Whatever the reason, she was very, very grateful that he'd visited her.
They didn't speak again, and she must have dozed, because when she opened her eyes and glanced at the clock, it was nearly six-thirty. The alarm was about to buzz so she could get the twins up for school.
He was gone, having slipped out of bed and sneaked off without a goodbye. The room was so still that she couldn't detect the slightest reverberation of any energy he might have left behind.
She rubbed her hand on the pillow, but there was no residual heat from where he'd lain. She nuzzled her nose into the sheets, and she could smell his scent in the fabric or she might have wondered if she'd dreamed the entire encounter.
A hundred questions flew through her mind: Would she ever see him again? Would he vanish, only to reappear when she least expected it? What had all of it been about?
She was wildly happy and inordinately sad at the same time. A woman could never rely on a man like him, could never hope for more. He was completely solitary and not interested in binding ties, so it would be foolish to wish for him to be what he wasn't. But oh…he made her
want
as she'd never wanted before.
She stared up at the ceiling, shook her head at her folly, at her crazy behavior, then rose to face the day.
* * *
Dustin's cell phone rang.
It was a given that phones didn't work in Gold Creek, so he didn't immediately realize what the noise indicated. He'd turned it on out of habit, not believing that a call would come through.
He'd been feeling irritable and edgy, so he'd jumped in his car and driven out of the narrow canyon. He was up on a mountain pass, stopped at an isolated scenic pullout and gazing at the spectacular vista, which was probably why he had service.
He dug around in his jacket pocket and yanked it out. As he saw who it was, he scowled.
"Hello, Chantal."
"Hello."
Her voice was very clear, as if she was right next to him, but in his thoughts, she was so far away that she might have been talking to him from the moon.
After their unpleasant trip to Colorado, he hadn't contacted her again.
"I'm sorry to bother you," she tentatively said.
"You're not bothering me," he lied.
"I haven't heard from you in a few weeks…" She trailed off, providing him with an opportunity to fill in the blank, offer an explanation, but he was silent, so she continued. "Ah…when I was with you in October, you mentioned Thanksgiving."
She paused again as he frowned. He'd mentioned Thanksgiving to her? Why would he? He was no help at all, and she had to lead the conversation.
"You asked me to fly down to Puerto Vallarta with you."
He winced. "Crap. I forgot all about it."
"I've been expecting to go, so I didn't make any other plans."
Thankfully, she didn't whine or nag. She was quiet, her annoyance palpable, but unvented, for which he was grateful.
"I'm not in LA," he told her. "I'm in Colorado."
"Oh."
"I'm spending the day with my brother in Boulder."
"Oh," she repeated, and she waited for the request that she join him, but it wouldn't be forthcoming.
He still hadn't convinced himself that he'd show up at Faith's family dinner, complete with kids and dogs and the good china. But if he
did
decide to go, he wasn't about to bring Chantal. The meal would be sufficiently stressful without adding her to the hectic mix.
"Well, okay then," she mumbled when he refused to speak. "I had an invitation from an acquaintance out in Malibu. I've been putting them off, but I'll just call and accept."
"I apologize, Chantal. I feel like a total shit."
He wasn't lying. What kind of guy asked a woman to fly off to Mexico for a romantic getaway, then forgot all about it?
He blamed it all on Amy. She had him so disordered that he didn't know up from down.
"It's no big deal." She was gracious for once. "You're busy; I understand."
"We'll go when I get back to LA. I promise."
"I'll look forward to it. When might it be? I need to clear my schedule."
Thanksgiving was in three days. "I'm coming home on Sunday. So maybe we could shoot for next weekend?"
"Great. I'll arrange my calendar."
"Terrific."
There was another lengthy pause, and it was so extended he wondered if he'd lost service, but no. She was still there.
"I have to ask you about one other thing," she said.
"What's that?"
"I'm embarrassed to mention it now."
"No, go ahead."
"Your mother's secretary called me."
He scowled ferociously, as if his mother, Jacquelyn, was with him and could see how irked he was at hearing her name.
"What did she want?"
"Your mother will be in Denver in December."
"For her annual holiday party," Dustin said, just remembering it.
His mother lived in Santa Fe, but she occasionally traveled to Denver to pretend their presence in the city still mattered. Her Christmas party was the gala event of the Denver social season, but Dustin had forgotten about that, too. With all the upheaval in the past year, he hadn't supposed his mother would have the energy to host it.
"Yes," Chantal said, "she's having a holiday party. I guess she read an article in a gossip magazine…and…ah…she thought we were an
item
."
"She invited you?"
"Not yet. She was simply asking if I might be available."
He bit down on a grimace. Jacquelyn liked to spice up her gatherings by bringing in people from New York or LA who would make the guest list more thrilling for the locals—as if they were a bunch of rural hicks.
She assumed he and Chantal were a couple? She'd dared to contact Chantal and not check with him first? Next time he saw her, he would strangle her with his bare hands.
He'd already screwed up Chantal's Thanksgiving, and though he could be the ultimate jerk, he actually had some manners. Now that Jacquelyn had dangled an invitation, Dustin wouldn't rescind it.
"You can tell her
yes,"
he advised her.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Will you…be there?"
"Of course. It's a tradition."
Lucas wouldn't come, but Dustin and his sister, Brittney, would both stagger in.
Chantal hesitated, and he could sense her indecision. She was in a horridly awkward position, not confident of her status with Dustin—she didn't have a
status
with him—and not certain where she stood in relation to a Merriweather family event.
"Will we…um…" she cautiously started.
"We'll hash it out when I get to LA. We can fly to Colorado together."
She sighed with relief. "I'll let her secretary know that I'll be able to attend."
"See you soon."
"Yes, see you."
Dustin hung up so she wouldn't have a reason to continue the conversation.
He was standing at the top of the world, the highway pass at nearly twelve-thousand feet. The road below him wound down and down toward the valley that sheltered Gold Creek.
He was still trying to figure out why he was in Colorado, why he hadn't left.
The moment he'd arrived, he'd gone straight to Gold Creek, had climbed the steep stairs to Amy's attic apartment, and had sex with her. Then he'd crept out without a word.
That was four days ago. Since then, he'd been driving aimlessly, moping and staring out at the bleak scenery. He was a coward, terrified that he might have run into Amy on the sidewalk or at the downtown diner, so he wasn't even staying in Gold Creek. He'd checked into a hotel in Aspen.
If he had bumped into her, what would he say?
He didn't know what he wanted from her. He didn't think he wanted
anything
. Or maybe he'd just wanted to scratch his sexual itch, but he hadn't. He was more fixated on her than ever, but what was the point? Why was he in Colorado?
He didn't have a stinking clue.
His phone pinged, indicating that he'd received a text message. He glanced down, irked and expecting it to be Chantal again. To his surprise, it was from Lucas's fiancée, Faith Benjamin.
I know you're in Colorado,
she'd written.
You'd better come to Thxgiving dinner, or I'll have Lucas beat you up. He claims he's still big enough and bad enough.
He smiled. It was her third invitation, and he'd deleted the previous two.
This was probably why he was feeling so out-of-sorts.
He was desperately eager to have dinner with Lucas and his new family. He wanted to meet his nephew, Bryce, and his half-sister, Peanut. He'd like to imagine—even if it was for only a few hours—that he was a normal person with a regular life.
Was Faith aware of how vehemently Dustin had worked to prevent her marriage to Lucas? Had Lucas told her?
He couldn't have, or she wouldn't be so adamant about having him in her home.
He'd meant to hate Faith. He'd meant to erect a brick wall between him and her, to ignore her and pretend she didn't exist. He'd meant to act precisely how his mother would act toward her.
But why should he treat her that way? Was he prepared to miss Lucas's wedding? Would he forever fight with his brother? Could there never be any healing? Now that Lucas was starting over with Faith, wouldn't it be best for Dustin to start over with Lucas?
I'll be there around noon,
he typed in reply, and as his thumb hovered over the keypad, he suffered a mild panic attack.
He simply couldn't picture himself at Faith's house, strolling in with some flowers and a bottle of wine, and facing down her family.
The idea was alarming in a manner he couldn't explain.
I'm bringing a guest,
he added.
Is that ok?
He sent the message, then waited, waited, and received the answer,
Of course it's ok. See you Thursday!
He shook his head, worried over what he'd set in motion. Then he climbed in his SUV and drove down the mountain. The roads were icy and snow packed, and he crept along, so it took an eternity to arrive in Gold Creek. He proceeded directly to the newspaper office and parked at the curb.
Through the front window, he could see Amy. She was at the counter, helping a customer.
He went in, and as he entered, a bell jingled over the door, but she didn't notice.
"Check the spelling," she was telling the customer. "Make sure this is exactly what you want the ad to say."
Dustin watched her, feeling ridiculously happy. Eventually, she glanced up, and she flinched with surprise.
"Hello, stranger."
"Hello, yourself."
"Give me a minute." She pointed to the customer. "We're almost done."
"Take your time."
The man paid her some money, stuffed his wallet in his pocket, and left.
Dustin walked over to the counter and rested his weight on his elbows. She did the same so they were practically nose to nose. He bent in and stole a quick kiss.
"Have you seen the latest edition of the paper?" she asked.
"No."
"It only comes out on Wednesdays. I thought you might like the headline." She grabbed a copy and held it up.
Merriweather Industries Intent on Sale of Downtown
"Would you stop picking on me?"
"Why would I? It's too enjoyable. Besides, you're in the wrong. Someone needs to keep reminding you."
"And that would be you?"
"Who else?" She was brimming with mischief. "Where have you been?"
"Aspen."
"You can't just pop in and out like this. It drives me nuts."
"I know. What are you doing for Thanksgiving?"
"I'm cooking a turkey for Marge and the twins. Why? Are you wrangling for an invitation?"
"No."
"What then?"
"I want you to come to Boulder with me."
"What for?"
"To have dinner with my brother and his family."
"With you brother, Lucas?"
"Yes and his fiancée, Faith Benjamin."
"I hate him."
"You do not. Say
yes.
Say you'll come."
She frowned. "I don't even know them."
"Neither do I."
She studied him, and her shrewd assessment making him squirm.
"Why are you asking me?" she said.
"I don't have any idea."
"I can't leave my sisters here."
"Bring them. Bring Marge."
"The more the merrier?"
"Something like that."