Movement in the doorway caught her attention, and her breath froze for a moment when she thought she recognized the figure ducking out. Impossible. There was no way that man could have been the same one at the hotel in Chicago. The hair prickled on the back of her neck and she got a shivery feeling. Her dad would have said someone was walking across her grave. She shivered again, doing her best to ignore the premonition.
“Daddy...” Her voice broke, and she coughed to clear the frog in her throat. Feeling a bit stronger now, she tried again. “Daddy was full of sayings, most of them taken from Louis L’Amour books.” She offered Nadine a tentative smile. “We have a whole wall of them at the house, and I grew up on their truisms. Dad also had a tendency to tell me, ‘Shoulda, coulda, woulda, honey, just opens the door to regrets. That’s the worst thing a person can do—live a life full of regrets.’”
She bit her lip and stared out the door where that mysterious figure seemed to be waiting in the shadows. “I should have been a better daughter. And I could have. Would I if circumstances had been different? I don’t know. But I do believe Daddy wouldn’t want me worrying about the past. He lived and loved life to the absolute fullest. We can honor him best by doing the same.” She glanced over at Boots and was puzzled by the look on his face. Something was going on, something he didn’t want to tell her. She’d pin him down soon.
“Thank you all for coming, for being my dad’s friends. And thank you, Nadine, for your gracious offer of Four Corners. I never did learn to cook.” She glanced down at the speckled gray-and-black box that held her father’s ashes. “Hard to believe that a man bigger than life can be reduced to a little box like that. What’s left of his body might be in there, but his spirit is riding free. Nothing could ever contain it. Not a hardscrabble life and certainly not death.”
Cass stepped away from the microphone and was immediately enveloped in a big hug from Boots. Within moments, they were surrounded by well-wishers, despite her resolve to get to the lobby area to see if her imagination was playing tricks on her. The hairs on her neck rose again, and she could have sworn someone was staring at her. As surreptitiously as she could, she scanned the room, but no one triggered the sense of her being...hunted. She shivered.
“I need to get outside, Uncle Boots.” She breathed the words out in a rush and added a few “I’m sorry, excuse me’s” in her wake. Stepping into the balmy temperature of the early spring morning didn’t quell the feeling of being stalked.
A man wearing a black Stetson caught her eye. He strode across the parking lot headed toward a massive Ford pickup. Broad shoulders tapered to a really fine pair of jeans—could it be the guy from Chicago? That wasn’t possible. No way, no how. The shiver dancing through her this time had nothing to do with fear.
* * *
Chance escaped before she recognized him. Traffic wasn’t heavy enough to curtail his thoughts, which left him wanting nothing more than a tall scotch and a cold shower. What in the world had possessed him to attend the memorial service? Who was he trying to kid? Cassidy Morgan. He was drawn to her like a honeybee to clover. Crossing paths with her in Chicago had been a fluke but now he knew where to find her.
Her face as she eulogized her father was far too reminiscent of her expression in the hotel lobby. He’d probably bumped into her right after she received the news about her father’s passing. Chance didn’t do vulnerable but this woman had an inner spark that drew him like a bull to a red cape. He wanted her, plain and simple—even if there was nothing simple about this situation.
His cell phone rang, and he punched the button on the steering wheel for the Bluetooth connection. He snarled into the hidden microphone, “What?”
“Dang, bro. Don’t be biting my head off.”