The Rancher and the Vet. Julie Benson

      Reed hit Send and leaned back in his chair. Surely when the exemption came through he could convince Jess to see things his way, especially when staying with her grandparents was best for her. There she’d have a woman to talk to and two people who’d actually raised a child, instead of an uncle who couldn’t keep goldfish alive.

      Next Reed called Ethan, his vice president of engineering, and asked him to come to his office. He’d met Ethan fresh out of college when they’d started working as software engineers at the same company. Eventually Reed had moved to the management track while Ethan pursued the technical route. The guy was a genius in that area, and the first person Reed had hired when he started RJ Instruments.

      When Ethan arrived, Reed motioned toward the black leather couch. Then he walked across his office and settled into the wing chair to his friend’s right. He glanced up at the print of a hole at Pebble Beach on the wall behind his sofa. Below the photo were the words The harder the course, the more rewarding the triumph. He hoped that held true this time.

      “I need to update you on something that developed this morning.” Reed explained about Colt’s deployment and his leaving for Colorado.

      “What about the customer calls you’re scheduled to make next week?”

      When clients had questions or needed hand-holding, Reed picked up the phone or hopped on a plane if necessary and handled the situations. While both he and Ethan understood the technology, over the past few years Ethan had developed issues dealing with some clients, becoming frustrated when they refused to see things his way. Now he’d have to step up and take on more of those responsibilities.

      “I hope I can handle most of the issues with conference calls or on Skype. I might be able to pull off a quick day trip.” Fly out, meet with the client and rush back to Colorado. Or he and Jess could leave Friday afternoon for a meeting/vacation trip. “But if those options don’t work, you’ll have to go instead.”

      “If I have to, I guess I have to.”

      “I can still run the weekly status meeting as usual via Skype. Between the two of us, we can reassure clients they won’t see any difference in our service or attention to detail. We need to make sure everyone understands my being in Colorado won’t affect our timelines, either, especially for SiEtch’s release.”

      “I still think we’re missing the mark, and we should lower our price point.”

      No way would he discuss that issue with Ethan again. They disagreed, and nothing either one said would change the other’s mind. “My lawyer’s working on getting approval for my niece to move in with her grandparents. Six months at the outside and I’ll be back here running things.”

      Ethan shook his head, and chuckled. “I don’t envy you. Six months with a teenage girl? I hope you can manage to stay sane.”

      “It shouldn’t be too bad. School starts a couple of days after I get there. How hard can it be when she’s gone eight hours a day?”

      * * *

      REED’S STOMACH KNOTTED up when Estes Park came into view. The main drag into town was four lanes now instead of two, but even at rush hour, the traffic seemed nonexistent by San Francisco standards and, damn, a turtle moved faster! They passed The Stanley Hotel, a white giant perched on a hill above the town. Farther down W. Elkhorn Avenue, shops catering to the tourists that kept the town of ten thousand alive lined the sidewalks. So many people came to Estes Park to enjoy the scenery, shop and relax. Here, they could get away from their lives and slow down for a while. Recharge their batteries.

      Not Reed. How would he face anyone after what he’d done to his father? Sure, he’d changed, but everyone in Estes Park knew who he’d been. That’s why when he visited Colt he stayed on the ranch, but that wouldn’t be an option now.

      As they left the town behind and drove past other bigger ranches, Reed longed to be back in the city where he could blend in with the masses. Where he could walk past people and no one knew him. No one knew what he’d spent a lifetime running from.

      When Colt turned down the long gravel driveway to the Rocking M, Reed’s chest tightened. Pine and aspen trees stood guard. Others would call the rustic ranch settled among the rugged Rocky Mountains beautiful, maybe even going so far as serene, but not Reed. The mountains loomed over the ranch like silent giants, reminding him of his father—harsh, unyielding and domineering.

      Memories bombarded him as the simple ranch house came into view. Colt had painted the place a soft brown instead of the dingy cream Reed remembered and had planted new landscaping, but the alterations couldn’t change his memories or the fact that he’d been glad to be free of the place. For Reed, the old man’s presence dominated everything on the ranch. Even after all these years and everything he’d done to shake him.

      Like staying away from Estes Park while his father had been alive.

      “You know where the guest room is,” Colt said once they stepped inside the front door. “When you’re ready I’ll give you the rundown on the place.”

      While Reed had returned to the Rocking M since Colt owned the place, his visits had so far consisted of a Thanksgiving weekend or a couple of days over Christmas, and he’d avoided going into town. He’d worked so hard to leave his past behind, but that was hard to do when everyone in town knew who he’d been.

      Especially Avery.

      Ben McAlister, Avery’s father, had done him a favor all those years ago, though at the time, Reed had thought it had been the worst thing ever to happen to him.

      Your father’s an alcoholic who beats the people he claims to love. You’ve changed this summer, and I hate to say it, but I see glimpses of him in you, son. You need to grow up and deal with your past. Until you do that, all you’ll do is drag my daughter down with you.

      As Reed trudged up the stairs he told himself he’d be damned if he’d let his memories pull him back.

      He walked into the guest bedroom and his throat closed up. While the room looked nothing like it had when he’d lived here—now resembling a hotel room with its nondescript accessories and earth tones—all he saw was the past. He pictured himself as a scared child, huddled in the corner between his bed and the wall as the sounds of his parents arguing shook the house. He remembered how often he curled up on his bed, his chest aching from the blows his father’s meaty fists had delivered. He pictured himself as a teenager sprawled on the floor, the world spinning around him from drinking too much beer to numb the pain.

      He’d never been able to stand being here for longer than four days. How would he handle staying for possibly a year? One nightmare at a time. And he’d do what he’d always done. He’d focus on work. After dumping his suitcase in the closet, he practically ran out of the room.

      When he and Colt toured the ranch,