cold sweat, toss back a glass of water, and get out of bed.
I wish I could start the day living a boring normal Wisconsin life. Not this lethal nightmare.
But it’s not a horrific dream.
It’s as real as can be, and this is a world where wishes rarely come true.
This is a life where I traded my faith in wishing to keep my sanity.
I stare at the blackened match for a few more seconds and shrug. We’re not totally beaten yet.
My credit cards aren’t quite maxed out, and I have enough to put us up in some cheap motel for a little while. So onward we go.
Walking out of the bathroom, I also wish I’d drank my coffee before calling Noelle. It’s sure to be cold now.
Lukewarm coffee has nothing on my insides when I reach the end of the hall and spot the man who’s just walked through the door.
He’s tall. Bald. A human brick in neutral colors. A mosaic of shapes runs up one side of his face, more like a sinister mask than a tattoo.
I’ve never seen him before, but my instincts tell me he’s more bad news—what else?—even before his eyes lock on Dad and he’s heading for our table.
It. Can’t. Be.
I shoot around the end of the bar, and in my hurry to get to my father, I bump into the tall glum man dressed in business attire who’s on his feet and making his way toward the bathrooms.
“Sorry!” I say and continue rushing toward the table.
Baldy has already arrived, though, and I can hear him snarling behind a nasty smirk.
“Never thought I’d find your ass in this storm. You finally ready to talk sense, old man, or what?”
2
No Dull Moment (Ridge)
“Man, if I know one thing about you—and I’ve learned all I need to know about Ridge Barnet for this lifetime—you’re full of shit. This place is perfect.” Grady gives me the evil eye, picking up another glass from the washer behind the bar to towel dry.
I smile, throwing an arm around Tobin’s shoulders. He’s sitting on the stool next to me.
His eyes flick to my hand like he’s ready to tear it off. How he’s spent his life by my side, a glorified babysitter trying to save me from myself, I’ll never know.
Poor bastard.
He’s in his fifties now. He must’ve loved the few years I was in the military with Uncle Sam playing chaperone instead.
Probably the only time he’s relaxed in his entire life. If only it’d convinced him I can look after my own sorry ass, but I keep him around because I know what a struggle it is for valets his age to find new work.
My ma hired him originally, then made him my personal valet when I got older. Mainly because at fifteen, a kid’s old enough to avoid lighting the house on fire, but too stupid to avoid speeding tickets and hangovers from contraband booze—hopefully not at the same time.
“I’m right, aren’t I, Tobin? Back me up,” I say, pulling him into the conversation with Grady, who’s hell-bent on insisting we do a film here in town.
He’s too proud of fixing this place up. Ever since he took over the Purple Bobcat from Wylie last fall, I think the bar’s right up there with his kids in the pride and joy department.
“Tobin,” I grunt, nudging him again.
“Do we really need to have this debate? Perhaps it’s time we go,” Tobin answers, tugging down the cuffs of his white dress shirt and flicking my arm away. “It’s still snowing, Ridge. The driveway will be drifted over by now, and if it’s not plowed out by morning—”
“I’m not ready to go home to an empty house, where I’m sure we’ll be snowed in for days. We have four-wheel drive for a reason,” I tell him, taking another pull off my beer. “Lighten up and tell Grady here that Westerns aren’t selling like they used to. You know I’m talking from experience.”
That’s the excuse the producer of my last film used to explain why the movie was a dud.
Hardly true.
The script sucked, the creative team bungled the plot, and the conflict was all too predictable. They turned my glorious redeemed outlaw flick into a piss-poor shoot ’em up with a flimsy romance so bad I think any Harlequin author would jump at the chance to slap them upside the head.
Nothing like the stuff real Western fans want.
They like action. Mystery. Good guys and bad guys and heroines who sass off and give a