Page 23 of Roaring Fork Rooker (Roaring Fork Ranch #4)

ECHO

A week had passed since JW’s revelation at the park.

The lies he’d told—about his name, his past, his reasons for being in Crested Butte—felt like betrayals even as his explanations made sense.

John William Rooker, not the JW I’d known.

Patricia Wheaton’s nephew, bound by promises and secrets that predated our relationship by years.

His abandonment hadn’t been about me at all. I was collateral damage.

I’d thrown myself into work, reviewing grant applications and visiting families whose children needed our support. The routine provided a distraction from my churning thoughts about JW and what his presence in my life might mean.

I was in the office earlier than usual when Melanie knocked on my door and stepped inside, waving an envelope addressed to Miracles of Hope. “This came in yesterday’s mail. Anonymous donation. Pretty substantial.”

I pulled out the contents after she’d handed it to me, and my eyes flared. Tucked into a folded sheet of paper was a cashier’s check for fifty thousand dollars, made out to the charity. “In memory of Scarlett Blanche Wheaton,” was in the memo line.

I read the accompanying note out loud. “This donation honors a little girl who fought bravely and the mother who never stopped loving her. May it help other families find hope in their darkest hours.”

Scarlett Blanche. Patricia’s first daughter, the child who’d died of leukemia before Flynn was born. Only someone with intimate knowledge of the family would know that name and understand its significance to the charity Patricia had founded in her memory.

I suspected it was from JW, but found it curious that he would give it anonymously rather than get the recognition and gratitude if it had been done publicly. That he’d chosen to honor Scarlett’s memory quietly said a lot about his character.

“Thanks for showing this to me,” I said, putting everything back in the envelope and holding it out to Melanie.

Over the following couple of weeks, I noticed JW around town several times. One morning, he was having breakfast at McGill’s with Keltie and Holt, listening as Luna chattered about her upcoming school play. When baby Scarlett fussed, he gently bounced her while Luna showed him a drawing she’d made.

Another day, I saw him outside the grocery store with Flynn and her family. Paxon and Rooker were climbing on the wooden bear sculpture while Irish loaded bags into their SUV. JW held baby Rowan, bouncing her when she fussed.

Each sighting revealed the same thing. He’d slipped into the lives of people I cared about. The Wheaton family had embraced him as one of their own, and he fit in like he’d always been there.

When our paths crossed directly, his demeanor was always warm but respectful. A polite nod when we passed on the street. A courteous “good morning” at the post office. He never lingered, never pushed for conversation, never made me feel uncomfortable.

“Hey, Echo?” said Melanie, jarring my attention back to the case files I was reviewing.

I raised my hand, motioning for her to enter.

“Have you heard about the guy who’s staying at the Roaring Fork?”

I shook my head.

“Rumor is he’s related to the Wheatons. Anyway, I met him at the farmer’s market last weekend, and honestly, I could barely form complete sentences.

” She laughed. “He’s got long, silver-streaked hair, eyes I couldn’t stop staring into, and that body.

Not to mention he’s sweet enough to help me carry my bags to my car when he noticed me struggling with them. ”

My grip on my pen was so tight my knuckles turned white.

“Someone else said he owns a ranch in New Mexico. I wonder if he’s single.” Melanie got up and left, apparently so taken with JW’s memory that she didn’t realize I hadn’t said a word.

After she left, I sat staring out my office window. Despite my anger, despite my hurt, despite my decision to keep my distance, I wasn’t as immune to his presence as I’d wanted to believe.

The idea of JW with someone else, of him turning his attention toward another woman, set my teeth on edge.

But I had no claim on him, no right to feel possessive about a man I’d been avoiding since I ran into him at the Fourth of July parade.

Yet here I was, wanting to tell Melanie to stay the hell away from him.

Not that it had anything to do with her seeing JW at the farmer’s market, I made it a point to visit the following Saturday.

I was about to give up hope of seeing him and take my peaches home when the sound of laughter caught my attention.

When I turned to look, I spotted JW with Flynn and her family.

Paxon and Rooker raced ahead of the group, exploring the various stalls.

Irish followed with the stroller, while Flynn and JW walked together.

I watched as they stopped at the produce stand next to mine. Paxon immediately gravitated toward JW, tugging on his jacket to show him a rock he’d found. Instead of brushing off the child’s excitement, he knelt to Paxon’s level.

“That’s a perfect rock. You’ll have to show me where you found it.”

“Over there by the flowers!” Paxon pointed. “Rooker found one too, but mine’s better.”

“They’re both excellent rocks.”

When Rowan began fussing in her stroller while Flynn was paying for her purchases, JW lifted her out. She calmed against his shoulder, her tiny hand fisting in his shirt as she dozed. Still, he listened to Paxon’s and Rooker’s chatter while soothing the baby, giving each child his attention.

“Echo!” I heard Flynn call out at the same time JW looked up. Our eyes met across the market, and neither of us blinked. When he approached, still carrying Rowan, I didn’t budge.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hello.” I couldn’t take my eyes off the baby in his arms, the way she seemed content against his chest. “Rowan likes you.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” He adjusted her position. “How have you been?”

“Fine. Busy with work.” I gestured toward my bag of peaches. “The usual.”

We stood in awkward silence until he cleared his throat. “The Roaring Fork hosts a chuckwagon dinner for their guests every week. There’s food, a campfire, music…I was wondering if you’d like to come out some time.”

The invitation caught me off guard. “Oh, I, um, when’s the next one?” The question escaped before I could stop it.

“Tonight, actually. Six o’clock.” His eyebrows rose. “You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”

I should have declined. Should have thanked him politely and made some excuse. “I’d love to,” I blurted instead, before I could stop myself.

His face transformed. “Really?”

“Really.” A smile tugged at my lips.

“Would you like me to pick you up? Say at five-thirty?”

“It’s okay. I can drive out myself.”

“Sure. Of course. You know the way, right?”

I smiled again. “I’ve been to the Roaring Fork many times.”

“Good. Well, I guess I’ll see you tonight.”

“You will.”

He turned to leave, but stopped and looked over his shoulder. “I’m really looking forward to it, Echo.”

“Me too,” I whispered once he was far enough away that he wouldn’t hear me.

Just as I walked in the front door of my house, juggling groceries, my cell rang. I dropped my bags on the counter and dug it out of my purse, delighted when I saw my son’s name flash on the screen.

“Hi, sweetheart. How are you? Are you in town?”

“Hey, Mom. Just got back and have a short break before I have to head out again. There’s a reason they call this time of year Cowboy Christmas. Back-to-back-to-back events practically every weekend.”

“How’s it going?”

“Solid season so far. Our bulls are rank. That’s about all we can ask for.” That was Kingston—understated even about his successes.

“It’s wonderful to have you home, sweetheart. I hope we can get together before you’re out on the road again.”

“That’s actually why I called. There’s a dinner at the Roaring Fork tonight, and Flynn’s saying my presence is mandatory. I wish I could get into town to see you, but it isn’t looking good. Any chance you could come out this way instead?”

“I’d love to,” I said rather than admitting his was my second invitation.

I spent the rest of the afternoon nervous and second-guessing myself. I changed clothes three times, finally settling on dark jeans and a blue sweater. Not because I wanted to impress anyone, I told myself, despite the ten times I checked my makeup before leaving the house.

The drive to Roaring Fork Ranch felt both too long and too short. Part of me wanted to turn around and make excuses for missing dinner. But I’d committed to being there, and Kingston would wonder why I’d changed my mind.

The chuckwagon was set up in the meadow behind the main house, with picnic tables arranged around the cooking area and a large circle campfire already blazing.

Ranch guests—families with children, couples, friends—mingled with the Wheaton family members under the lights that were strung between the trees.

Flynn hurried over when I climbed out of my car.

“Echo! I’m so glad you came.” She pulled me into a hug. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you for having me.”

“You’re always welcome. You know that. Come on. Let me get you a drink.”

As Flynn led me toward the group, I spotted Kingston near the fire pit. He was talking with Holt, but excused himself as soon as he saw me.

“I missed you, Mom,” he said, wrapping me in a big hug.

“I missed you too, sweetheart.”

He let go and glanced around at the crowd. “Nice turnout.”

Flynn joined us with JW close behind. “Oh wonderful, Kingston, who everyone calls Bridger, is here! JW, you should meet Echo’s son. Bridger, this is JW—the family friend I was telling you about.”

“Pleasure,” JW said, extending his hand.

My son nodded. “Heard fine things.”

The dinner that followed was exactly what I’d hoped—a relaxing time with excellent food and company. During the meal, I found myself able to enjoy the conversation and atmosphere without the awkwardness I’d anticipated.