole’s uncle came out, accompanied by Bonnie Gene. Donald had added a few pounds to his midsection over the years, but his friendly blue eyes hadn’t changed. And he still wore his short, white hair in that oddly lopsided style, which gave the renowned businessman a deceptively guileless look. “Bethany, it’s good to see you again.”
“It’s nice to be here.” She realized, with surprise, that it was true. In Chicago, she was always surrounded by strangers, an anonymity and freedom she liked. Still, there was something comforting about running into people she knew.
Bonnie Gene filled their cups with steaming coffee. “Now tell me, how is your father doing?”
“Not great,” Bethany admitted. “He’s in a lot of pain. That’s why I’m here, to fill his prescription.”
Bonnie Gene clucked. “A man his age shouldn’t be on a horse.”
“Can’t keep him off it,” Cole said, his deep voice rumbling through her nerves.
“That’s right,” Don cut in, sounding belligerent. “A man’s got a right to live his life the way he wants no matter how old he gets.”
Bethany sipped her coffee to hide a smile. Everyone knew that Bonnie Gene kept her husband on a short leash, especially when it came to his beloved cigars.
Bonnie Gene rolled her eyes at her husband and turned to Cole. “And how about Hank? How’s he doing?”
Cole made a sound of disgust. “The same. Still hiding in the house, leaving the rest of us to deal with his mess.”
Bethany stole a glance at Cole’s handsome profile, a reluctant spurt of sympathy twisting inside. She’d heard about the senator’s infidelities. His mistresses had been popping up like gophers in a hay field, dominating the tabloids for weeks. And the media was having a field day, relishing the California senator’s spectacular fall from grace—especially given the “family values” platform on which he’d built his career.
She could imagine how the scandal affected Cole. Hank had been a lousy, self-centered father from the get-go, ignoring his wife and children to pursue his political career. His absence and indifference had wounded Cole deeply, turning the neglected child into a wild and rebellious teen—until his desperate mother had sent him to Montana to live with his Uncle Don.
Donald and Bonnie Gene’s patience had subdued Cole’s anger. The rugged Montana land had given him a reason to live. Now just when Cole had put his life together, his father had come back—creating havoc Cole surely didn’t need.
“Has he told you any more about what’s going on?” Bonnie Gene asked him.
Cole shook his head, the furrow deepening between his dark brows. “I was hoping he’d said something to you.”
“You mean about La—” Bonnie Gene glanced at Bethany and clamped her hand over her lips. The men exchanged uneasy looks, and a strained silence fell over the group.
There was something they didn’t want her to know.
Bethany pretended to study her coffee, experiencing a sudden feeling of hurt—which was ridiculous. Cole had no reason to confide in her. She hadn’t been part of his life in years.
“About anything,” Cole finally said. “You heard that someone shot three of my cows?”
“Shot them?” Bethany snapped her gaze to Cole. “Are you serious?”
He nodded, his grim gaze shifting to hers. “I found them by Honey Creek.”
Bethany’s heart tripped. Another wave of sympathy surged inside. That ranch meant everything to Cole. He’d slaved for years to buy it with Dylan, working with a single-minded intensity, sacrificing everything for the land—even his relationship with her.
His uncle leaned on the counter. “You called the sheriff?”
“Yeah. Wes Colton came out to look, but there wasn’t much for him to go on. I doubt it’s a coincidence, though. All this trouble started when my father showed up. That’s why I was hoping he’d talked to you.”
Donald’s face flushed. “No, he hasn’t called me.”
Bonnie Gene turned to her husband and frowned. “Then why haven’t you called him?”
“Why should I?”
“He’s your brother, your family. And he needs you, no matter what he did in the past.”
Cole grunted. “Family or not, I wish he’d go hide somewhere else. Bad enough I’ve got the paparazzi tramping through my fields, leaving the gates unlocked. Now I’ve got someone killing my cows.”
“That’s not Hank’s fault.” Bonnie Gene topped off Bethany’s coffee. “Not that he’s a saint—not by a long shot. What he did to your mother and you kids …” She pursed her lips in distaste. “He deserves to be horsewhipped for that. But no one is all good or all bad, not even Hank.”
She turned to her frowning husband. “And you need to forget your blasted pride for once and talk to him. He’s your brother, for Pete’s sake. He needs your help.”
Donald’s