She pushed the thought aside, irritated that it had come to her in the first place. Not only had she lost her home and life as she knew it, she was losing her mind now too. Fantasizing about some brooding stranger on a horse?
No, if anything should come from the recollection of the cowboy, it should be a desire to rescue the poor horses at The Homestead. Everything may look fine and good from the outside, but chances were, when she got a closer look, Andie would find the animals were sufferingsomesort of abuse.
Her chest swelled with the sense of purpose that rushed in at the thought. She needed a cause to put her wandering mind to, and that was just the ticket. And, unlike the names they’d used all their lives and the past they were leaving behind, the insignificant stranger would be easy to ban from her brain.
She grinned, set her eyes back on the inn before her, and nodded. Her new venture would give her purpose, and the cowboy? He’d be forgotten by sunset.
Chapter 3
Talk about a group of clueless city slickers. That pampered little princess sitting up front—she looked like she’d been spoiled her whole life long. Fair, flawless skin. Wide hazel eyes, and full, pouty lips. A spot of warmth stirred low in his belly at the recollection of the moment she’d met his gaze. Trenton ignored it.
The group of twenty-somethings looked more like a pack of high-paid models than a family of investors looking to run an inn in the middle of nowhere.
Just what in tarnation was Grandpa thinking? And how many more years would Trenton have to keep asking himself that maddening question? The anger brewing hot in his chest made him restless as he trotted Trigger along the roadside.
In the back of his head, Trenton might have known where he was heading the moment he’d climbed onto the saddle. It was only now that he made it final by breaking away from the road and heading down the woodsy path leading to Wilson Kell’s place. He was probably the only man who knew the secrets Grandpa kept. Not only because they’d been friends for so long, but because Wilson was his lawyer. The man who’d helped Milt adjust his will before he died.
Sure, Wilson had been tightlipped about things the first time he pried, and Trenton hadn’t pushed much. He knew a lawyer couldn’t breach the oaths he’d taken where his job was concerned. But this went beyond legalities. This was Trenton’s life here, and he deserved some answers.
That conviction urged him on as he steered Trigger right up to the man’s front porch. A bright green snow shovel leaned against the stone-covered side of the home next to the front door. A pair of tall snow boots rested beside it. Hints of hickory wafted through the frigid air as Trenton tied Trigger up to the post and trailed up the freshly shoveled steps.
He reached up, rapped a knuckle against the door, and took a step back to survey the area. A dog barked from within the home.
“Aw, hush up, Bear,” the man grumbled from the other side of the door.
Trenton’s throat tightened. His pulse revved. He forced his next breath to come out slowly through pursed lips as the door flung open. A halfhearted bark pealed through the air but Wilson waved the dog off with the swat of his hand.
“Go on, Bear. Go on.” He set his gaze back on Trenton for a blink, then shook his head. “Hope you’re not still looking for details I can’t give you, son.” The wrinkles around the man’s eyes and mouth resembled the lines that marked Milt’s face. Of course, Wilson had fewer and they weren’t nearly so deep.
“You’ve got to give me something,” Trenton said, a new level of desperation filling his lungs. His ribcage. His blood as it raced through him in angry, pulsing waves. He reached for the one detail that would get the man’s attention. “I put my property up for sale.”
Wilson’s face went flat. His mouth shifting from ready-to-speak to hard-lined-shut. At last, a deep sigh pushed its way through his flaring nostrils. “What in the Sam hill did you do that for?”
“I told you that I wouldn’t stick around to play Milton’s little game anymore. If I can’t get so much as one hintas to what was going on in that secretive mind of his when he did this…well, I’d just as soon leave it all behind. Get a fresh start someplace else.”
“But that property, son—”
“What?” Trenton snapped. “The property should remain in the family? I’ve got news for you—there isn’t going tobea family. I’m not taking on some wife and helping raise a bunch of kids. I’ve never wanted that. And this…whatever Milt had up his sleeve with this family of strangers…I don’t have the patience for it. I just don’t.” He considered standing there a little longer, giving the aging man a pleading look that might push him over the edge at last, but suddenly Trenton couldn’t find the patience for even that.
“Thanks for nothing,” he spat instead with the shake of his head. Trenton replaced the cowboy hat as he thundered back down the porch steps and toward his horse.
A sharp door squeak rang out behind him. “Trenton, wait.”
Trenton already had one foot propped in the stirrup. He planted his hand on the opposite side of the horse and hoisted himself up before turning to see Mr. Wilson on the porch.
The man’s lips pinched together as he looked from one side of his property to the next. “Listen,” he said, pinning his pale green eyes back on Trenton. “Did your granddad ever tell you where you came from?”
Trenton shook his head as a fresh bout of irritation pushed through him. “Nope. I figured it was someplace nearby.”
“Go research Brewer, Missouri, the year you were born. Might get a few of the answers you’re looking for. That’s all I can tell you.” Wilson tore his gaze from him the second the words left his lips and hurried back to pull open the screen door. Yet just as he stepped through it, the man tipped his head back the slightest bit, meeting eyes with him once more.
“I truly am sorry. I never agreed with Milt, keeping you in the dark all this time, but he wouldn’t listen. If I’d have just been his friend and not his lawyer too, I might have just told you myself. You deserve to know about your roots.”
* * *
Andie stared at the hand-written note she’d torn off the door, baffled by the careless penmanship and unsophisticated approach.
New owners: I hear you’ll be residing at the inn as well as helping to run it. You can each pick one of the empty cabins to stay in. Do not pick any that border the river, as these are our bestsellers and must remain open to actual guests. I get that you’re part owners now, but this isnotnegotiable.
