Pulling under the gateway to the ranch, I follow the familiar road to the lodge. A few cars are in the guest parking lot, but it’s not busy like it used to be.
God, it’s been ages since I’ve been here.
I grab the large bags of food from the back of the truck and head inside.
“Hey, girl,” Joey greets me. “Is that lunch? I’m starving and Rex is still working on his new menu.”
Sam, the ranch hand, is standing behind her. I’ve seen him around town, but don’t know him that well.
“You know it.” I set the bags on top of the desk. “Is Kade around? I’m just going to let him know it was delivered.”
“I’ll take these to the dining room,” Sam says, interrupting us with a wink to Joey.
“Is that all you want to do?” She waggles her brows at me.
“Stop it.” I nudge her in the side before walking down the hall to the office. The door is cracked open, and Kade’s warm voice filters out.
“I know I only said I’d be gone for a few weeks, but I need to extend my time off.”
Time off?
I thought he was here for good.
“I don’t know. Could be a while.”
I’m only hearing his side of the conversation, so it’s hard to know what he’s discussing, but I think I get the gist.
“I’ll still be taking calls and meetings. No balls have been dropped yet. I understand. Maybe February?”
Does that mean what I think it means? That Kade won’t be here longer than a few months?
My stomach drops out at the thought of it. I don’t realize the call has ended until Kade is bumping into me in the hall.
“Presley. What are you doing here?”
“Oh, um, hi,” I stutter.
Kade is standing there in all his glory, in a tight plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Jeans stretching across his thighs. And that same damn hat that would make even the most saintly woman swoon.
“Did Betty send you up here to bring lunch?”
I nod. Suddenly my mouth is too dry to even speak.
“Do you need help bringing it in?”
“No.” I shake my head, clearing my throat. “It’s taken care of.”
“Good.” He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I appreciate you taking care of it.”
“No problem.” Passing through the lobby, I take in the space. “Looks like you’ve made some good changes in here.”
“You think so?”
I nod. “I haven’t been here in years, but it looks good.”
A fresh coat of paint—the smell thick in the air—coversthe walls. Photos of the ranch rest in shining frames. Even the wooden front desk has a new coat of varnish.
With the sun coming in through clean windows, it welcomes people to The Lost Spur.
