Very true. During her high school years she’d earned a reputation for her environmentalist bent. It’d been exaggerated; she’d been called everything from a tree-hugger to a PETA-loving tool. All because she’d tried to raise awareness that everyone involved in agriculture had a responsibility to keep a balance between long-term and short-term land sustainability. She believed in it so strongly she’d made it the focus of her college studies.
“Rory?”
She glanced up at him. “Sorry. Just trying to process this.”
“I imagine it’s a surprise. The other reason I’m asking you to fill this position is I read your thesis. You’ve delved into environmental impact studies and shown you’re impartial. I need someone running this project who doesn’t have an axe to grind with the ranchers but won’t choose the recipient because their ideologies are the same.”
“I understand.”
“So what do you say? Are you willing to take on this project?”
Rory didn’t hesitate. “Yes, sir. It would be an honor.”
He thrust his hand across the desk and grinned. “This is great. You are perfect for this job. Just a quick reminder that you’re not allowed to speak specifics about this special project to anyone outside the office—without my prior approval, at least until the permit application deadline has passed. So, if you have any questions just ask, as I will be your direct supervisor.”
No more answering to Horrific Hannah? Sweet. “When do I start?”
“Monday. You’ll need a couple days to read over the information.” He hefted two six-inch binders onto his desk.
“All of that?”
He shoved the binders across the desk. “You’ve been here six months. Reading between the lines in governmental doublespeak is second nature to you now.”
His phone rang and she slipped out.
Might make her a dork, but she did a little happy dance in her office. A fulltime position. She could quit working at the Twin Pines. After all the years she’d bartended in college and grad school, she’d now have her weekends free.
She probably wouldn’t know what to do with herself.
Now you at least have the option of spending time with Dalton.
Dalton.
She’d managed to shove last night’s conversation to the back burner. Okay, after she’d stayed up half the night replaying it in her head.
What was his end game? What did he have to prove? And was he proving it to her? Or to himself?
But the part of her that’d always been crazy about him wanted to believe he’d pined for her these past few years. Okay, he hadn’t exactly said he’d pined. But he had said he’d thought about her a lot.
Why had he been so vague about the business he needed to tie up while he was here? Did he consider her unfinished business he needed to handle?
God. Why was she obsessing over this stuff like a teenage girl when she had work to do?
Rory turned one more happy circle before she settled behind her desk.
Yes, it was a good day.
Chapter Six
On his way back to Sundance, Dalton’s mom called. “Hey, Ma.”
“Dalton! I’m so happy you’re finally in our neck of the woods.”
“What’s up?”
“What are you doing tonight?”
He’d hoped to spend it with Rory, but then he remembered she worked at the Twin Pines after her regular job. “Nothing. Why?”
“Come spend the night with me. I’ll whip up a batch of chicken and dumplings. And I’ll make your favorite sour cream strudel cake.”
He groaned. “You win. I’ll swing by my place and pack a bag.”
“I can’t wait to see you, son. I really missed you. Drive safe.”
He texted Rory his plans to visit his mom; wouldn’t want her to think he was out catting around the night after he swore he’d prove to her he’d changed.
Dalton pulled up to his mom’s condo a little after five. He’d barely gotten out of his truck when she threw herself at him. He hugged her back just as strongly.
When she released him, she scrutinized his beard and whapped him on the chest. “If I hadn’t known your truck I would’ve believed some thug from a motorcycle gang was in my driveway.”
“You’ve been watching too many episodes of Sons of Anarchy.” He held her at arm’s length. Her hair was styled short, in a trendy cut, blond and brown mixed in with the gray. With no Casper stress in her life, a good portion of her worry lines were gone. She looked a decade younger now than she had a decade ago. Dalton kissed her cheek and caught a whiff of the perfume she wore on special occasions. Made him feel guilty his visit was considered a special occasion. “You look great. I might not’ve recognized you either.”
She looped her arm through his. “Come inside. I’ve got beer or coffee.”
“Coffee would be great.” He shot her a grin. “To go with the cake.”
“Which is for dessert,” she reminded him.
“My new motto is dessert first.”
“Then it’s a good thing I already cut you a slice, isn’t it?”
While his mother futzed around in the kitchen, he wandered through the living room of her condo. He’d never thought much about decorating styles growing up—the stuff in their house was just the stuff that’d always been there.
Her furniture—a couch, loveseat and recliner in vivid red—reflected the bold changes in her life. The end tables were simple and clutter-free except for the photos of her sons as boys, as teens and as young men. Now pictures of her grandsons were interspersed with those snapshots. Pictures of Brandt and Jessie. Tell and Georgia. He squinted at the last one on the shelf. How had she gotten a picture of him at the world poker tournament? And a rare one of him smiling during a poker game?
“I got that by watching the video of you online and freezing it. I made a print off the computer. I didn’t have any recent pics of you.”
Dalton faced her. “Are you gonna chew me out for—”
“No.” She placed her hand on his biceps and squeezed. “You needed to go, Dalton. I’m glad you did. And we don’t have to talk about this two minutes after you’ve walked in the door.”
“Thanks.”
“Dump your bag in the spare bedroom. You get to bunk in the room with the toys I keep around for my grandsons. Then wash up and come to the kitchen.”
He took his time checking out the remaining pictures in the hallway, surprised to see his parents’ wedding photo in the mix. Why would she keep that? But as he looked around, he didn’t see another picture of Casper McKay anywhere. Dalton wandered to the kitchen. “Smells good in here.”