Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“A smidge,” I agreed, tone coolly amicable. “Eighty-three in a fifty-five. Watched you blow right by a speed limit sign, so I reckon that’s not a shock.”
“Not entirely.” The guy was just this side of sarcastic. “May I hand you my ID, Officer?”
“Slowly. Hands where I can see them. And go ahead and take those sunglasses off.”
As I’d ordered, he moved deliberately, hands out in front as he plucked his sunglasses from his face and set them next to his wallet. He reached for his license next, but I no longer needed the ID. The face was older, and the voice deeper and smoother, but I’d know those pale-blue eyes anywhere. Schooling my expression, I whistled low.
“Maverick Lovelorn. Should have known you’d finally grace us with your presence.” I accepted his license anyway because I fully intended to run the sucker. Old times sake be damned.
Maverick squinted at me. “Colt?”
“Yep. See you still like to go fast,” I drawled, not inclined to let him off the hook, not after all these years.
“Oh fuck.” Shoulders slumping, he tipped his head forward. “I forgot you were a deputy.”
“Sheriff.” I gestured at my jeep behind us. “My how the years have flown.”
“I’m late to meet Faith and Dad’s lawyers at the ranch.” Maverick gave me the same sheepish smile that had worked to smooth over any number of transgressions in high school. “Faith was smart and flew in last night with her kid. I had this stupid idea that the drive would clear my head.”
“Hell of a drive.” I was long past being swayed by his smile.
“Fourteen hours.” Maverick’s attempt at a smile dimmed considerably. “Started out yesterday. Still doesn’t seem any more real that my dad’s finally gone.”
“My condolences to you and Faith.” I parroted the sort of manners my mama would want me to use.
“You sound real sorry, Colt. Go ahead. Write me the ticket. Chew me out for not coming when Dad first got sick. Let me have it for not visiting and keeping up with…folks.”
How could you forget about me so easily? The question had plagued me on and off for two decades now. If I was going to lay into him over anything, it would be how easily he’d left the town in his rearview, smoking his speed demon tires on the way out of the state. But revealing the old hurt would give him far too much power.
“Nah.” I handed him back the license. “Don’t speed in my county again.”
“Thanks.” He blew out a long breath, fine lines around his eyes and mouth revealing his exhaustion. “I am sorry. For everything. I wasn’t the son he wanted. I wasn’t the friend you deserved.”
“We were young.” I waved a hand, not eager to go down this path of regrets. “And as for your dad, I am sorry for your loss, even if you and Faith lost him a long time ago.”
“Yeah. He was a bitter bastard right up until the end.” Maverick’s gaze swept over the rugged landscape on either side of us. “Wonder how many around here will miss him. The man had a whole damn town and still couldn’t be happy.”
The same could have been said for Maverick, who was as much a Lovelorn as his father and all his relations, back to the first homesteaders in the 1870s. They’d founded the town, and the ranch had long been the largest taxpayer in the county. In addition to cattle and crops, the ranch had a world-class reputation for breeding and raising quarter horses. And now Maverick and his sister were the last of the Lovelorns, and the two of them hadn’t been able to leave the county fast enough. And for all that their father had been a cantankerous soul, he’d had a strong moral compass. He’d begrudged the hell out of the responsibility, but he’d ultimately done right by the town and his ranch.
I doubted Maverick could be trusted to do the same.
“What happens now?” I asked, already dreading the answer. “What are you and Faith going to do with the ranch?”
“Nothing left to be done.” He shook his head mournfully. “Place is cursed. Sell the whole damn lot.”
“Sheriff?” My radio crackled with an update from Dolores. “I’ve got those plates you wanted. You’ll never guess who the vehicle is registered to.”
“Maverick Lovelorn.” I stole a little of her glee and immediately felt bad for it. “I’m finishing up here, Dolores. No ticket. I’ll be back in time for that meeting with the insurance folks.”
“See you then. Over and out.” She didn’t sound too put out by my curtness, but then, Dolores was hard to ruffle.
“So I’m free to go?” Maverick asked.
“You follow real estate, I’m sure.” I ignored his question. “You know what’s happening all over the state. Durango wants to be the next Jackson Hole, full of part-timers and hobby ranchers pricing out the locals. Aspen. Vail. Jackson Hole. All major tourist destinations for the rich and richer. No one who works there can afford to live there.”