Summer Days (2 page)

“Everyone’s luck goes bad eventually.”

Dante chuckled. “Your mother loves the town.”

“My mother also believes there are space aliens in Area 51.”

“That’s why I like her so much. Did I tell you signing documents without reading them would get you into trouble? Did you listen?”

Rafe tightened his grip on the phone. “This is you helping?”

“In my own way. I’ll call the local police and have…” There was the sound of rustling papers.
“…Glen Simpson picked up. He’ll be in custody before I hit town. I should be there by six. Between now and then, don’t do anything I’ll regret.”

Not a promise Rafe was willing to make, he thought as he hung up. He turned, only to find his mother rushing toward him.

“Rafe! You’re not arresting Glen.”

The old guy looked less charming and more pale. As Rafe watched, he swallowed and started backing toward the house.

“Mom, this guy took money from you by making you think you were buying a ranch. He doesn’t own the ranch, so he stole your money and he has no way to pay it back.”

May’s mouth twisted. “If you’re going to make it sound like that—”

He cut her off. “It is like that.”

“I don’t understand why you have to be this way.”

He glanced back at the house, expecting to see Glen slinking inside. But the old guy had only made it as far as the porch. Maybe he was going to try and bluff his way out. Rafe didn’t mind a good fight, but he preferred a more formidable opponent.

His gaze moved from the building to the yard. There were flowers—different from the ones his mother had planted, but just as colorful. A big sign offered goat milk, goat cheese and goat manure for sale. He fleetingly hoped they were kept in separate containers and on different parts of the property.

Speaking of goats, he could see a couple beyond the fence by the house. There was a big horse by the barn. No steers, he thought, remembering having to deal with them when he was a kid.

There had been good times here, he admitted to himself. Moments when he’d had fun with his brothers and sister. While his father had taught him and Shane to ride, Rafe had been the one to teach Clay and later Evangeline. Rafe had stepped into his father’s shoes after the man had died. Or he’d tried—after all, he’d been only eight. He could still remember how long it had taken to realize his daddy was never coming home again and that it was now all up to him.

The woman—Heidi—jogged up to the house, the goat trotting at her side like a well-trained dog.

“Glen, are you all right?” she asked, slightly out of breath. “What’s going on?”

“It’s going to be fine,” Glen told her, looking calm for a man about to go to jail.

“It’s not fine,” May said firmly. “My son is being difficult.”

“Not much of a surprise,” Heidi muttered, turning to him. “I know you’re angry, but we can come to terms. If you’d just listen and be reasonable.”

“Good luck,” May said with a sigh. “Rafe doesn’t believe in being reasonable.”

He shrugged. “Everyone has a flaw.”

“You think this is funny?” Heidi demanded, her green eyes snapping with outrage and fear. “We’re talking about my family.”

“And mine.”

A car pulled in behind his. Rafe saw the city seal for Fool’s Gold and a sign, Fool’s Gold Police.

A woman in her forties got out. She wore a uniform and sunglasses. The name tag read Police Chief Barns. Rafe was impressed. Dante hadn’t just made calls, he’d gone to the top.

Still clutching the goat, Heidi moved toward the woman. Heidi smiled, although her lips trembled, and despite his annoyance at her and the situation, he acknowledged she looked as innocent as a milkmaid. He glanced at the goat. Make that a goat maid.

“Police Chief Barns, I’m Heidi Simpson.”

“I know who you are.” The police chief pulled a smartphone out of her pocket and scrolled through the screen. “I’m looking for Rafe Stryker.”

“That’s me.” Rafe moved toward her. “Thank you for coming out here personally.”

“Your lawyer insisted.” The police chief didn’t sound pleased about the fact. “So, what’s going on?”

“Glen Simpson claimed to be selling the Castle Ranch to my mother for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. He took her money and gave her fraudulent documents to sign. He doesn’t have ownership of the land, never opened escrow and has spent the money. Despite his claims of wanting to work things out, he has no way of paying her back.”

May made a soft, distressed sound in the back of her throat. “My son is clear on the facts, but he’s leaving out an important point.”

“Which is?” Chief Barns asked.

“That there’s no need for this to involve you and the law.”

“I’d like to agree with you, ma’am, but your son here has filed an official complaint. I don’t suppose you can tell me that he has no legal claim on any of this? Am I getting my hopes up here for nothing?”

“I signed the documents, as well,” Rafe told her. Which was his own damn fault. “My mother may believe in Mr. Simpson’s innate goodness, but I do not.”

“He’s not a bad man,” Heidi insisted.

The police chief turned to Glen. “You have anything to say about this?”

Glen looked up at the sky for a moment and back at Chief Barns. “Nope.”

“Then I’m going to have to take you in.”

“You can’t.” Heidi physically moved between the chief and her grandfather, the goat still at her side. “Please don’t. My grandfather isn’t a young man. It’s jail. He could die in there.”

“It’s not Alcatraz,” Rafe told her. “It’s a city jail in a small town. Not exactly hard time.”

“You know this from personal experience?” Heidi asked.

“No.”

“Then stay out of it.” Heidi’s eyes filled with tears as she returned her attention to the police chief. “There has to be something you can do.”

“You’ll need to talk to the judge,” Chief Barns said, her voice surprisingly kind. “Your friend here is right. It’s not a bad jail. He’ll be fine.”

“I’m not her friend.”

“He’s not my friend.”

Heidi and Rafe looked at each other.

“Can I kick him?” Heidi asked the police chief. “Just once, but really hard?”

“Maybe later.”

Rafe knew better than to protest. The way the two women were glaring at him, getting off with a single kick would be a light sentence.

He wanted to point out that he hadn’t done anything wrong here, that Glen was the bad guy. But this wasn’t a time for logic. He knew his mother well enough to guess that, and he doubted Heidi was all that much different.

Glen didn’t put up a fight. He was quickly handcuffed and put in the back of the car.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Heidi said. “To bail you out.”

“We won’t be able to set bail until the morning,” Chief Barns told her. “But you’re welcome to visit. Don’t worry. He’ll be fine.”

The chief got in her car and drove away. Heidi led the goat away, and May turned on her son.

“How could you arrest him?”

Rafe thought about pointing out that he hadn’t arrested Glen—he’d only arranged to have it done. A detail she wouldn’t appreciate.

“He stole from you, Mom. You lost this ranch once. I’m not going to watch you lose it again.”

Her anger visibly faded. “Oh, Rafe. You’ve always been so good to me. But I can take care of myself.”

“You just got swindled out of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

May crossed to him. “If you’re going to bring that up.”

He put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. Despite her height, he was still a good half foot taller.

“You know you make me crazy, right?” he asked.

She hugged him back. “Yes, but I don’t do it on purpose.”

“I know.”

She looked up at him. “Now what?”

“Now we get your ranch.”

CHAPTER TWO

H
EIDI
STOOD
IN
THE
MIDDLE
of Fool’s Gold, not sure what to do first. Glen needed her help, and she needed a lawyer. Not that she had any money to pay one, but that was a problem for another time. Right now, the pressing issue was getting her grandfather out of jail.

She turned in a slow circle, seeing the sign for Morgan’s Books and the Starbucks where she hung out with her friends. There was Jo’s Bar, but no large banner proclaiming “excellent and free legal advice here!”

Pulling out her phone, she scrolled until she found Charlie’s number, then sent a quick text:
Urgent. Can we talk?

Seconds later, came the reply:
Sure. At the station.

“The station” being the city fire station. Heidi left her truck where it was and walked the short three blocks to the firehouse.

The firehouse was in the oldest part of town. It was a two-story brick-and-wood structure with big garage doors facing the street. They stood open in the warm April afternoon. Charlie Dixon was waiting by the red fire engine she drove.

“What’s up?” she asked as Heidi hurried forward.

“There’s a problem with Glen.”

Charlie, a tall, competent woman who had never met a man she couldn’t beat at anything, put her strong hands on her narrow hips and raised her eyebrows.

“He’s your grandfather. How much trouble could he be in?”

“You have no idea.”

Heidi quickly brought her friend up to date on Glen, the perky widow he’d swindled, the mysterious and ruthless Rafe Stryker, and the fact that Glen was now sitting in the Fool’s Gold jail.

Charlie swore. “It’s so like a man to make all this mess,” she grumbled. “Glen seriously sold someone your ranch?”

Heidi sighed. “There was paperwork and everything.”

This wasn’t the first time her grandfather had flirted with the wrong side of the law, but generally he kept his scams smaller and avoided the felony category. For the past few years, all she’d had to worry about was his propensity to have a woman in every city. For a guy in his seventies, he got a lot of action.

“I need to get him out of there,” Heidi said. “He’s the only family I have.”

“I know. Okay, stay calm. I mean that. Fool’s Gold jail isn’t exactly grim. He’ll be fine there. As to getting him out—” She looked at Heidi. “Don’t take this wrong, but do you have any money?”

Heidi winced as she thought about the sad little balance in her checking account. “I’ve put everything I have into my goats.”

“There’s a mortgage on the ranch?”

“A big one.”

Charlie gave her a quick hug. “Living the American dream.”

“I was,” Heidi told her, appreciating the physical support. “Until this happened.”

She didn’t mind making the monthly payments to the bank. They were a sign of stability, proof she had a home, something she would one day own outright.

“I know a lawyer,” Charlie said. “She takes on pro bono cases from time to time. Let me call and talk to her, then I’ll send you over.”

“You think she’ll help me?”

Charlie grinned. “She adores me. I used to date her son. When we broke up, he got involved with some bimbo, got her pregnant and had to get married. While he’s wildly in love with his new bride and family, Trisha thinks of me as the one who got away.”

Charlie was the least feminine woman Heidi knew. She wore her hair short, dressed for comfort rather than fashion and would deck anyone who came at her with mascara. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t attractive, in a low-maintenance kind of way. Heidi had seen guys around town watching Charlie. As if they suspected she was the kind of woman who was hard to tame, but once loyal, would be a wild ride for life.

“His loss,” Heidi told her.

“You’re a good friend.”

“So are you. I didn’t know who else to talk to about Glen.”

She had other friends, but she’d known instinctively that Charlie would cut to the heart of the problem, help sort it out and then move on without making a fuss.

“We’ll get this fixed.”

Heidi hung on to that promise. Her parents had died when she was a toddler. She didn’t remember them. Glen had stepped in to raise her. From that moment on, they’d been a team. No matter what he’d done, Heidi would stand by her grandfather. Even if that meant taking on the likes of Rafe Stryker.

* * *

A
CCORDING
TO
C
HARLIE
, T
RISHA
Wynn should be in her sixties, but she looked forty and dressed as if she were twenty-five. Her dress—a pink-and-gold wrap with a plunging neckline—clung to impressive curves. Her heels were high, her makeup heavy and her earrings jangled.

“Any friend of Charlie’s,” Trisha said by way of greeting, waving Heidi into her small but comfortable office. “So Glen got himself into some trouble. I can’t say I’m surprised.”

Heidi sank into the comfortable leather visitor’s chair. “You know my grandfather?”

Trisha winked. “We had a long weekend together last fall up at the resort. A suite with a fireplace, plenty of room service. I generally avoid older men, but for Glen I made an exception. It was worth it.”

Heidi did her best to smile and nod, when she
really wanted to stick her fingers into her ears and start humming. She never wanted to hear the details about her grandfather’s personal life, and right now it was especially unwelcome.

“Yes, well, I’m glad you were, ah, pleased,” she began.

Trisha’s smile widened. “That’s one way to describe it. So, what has Glen done now?”

For the second time in an hour, Heidi explained about Glen, May Stryker and her son. Trisha listened, taking notes as Heidi spoke.

“You don’t have the money to pay May back.”

Trisha made a statement rather than asking a question, but Heidi answered it, anyway. “I don’t have any money, to speak of. I have twenty-five hundred dollars in my savings account, and that’s it.”

Trisha flinched. “Word to the wise. Don’t ever tell a lawyer that.”

“Oh. Charlie said—well, implied—that you might take this on pro bono.”

Trisha steepled her bright fuchsia fingernails. “I do take on a few cases like that. Mostly because they interest me or because I’m guilted into it. My fourth husband, may he rest in peace, left me very well off. So it’s not like I need the money. Still, it’s nice to be paid.”

Heidi wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she kept her mouth shut.

Trisha leaned back in her chair. “Here are the major problems as I see them. First, taking two hundred and fifty thousand dollars isn’t something any judge is going to find amusing. We’re so far into felony territory that Glen could be put away for years. If you’re as broke as you say, paying back the money right away isn’t going to happen.”

Heidi nodded. “If I could make payments…”

“That’s going to be one part of our defense. That you want to make good on the money. Come up with a payment plan. What is it you do?”

“I raise goats. I use their milk for cheese and soap. Two of my goats are pregnant. I’ll be able to sell the kids.”

Trisha raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Just once I’d like to work with someone doing an internet start-up. But do you bring me that?” She returned her attention to Heidi. “Goats. Okay, well that ties you to the community. This Harvey guy—the source of the trouble. Get him here. The judge needs to see the reason Glen took the money. How’s Harvey doing?”

“He’s great. His cancer treatments worked, and the doctors expect him to die in his sleep in about twenty years.”

“Good. Have Harvey bring medical records.”

Trisha continued to detail their strategy. When she was done, she said, “What was the son’s name?”

“Rafe Stryker.”

Trisha typed the information into her laptop. Her perfect lips twisted. “You picked the wrong man to mess with, missy. He would scare a shark.” There was more typing, followed by a groan. “Is he good-looking?”

Heidi thought about the tall, slightly frightening stranger who wanted to destroy her world. “Yes.”

“If I were you, I’d think about getting him into bed. Sex might be the only way to win this one.”

Heidi felt her mouth drop open. She consciously closed it. “Is there a plan B?”

* * *

R
AFE
DROVE
SLOWLY
THROUGH
Fool’s Gold, his mother’s car a half block behind his. He hadn’t been in the town in years and he could easily, not to mention happily, go a lifetime without returning again.

It wasn’t that the town wasn’t attractive—if one was into pretty, small towns and local color. Storefronts were clean, sidewalks wide. Windows advertised sales and festivals. Despite the fact that it was a weekday, plenty of people were out walking around. From a business perspective, Fool’s Gold seemed to be thriving. But for him, this would always be the place he’d been trapped as a kid, taking on more than he could manage.

Everything was smaller than he remembered. Probably the perspective of being an adult, he told himself. He recognized the park where he’d met his friends on a rare afternoon away from chores and family. The road up to the school was the same, and he saw three boys on bikes riding in that direction.

He’d had a bike, he recalled. A bike one of the women in town had given to him. He’d been ten or eleven and desperate to be like his friends. But the bike was charity and his pride had battled with practicality.

He couldn’t complain—the town had been plenty kind. Every August there had been new clothes for school, new shoes and backpacks filled with the necessary supplies. On the holidays, baskets of food had appeared. At Christmas, toys had been left. His lunch at school had been free, something that had humiliated him, even though the cafeteria workers never drew attention to the fact. Once when he was walking home from school, a woman had pulled over, opened her car door and handed him a jacket. Just like that.

The jacket had been new and thick and warm. In the pockets, he’d found gloves and five dollars. Back then, it was all the money in the world. He’d been grateful and furious at the same time.

While he’d appreciated the gestures and the care, he’d hated that either had been necessary. Several nights a week, he’d been forced to lie to his mother and say he wasn’t hungry for dinner so his brothers and sister could have enough to eat. He’d gone to bed, determined to ignore the burning emptiness gnawing at him.

He’d never understood the vicious old man his mother had worked for—a man who had made sure there was plenty for himself, but not enough for a hardworking housekeeper to feed her children. The only bright spot in coming back was that, while the old caretaker’s house still stood, the place where
the old man had lived was gone.

None of which was the town’s fault, he told himself. Still, the memories were there. Things he’d tried to forget, to grow past. He was a powerful man, wealthy. He could pick up the phone and be put through to a senator or diplomat. He knew the CEOs of nearly half the Fortune 500 companies. But, driving through Fool’s Gold, he was once again the too-thin kid who’d longed to know what it would be like to feel safe and secure. To have a full belly and toys and a mother who didn’t hide worry behind a loving smile.

He turned into the courtyard in front of Ronan’s Lodge, the main hotel in town. The Gold Rush Ski Resort was too far out of town to be practical, so the lodge would do.

Ronan’s Lodge, or as the locals called it, Ronan’s Folly, had been built during the gold rush. The large, three-story building was a testament to fine craftsmanship from a time when detail work was done by hand. As a valet hurried toward his car, Rafe took in the carved double doors that led to the lobby.

Years ago, when he’d been small, he’d never imagined he would ever be able to stay in a place like this. Now he got out of his car and took the ticket the valet offered, as if he showed up at places like this every day. Which he did—but it never got old.

He collected the small leather duffel he’d packed and went back to help his mother. May was staring at the hotel and smiling.

“I remember this place,” she told him, her eyes bright with delight. “It’s so beautiful. Are we really going to stay here?”

“It’s convenient.”

“You need a little more romance in your soul.”

“Now you have a project.”

She laughed and touched his cheek. “Oh, Rafe, isn’t it wonderful to be back? Driving through town like that, I didn’t know where to look first. Don’t you love everything about this town? I’m sorry we had to leave. We were so happy here.”

He supposed in some ways they had been, but getting out of Fool’s Gold had been a goal that consumed him. Which wasn’t a conversation he was going to have with his mother, he reminded himself.

“You can be happy again, once you have your ranch,” he told her, taking her suitcase and escorting her into the hotel.

The lobby was large and three stories tall. There were carved panels on the wall and a chandelier made of imported Irish crystal. He wasn’t sure where that small fact had come from or why he’d remembered it, but there it was.

Even as May paused to press both hands to her chest and gaze around in wonder, Rafe walked to the reception desk and gave his last name.

“There should be two rooms,” he said, knowing his ever-efficient assistant would have handled things.

“Yes, Mr. Stryker. Of course. We have you and your mother each in a suite on our third floor.” The young woman in a blue suit gave him paperwork to sign, then told him about the restaurant hours and that room service was available around the clock.

He was more interested in getting a drink. Make that several. After glancing briefly toward the bar, he collected his mother and herded her toward the elevator.

“I only need a very small room,” she said as they rode to the third floor.

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out with Glen and Heidi, and then I won’t be in the hotel at all.”

He stopped in front of the first door and inserted a key card. “Mom, even when you own the ranch, do you really think you’ll want to live there? You’ll be out in the middle of nowhere.” While his mother was only in her fifties, he wasn’t sure he was comfortable with her being alone on a ranch. “The house is old and I doubt it’s been updated.” He thought about the roof and the fading paint, and felt the beginnings of a headache.