His stride slowed as they neared the office.He should walk her to the hotel.But that seemed… final.Or bold.He’d have to discuss seeing her again or not, and he wasn’t sure what outcome he wanted.But he wasn’t ready to stand across the street from the building where Cam had died.
Probably not ever.
“You paid for lunch,” he ventured, not ready to walk away.
Indecisiveness wasn’t like him.It was as if Cam stood beside him, urging to an action he wasn’t sure he wanted to take.Cam had wanted a legacy—he hadn’t thought in those terms for himself.
“You’re inviting me to dinner?”
Ah.“Yes.”He forced the word out.“We missed lunch.”He hesitated.“If you’re free.”
She shrugged.“I’m here for the weekend.I got nothing but time.And crocheting.”
“Is that like”—he racked his brain for what that was—“knitting?”Big bright balls of yarn.“The craft with big needles that feature as weapons in some murder mysteries.”
“How unimaginative of me.”She laughed.“I’ve never thought of stabbing anyone.Perhaps a it’s a new for the plot.”
Her tone.Her smile teased.“Crocheting is different, but a similar process, though I never feel violent doing it, but there’s always a first time.”
Her eyes shone like pennies, and he suddenly understood what it meant to feel captivated.
“When do you need to return to Atlanta?”
Why had he asked that question?The light dimmed in her eyes, and she looked up at the front door of his building and then left down the street.
“Vesna’s gone.Our landlord jacked up the rent since he upgraded the building so that too is gone.My job was working for a riverboat cruise line in Europe as a bartender and card dealer, which is seasonal, but… I won’t go back there.Three years was enough.This weekend was a chance for me to catch my breath.Plan my next move.”She narrow-eyed the door to his building, then shrugged, her expression pensive yet resigned.
So many contradicting thoughts jostled through his head.They were both at a crossroads.But perhaps, despite her protests, she had hoped to click with Cam and marry him, though she didn’t seem like a woman who clung to security.
“Why Montana?”she asked.
He did a sharp double take.He’d not been expecting the question.
“Cam was probably needling me.”
“Why?It’s a beautiful state, I’ve heard.You were friends, business partners.”
He rocked back on his heels.How ludicrous if he shared some of the last handful of words Cam had said to him.
“Cam thought I was too… cautious.That was not how he phrased it.”Telford scowled.“He was not wrong, but it was my role.”
She was quiet.Waiting.Not jumping in to fill the silences as Cam always had.
“I have… a… tie to Montana.One I don’t want and had planned to never tug.”
“Your stories again,” she said softly, stepping closer to him.Her hand briefly touched his forearm.“You hold them so tightly, but are they dear?”
No.What a question.He hated his past.“Definitely not a fairy tale.”
She turned toward him, away from the building he’d yet to face.
“Would it be easier for you to confront your ghosts with me, or do you prefer to joust alone?”
“So many memories,” he mused.“It feels disloyal to try to forget, but he doesn’t feel like he’s there anymore.”Telford nodded toward the building.The confession weighed heavy on his chest.“I don’t know where he is, but I hate that building.It’s sleek and elegant and empty.We never needed that space, but Cam had to have it because it was corporate headquarters for so many firms, and there were condos for sale on the top fifteen floors.‘Practical,’ he said.But it wasn’t.It was expensive and showy, and I didn’t want clients or adversaries or business partners in our space, and yet the space never felt like mine to share.”
She nodded, her gaze on the building, or maybe she was thinking of something in her own life she was walking away from.
“But to sell it and walk away makes it seem…” He couldn’t express the word.
