“What we’re hoping to find out,” Riley said, “is if you’ve talked to Avery?”
“I’ve been sleeping in her tiny house; of course I’ve talked to her.”
“I mean about what happened? With the stealing?” Riley played with her spoon.
“I saw the episode, and it’s clear she’s mad as hell at Walker, which is fair, given how mad he was at her before he had all the information.”
“If we’re being honest,” Riley went on, “we all got mad. Really mad. I thought she was trying to make us lose Base Camp, which I realized almost immediately was ridiculous. Avery loves it here, and I know that. We all fell for Clem’s game, and I for one feel awful about it.”
“Now she’s really pissed at us,” Savannah said. “She’ll barely talk to us. She won’t help with the manor. She told Walker she won’t marry him.”
“He proposed?”
“No,” Riley hurried to say, “but she told him anyway.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“She’s not mad at you. Tell her how sorry we are. We miss her,” Savannah said.
“We love her; she’s one of our best friends.” Riley bit her lip. “You’re a good friend, too, Win—”
“I know what you mean.” Riley, Savannah, Nora and Avery had met in college. They had been inseparable before this rift occurred. “What does Nora say?”
“She misses Avery. She blames herself for leaping to judgment, and at seven months’ pregnant, she shouldn’t be worrying so much. She needs to take care of herself.”
Win understood Riley’s worry. Nora had been attacked some months ago. Her health wasn’t that strong.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’m so glad you’re back.” Riley gave her an impulsive hug. “Don’t give up on Angus; he loves you so much.”
“I won’t, but I don’t think we’re going to get a minute alone together until Leslie is gone.”
“Well, if you’re helping us,” Savannah said slowly, “I think it’s only right we help you, too.”
“What do you mean?” Win took a sip of tea, savoring its soothing flavor.
“I mean, maybe we can run interference for you once in a while.”
“That would be amazing.”
Win was heading back to the greenhouses when she met Renata on the path.
“It’s almost hot,” Renata complained, shielding her eyes. “I guess you’re used to it, coming from California, but March in Montana shouldn’t feel like this.”
“I think it’s warmer here than back home,” Win told her, lifting her hair to catch the breeze on her neck. Renata was right; it was warm today.
“I assume you caught my meaning last night,” Renata said. “About telling the story of your past?”
Win wished she hadn’t.
“This show thrives on drama,” Renata went on. “You can’t ask me to ignore it.”
“I wish you would, though. Isn’t having Leslie here drama enough?”
“Not when it’s clear Angus has eyes only for you. Those two have no spark. I would have picked a much better candidate.”
“Sounds like you didn’t have a choice.”
“No.” Renata studied her. “Fulsom can stand anything but people messing with our advertising. He caved to those women more quickly than I’d have imagined.”
“Doesn’t Fulsom have enough money piled up already?”
“You know what I’ve learned from following a billionaire around?” Renata asked. “Rich people count their change. It’s normal people who throw money around like there’s no tomorrow. And you’re not a normal person, so you should know that.”
Win thought about her parents and decided Renata was right; neither of them would pay cash for anything that could turn a profit on its own.
“Anyway, your past is at the heart of your story. You can’t convince me otherwise, so start talking to your friends about it—on camera. Or I’ll have to do it for you.”
“Got it.” But as she parted ways with Renata, she vowed to keep it to herself for as long as possible.
“It’s not very practical,” Leslie said, turning in a slow circle so Angus could take in the effect of her new Regency gown the following morning. Alice Reed had delivered it to Base Camp just after breakfast and encouraged Leslie to put it on. It was a far cry from the practical jeans and shirts Leslie had worn since arriving, and she stood awkwardly in her new clothes.
“It’s pretty,” Angus said, aware of Win working diligently not three feet from where they stood near the door of the greenhouse. He’d spent another sleepless night, part of it doing guard duty, part of it tossing and turning in his sleeping bag. Byron had snored. So had Leslie, in quieter, gentler snorts. He didn’t know if Walker was sleeping at all these nights. He sure wasn’t.
All he could do was dream about getting Win alone and having her every which way until dawn rousted them from their bed again. He was half-hard every time she came near. He’d snapped at Byron once already today.
He’d finally taken Boone aside when Leslie visited the bathroom earlier and mentioned that maybe it would be good for Win to take on some different task than greenhouse work, but Boone nixed that. “She’s always been on the garden crew. Is she bothering you? I told her to keep her distance.”
“She’s not bothering me.” It was just that he was getting hot and bothered by her proximity.
Byron was filming them, as usual. Angus figured there was nothing for it but to get to work. He moved back to the table, and a few minutes later Leslie joined them there. His hydroponics systems were working fine, so today he was helping lift little plants out of their starter pots into bigger ones. Angus concentrated on the process and tuned out Leslie. She was talking about a way to streamline things in the greenhouse, and he knew he should be listening, but the truth was she’d said more since sunrise than most people said in a week. It was all too easy to treat her words like background noise.
Win, on the other hand, was quiet, stretching every so often as
