Last Chance Rebel (4 page)

* * *

G
AGE
HAD
BEEN
going over paperwork for hours. The text on the page was starting to wiggle, numbers beginning to reverse themselves. He was not a paperwork guy. He had a brilliant understanding of numbers and how investments worked. It was the reason he had any money to call his own. And he had quite a lot of it.

But, having a good head for business often meant knowing exactly which tasks you needed to farm out to other people. And that was another area he was expert in.

He had people to take care of the actual act of investing, people who managed his finances. Meanwhile, he continued to work with his hands whenever he could. Most people who had come into contact with him over the past few years probably imagined that he was destitute. And, he couldn't really blame them. He tended to live in motels; he traveled from place to place; his truck wasn't anything to write home about.

Of course, he'd owned this property on the lake for years. But no one knew that. He bought everything through a shell company and had his attorney handle all of his business. Finding caretakers for the place and everything else. He bought the house about a decade ago but had never actually lived in it.

It was the kind of place his father would find far beneath West family standards, but to Gage it was much better than the places he'd been staying while on the road.

It was rustic, but spacious. The property had a couple of outbuildings on it, including a barn that was housing horses for an older couple who weren't in town half the year. His caretaker had taken care of them while he'd been gone, but he wouldn't mind a chance to handle horses while he was in town.

Of all the things he'd done while he'd been wandering the country, rodeo and ranch work had been his favorite. And staying mobile had been a great way to keep ahead of his demons.

He wasn't entirely certain what had prompted him to buy a place in Copper Ridge. Only that some part of him wanted to own a piece of it. Wanted to have a foot in it.

It was a difficult place to let go of, even when you were desperate to do it. But, it was all working out now. In that way that shit shows could work out. Which was definitely what this was.

He pushed his fingers through his hair and walked over to the kitchen window, looking out at the lake, barely able to glimpse Rebecca Bear's house where it was nestled in the trees across the water.

He could totally understand why she felt like she was being stalked. In some ways, he kind of was stalking her. In order to get her to stop being so pigheaded and take the store. He supposed he could sign it over to her, and then there wouldn't be much she could do about it. Except maybe refuse to sign her part of the deed. And then shoot him in the face.

His doorbell rang, and he could not for the life of him figure out who it might be. Maybe a neighbor with cookies. A neighbor who had no idea who he was. Because it sure as hell wasn't a member of his family, or anyone else who had a clue that he was the disgraced Gage West.

His father had done a damn good job covering up what had happened the night of Rebecca's accident. Nobody knew that he had been racing some friends on a back road and hit a car carrying a woman and her daughter. But, they did know that he had abandoned his family. They knew that he had left his fragile mother and a father who was endlessly generous to the community.

Gage West was nobody's favorite. And he knew it.

He crossed the kitchen, heading into the entryway, jerking the door open without bothering to look out the window and see who was standing there.

When he saw his dark-haired, petite visitor, he felt like he'd been kicked in the chest by a bull. “What are you doing here?”

Rebecca frowned. “I thought you might like to see what it's like to have somebody show up uninvited at your place.”

“I'm not nearly as disturbed by it as you were. But, I am curious.”

“I don't want to owe you,” she said.

“Okay.”

“I see you have a working ranch here.”

“Nothing major. Just a few horses.”

“Well, someone has to take care of them. Someone has to ride them. And there are bound to be other things that can be done around the property.”

“Are you offering to do manual labor in exchange for the multiple thousands of dollars that I gave you?” He was being an ass now, and he knew it. But then, he was often an ass, so he didn't see why he should change it now.

“I know, it's barely going to put a dent in it. But I'm going to do my best to work off my debt to you. And then, I will damn well buy that building from you. But I'm not going to owe you. The way I see it is this—I'm going to work, you're going to knock some numbers off of the debt. And then, when all is said and done, whatever else I owe you can put into the cost of the building.”

He rocked back on his heels. “That isn't quite how I saw it going.”

“Too bad. I don't know what you expected to come back and find. I imagine you pictured some broken, fragile girl who was just going to get on her knees and weep at your unexpected charity. But that isn't me. I'm not a crier. I'm a worker. And my life is my own. So, at the end of the day, I don't want to owe you a damn thing, Gage West. At the end of this, we part ways, and neither of us owes the other a thing.”

He stared at her for a moment, his stomach twisting. This angry, strong woman, who was completely different than what he had imagined she might be, was offering him absolution in a way he had never considered.

Ultimately, he imagined that he was beyond forgiveness. And he stood by that. But she was right. This clean break could mean neither of them would owe anything to the other—it was the only way they could fully extricate themselves from each other's lives.

He had never met her before. Not before this week. And yet, Rebecca Bear was the person who had affected his life more than any other. The reason he had made almost every choice he made in the past seventeen years.

And he could see that he was tied up in hers too.

So this could be the end. This could be the clean break. He would be a fool not to take it.

“You've got yourself a deal, Rebecca. I'm going to be here for as long as it takes. And in that time you can work on my ranch and assist me with other things that might come up as I organize my father's assets. Then in the end, we'll draw up an agreement for the building, and I'll sell it to you, and we will filter all payments through a bank.”

He stuck out his hand, and she just looked at it as though it were a snake. He watched as she curled her fingers into fists, but she did not lift her hand. He let his own drop back to his side.

She tilted her chin up, her dark eyes glittering. “Then, it's a deal.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“Y
OU
AGREED
TO
WHAT
?”

Rebecca rolled her eyes and shifted the phone so that she could hold it between her ear and shoulder while she finished spreading jam on a piece of toast. “Calm down, Lane. If I wanted hysterics, I would have told Jonathan.”

The idea of talking to her brother about Gage being back in town—living near her—and enlisting her services to help on his little ranch spread made her cringe. Well, especially because she had enlisted herself, not the other way around.

“I'm not being hysterical, but I am questioning your sanity. This guy rolls back into your life...”

“He did not
roll back into my life
. That implies that he was part of my life prior to leaving town. He wasn't. We ran into each other once or twice. Literally, in the most notable case.”

“That's not funny,” Lane said.

“It's actually hilarious. Don't police my humor. But, it's a whole big complicated situation, and I just wanted to let you know that I was going over to his house to do some work this morning so that in case I went missing you would know that I was finally finished off by the man who started killing me seventeen years ago.”

Lane growled. “Again, not funny.”

“Lighten up,” Rebecca said, lifting her thumb to her lips and licking a bit of errant jam from her skin. “I'm just doing what I have to.”

“Sure. But in a cagey fashion. You haven't exactly explained to me how all this works.”

She took a bite of her toast. “It just does.”

“Rebecca, I often find your unwillingness to share the details about your life slightly charming. You're kind of a little lockbox, kind of mysterious and that makes you interesting. However, in this case I'm a little bit frustrated with the fact that you are associating with this man without fully explaining everything.”

She took another bite and spoke around the bread. “I don't have time to explain this morning. I have to get to work.”

“You don't have time to do this,” Lane continued, protesting sharply in Rebecca's ear. “You barely have any time off as it is.”

“I have an overprotective older sibling, Lane. The position is filled, there's no need for you to apply.”

“Sure,” Lane said, “except you haven't told Jonathan. So, seeing as your overprotective sibling has not been informed, and is therefore not able to comment...”

“Because his comment would be vulgar at best, potentially homicidal at worst.”

“Because you're being crazy.”

Rebecca shoved the last piece of her breakfast into her mouth and grabbed her thermos full of coffee off of the counter. “I'm not being crazy. I'm making the most of a bad situation.” Claiming her business for herself, trying to regain some kind of control in this situation.

She hated being out of control. She hated being needy. After the accident she felt like she'd been existing in a period of extended victimhood. Her body hadn't done what she wanted it to do, she hadn't had any decision-making power when it had come to submitting herself to another surgery, to another excrutiating recovery.

To being cared for by other people.

And, once their mother left, Jonathan had gone into overprotective older brother mode, and even though all of his decision making came from a good place, it was still overbearing.

“Fine. We'll discuss this later. See you tonight at Ace's?”

“Maybe,” Rebecca said, shrugging her jacket on and zipping it up all the way to her throat.

“At least text me so I know you aren't dead.”

“Promise.”

She hung up the phone before heading out the door. She closed it tightly behind her, not bothering to lock it. Usually, she just kept it locked when she was home. If anyone wanted to steal her crap while she was gone, they were welcome to it.

She was more concerned about somebody assaulting her person while she was in residence.

Curling her fingers tightly around her thermos, she began to walk down her driveway. It would be much faster to drive over to Gage's place, but she wasn't exactly in a hurry to get there. Anyway, a little bit of time in her own head before she had to deal with him would be helpful.

She took a deep breath of the morning air, letting it sear her throat. Then, she took a sip of her coffee, letting out a long slow breath that turned into a cloud and drifted past her as she continued to walk quickly down her dirt driveway.

Wind rustled through the pines and the oaks, a few brown leaves fluttering down to the ground in front of her. She stepped on one, satisfied with the slight crunch that it made beneath her boot.

She found a simple kind of clarity in mornings like this. In her surroundings. It was one reason she liked living so far out of town. Too many people, too much noise and her brain ended up feeling cluttered. She had to have time to sweep it all clean again.

She looked up at the gray sky, at the pale yellow shadow of the sun trying to break through. She imagined it would all burn off around noon, treating them to a clear fall day, which was as rare as it was enjoyed by the people in this part of the world.

You had to cultivate a bit of enjoyment for gray and mist if you were going to live on the Oregon coast. Rebecca had always felt like it was part of her blood. She had been born here in Copper Ridge and had never felt the inclination to leave.

She kicked at a pile of leaves as she turned that thought over. She supposed that in some ways her life might have been easier if she had left. She wouldn't spend her time tripping over as many ghosts. But then, she supposed that all went back to control.

Why should she be the one to go? Why should she run away from her home because some teenage asshole had scarred her for life—more literally than emotionally.

Her conclusion had been that she shouldn't. And anyway, Gage had been the one to leave.

“But he's back,” she said quietly, the words floating away on another cloud of her breath.

She reached the main highway and walked on the narrow shoulder, keeping an eye out for any cars that might be driving on the road. She doubted she would see anyone. It was still pretty early and unless people lived here, they didn't really have a reason to be driving out this way.

She looked down, focusing on the white line painted onto the black asphalt, watching as one boot landed perfectly in the center, then the other, with each footstep.

She paused when she arrived at his driveway, taking another deep breath, relishing the scent of the lake, cool and damp, and the overriding sharp tang of the ocean that permeated everything, a constant reminder that it was there, even when it wasn't in view.

Yes. This was her home. The Trading Post was hers, because she was the one who had built it up from nothing. If it had really been left up to Nathan West, it would be nothing. It would be nothing but a hollow shell. She was the one who had given it life. She was the one who was entitled to it.

She would be damned if Gage got to come in and make her feel like it wasn't hers. She would be damned if she would be chased off. She had made that decision early on. Even while she endured somewhat pitying stares from the townspeople, those who remembered the circumstances surrounding her accident, and the general indifference of men that had forced her to cultivate a shell that was so hard she didn't think anyone could get through it now. Even if she wanted to let them.

Feeling fortified, she continued on down the driveway, feeling gradually less fortified the moment his house came into view.

She loved her house, and she was proud of it. It was rustic and cozy and entirely perfect for one woman who lived by herself. But his place... Well, it was something spectacular. She had rarely had occasion to see the house up close, even though it was visible across the lake from her back deck. She'd known that it was impressive, she just hadn't realized quite how much.

It was one of those fancy, two-story cabins with logs that shone like honey and a green tin roof that pitched at sharp angles, following the expansive sprawl of the house itself. There were large windows at the front that reflected the scene around her, and herself, in their shining surfaces.

She looked determinedly at the door, and not at the reflection of herself. The reflection that looked very small and ineffective in the vast open surroundings.

She was
not
ineffective. She was a warrior.

She repeated that mentally with her every step up the front porch and to the door. Then, she knocked sharply, twice, before wrapping both hands back around her thermos. Clinging to it as though it might offer some source of power. Her own little caffeinated talisman.

She waited. And then, at a certain point, she decided that he was making her wait. That made her grit her teeth in frustration. As if all of this wasn't irritating enough, the man was playing power games with her.

Too bad for him, that kind of thing didn't work on her. She had lived through hell. Nothing scared her anymore. Least of all monsters under the bed, in the closet or in the spectacular log cabin.

Just when she was about to knock again, the door swung open and her heart, stomach and every other organ in her torso plummeted down toward her toes, leaving her hollowed out and breathless. He was...well, he was shirtless.

And while she considered herself impossible to intimidate, she was, apparently, easy enough to shock.

She swallowed hard, doing her very best not to stare at that broad expanse of bare chest. At the dark hair that covered his well-defined muscles, thinning out as it reached his incredibly cut abs.

He was wearing jeans that were disconcertingly low, revealing chiseled lines that acted as an arrow, directing the feminine gaze down to the rather prominent bulge at the apex of his well-muscled thighs.

She imagined that this moment, this moment that seemed horrifically extended, was actually over quickly. That she wasn't really standing there gaping at his body for a recognizable or measurable portion of time. She imagined that in actuality things were just moving slow on a scale of relativity at the moment. At least, she hoped so, because if not, she had just made a complete and total ass of herself.

Still, she found herself looking at that perfect body again. All hard lines and gorgeous skin and...not one single scar.

Unlike her own skin. Which was a guide to every injury, every surgery...

How was it fair that he looked like this and she looked like she did?

She forced her gaze up to his face and found it no less disturbing. Monsters, she decided, should be hideous. They should not be lean, finely honed examples of masculine perfection complete with an utterly offensive yet compelling tattoo on an equally compelling forearm.

They should not have sharp, hot blue eyes and curved sensual lips that put a woman in the kind of mind that began to wonder about how they might feel beneath her own.

But it occurred to her then, that maybe that was what made a monster like him so terrifying. He wasn't repellent. He was the embodiment of all of her nightmares, and she should hate looking at him. But she didn't.

Yeah, she wasn't easy to scare. But that was damn scary.

“You took all that time to answer the door and you couldn't find a shirt?” she asked, keeping her tone as hard and arid as possible.

“I took the time to find pants.”

“Allow me to thank you formally. Are you... Heading out soon?”

“No,” he said, offering no explanation beyond that.

“I thought that I was handling your ranch stuff because you were busy.”

“I am. But this morning I'm concerning myself with my own personal business, and that is all work that I can do in my home office.”

“Okay,” she said, feeling a little bit like she'd been punched in the head. “I can figure out all the stuff out here.” She waved her hand somewhat wildly, as if he needed the gesture to understand that she meant all of the tasks spread about across the property.

“Don't be ridiculous, I'll show you around. But I do need a shirt before I go outside.” He turned away from her slightly, then back. “Come in?”

“I'm good,” she said resolutely. She pressed her weight more firmly down toward the soles of her feet, completely determined to stay right where she was standing.

He said nothing. Instead, he turned away, closing the door behind him, leaving her standing there alone.

What exactly had she gotten herself into? Maybe she was crazy. Maybe Lane was right.

No. You're reclaiming. It's important. Essential.

Yes, it was. Protecting the part of the world that she had carved out for herself was the most important thing. Her home, her shop. And dammit all, her pride. She hated that she had accepted handouts from him without knowing it. She just needed to... Well, much like she needed to wipe her brain clean at the end of the day, she felt like she needed to wipe the slate too. Or she would never be free of it.

It would loom. And so would he. The monster she would never be able to vanquish.

She was here. She was vanquishing.

The door opened again, and this time, thankfully, he was wearing a tight black T-shirt and a black coat. “All right,” he said, “come this way.”

She followed him down the steps, down along a dirt road that led around back of the house. She wasn't really sure if she was supposed to make conversation with him. Then, she decided she really shouldn't care what she was supposed to do. There wasn't a protocol for the situation. And it wasn't on her to make him comfortable.

Of course, it would be nice if she could make herself comfortable, but that might be a step too ambitious.

“The horses are down this way,” he said, gesturing toward a stable that was clearly visible. “If you wouldn't mind feeding them and taking care of the stalls, that would be helpful.”