“No, I don’t,” Stella said truthfully. Hell, now she was bringing Eric down. And for what—because she’d prefer a reprobate like Steel? What was wrong with her? “I’d love to come.”
“Really?” There was no mistaking the pleasure in Eric’s voice. “That’s great!”
When they’d hung up, Stella drove up the long lane, but when she reached the main road, she found herself turning her vehicle not toward town but toward the Ridley property, which bordered the Flying W. The abandoned ranch had been everyone’s focus this summer, and now it seemed inextricably linked to everything that had gone wrong—and right—this year. Was it really worth taking on a whole new project to try to win?
Soon she parked and got out of her truck. She surveyed the recent damage to the ranch. A large burnt area swept from where she stood down to Pittance Creek and beyond. Most of the structures had been reduced to rubble. The fire had been edging on Thorn Hill when it was finally put out. She’d never forget the day she and her family—and the Coopers—had battled the blaze, cutting fire break after fire break, stamping out embers as the strong winds blew them forward.
It had been terrifying. Some nights she still dreamed about it—and woke calling out for Steel, who had been bound and helpless inside one of the buildings that had eventually burned down. Only quick thinking on the part of Liam and Tory had gotten him out of there alive.
Stella shivered just thinking about it. She allowed her thoughts to stray there only at times like this, when she was alone, because every time she did, her throat ached with unshed tears. Steel could have burned alive in that fire—and she didn’t think she could have borne it.
That night, when their families had gathered together in the hospital waiting room, she’d prayed in a way she hadn’t in years. She’d bargained with God, pleaded with him to do whatever it took to bring Steel back to full health. And then he’d disappeared in the night—walked straight out of the hospital without a word to anyone.
The Coopers had accepted the situation with shrugs and sighs—their brother always came and went mysteriously. Stella had a harder time calming her fears. What if he’d breathed in too much smoke and succumbed to it with no one around to notice? For days she’d found herself imagining every possible catastrophe, until she’d caught sight of him driving through Chance Creek one night, apparently without a care in the world.
Still, sometimes her thoughts slipped back to the fire and the awful moment when they’d all realized someone was trapped in that shed, surrounded by flames. She’d known immediately it was Steel. Some thread of awareness connected her to that man even though there was no explanation for such a thing. It was as if he was a puzzle meant for her alone to solve.
What would have happened if Tory hadn’t seen the white rag he’d waved to catch their attention through the shed’s window? Could she have gone on living in a world in which Steel had died in that fire?
Of course she could, she told herself fiercely. Steel was a sick, twisted individual who hit on teenagers.
But somehow she couldn’t believe that, no matter what proof she’d seen with her own eyes.
“Stella?”
A man’s voice penetrated her thoughts.
Steel’s voice. She shivered again but this time for a completely different reason.
Steel wasn’t sure what had brought him to the scene of his near-demise. He’d thought he was a goner when he’d found himself tied up and trapped in a shed with a fire raging all around him. It had been close, that was for sure.
Too close.
An experience like that made a man question a lot of things, including his choice to live undercover on the margins of society. Sometimes he wondered what would happen when he set down the mask he’d been wearing for so long. Who would he be then?
Now he was face to face with the one woman he wanted to show his real self to, and she was looking at him like something that had gone rotten in her refrigerator. He couldn’t blame her, but God, it hurt not to be able to explain.
“Returning to the scene of the crime?” Stella asked lightly, but there was an edge to her voice that had never been there before when she’d spoken to him.
“Something like that.”
“They didn’t catch the people who set the fire—and tried to kill you,” she added.
“Nope.” He doubted they ever would, either.
“You think it’s the same person who set the fire at Runaway Lodge?”
He shook his head. “Rod Malcolm? No. I think whoever did it hopes we’ll think so, though. Last I heard, Rod was cooperating with the fire marshal. His fingerprints were all over that blaze but not this one. Sounds like he’ll pay some sort of restitution to Monica Hunt. Maybe do a little time.”
“Tory said she saw him at the lodge right before the fire started. He was mean to her in town beforehand.”
Steel nodded. “There’s old trouble between him and Dale.”
“He knew your dad?” Stella shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m surprised; everyone knows everyone around here. You know our fathers were growing a pot crop together, right?”
Steel swallowed hard. He hadn’t expected her to bring that up. “Yep.”
She surveyed him. “That’s all you’re going to say? It was supposedly right out here—same place you were growing one.”
Hell, he shouldn’t have come here. He couldn’t answer the questions she was trying to ask.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re too smart for your own good?” he said lightly.
Overhead, the sun slipped behind the clouds.
“Do you think it’s going to—” Stella laughed when the first fat drops of rain began to fall, her serious expression relaxing into something more like he remembered from when they were kids. “I guess that answers my question. After all those months of drought, the rain keeps surprising me. Sure
