Page 92 of Wild Highway (Runaway 2)

“What a fun idea. Where’d yo

u end up?”

“Not far. I think we spent most of one day driving in circles. But we made it almost all the way to Idaho before the time was up and we had to turn back.”

The quarter, pinched between my finger and thumb, glinted as the sun streamed through the windows at my back.

“Don’t feel like you need to rush back,” she said. “Take two weeks. Take three. Take four. Take the time you need, and if you feel like exploring, flip the coin.”

Four weeks? I swallowed a laugh. She’d be lucky if I actually made it the planned two.

I tucked the quarter into my pocket. “Thank you. For the gift. And for sharing your story.”

She rounded the desk and put her hands on my shoulders. “We love you, Kat.”

“I love you too.” I went easily into her arms, closing my eyes and taking a long breath. She smelled of wind and earth and lilac blooms, sweet, but strong and free.

“Miss you already.”

“You too.” I gave her one last long squeeze, then let her go to heft my tote over a shoulder. “Call me if you need anything. Annabeth has a list of everything that needs to be done for the guests and Easton has the excursion schedule—”

“Honey, did you forget who built this resort from the ground up?” Carol laughed, taking my elbow and steering me for the door. “We’ll manage.”

“I know.” I sighed. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be disrespectful. I just feel . . . guilty.”

“Because you work too hard. And I know you don’t mean to be disrespectful. But this is your chance to disconnect. Trust me. We’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” I leaned into her, taking one last glance over my shoulder at the windows and view beyond.

I loved this office. I loved the woman I was in this office. Confident. Commanding. Successful. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I’d grow up to be the woman in the corner office, running one of Montana’s premier, luxury ranch resorts.

Green meadows blanketed the valley bordered by rolling, tree-covered hills. The mountains in the distance stood tall and blue. There was snow on their peaks, the white caps shining under the brilliant morning sky.

It was captivating and bold. Guests from all over the world came to stay here because the landscape was wholly enchanting. There was a reason why I hadn’t taken a vacation in years. When you lived in paradise, why leave?

This trip of mine wasn’t out of wanderlust. It was a necessary escape. The mental image of Cash canoodling with Dany, the surprise girlfriend, at Friday night’s family dinner was enough to make me scream.

Carol escorted me out of my office, flipping off the light as we passed the threshold. She probably felt my itching desire to go back in and check my planner just one more time, so she kept her arm looped with mine, leading—dragging—me down the long hallway. Her boots echoed on the floor’s wooden planks as we passed the row of empty offices.

This wing of the lodge was mostly offices, storage and two conference rooms for the occasional corporation who sent their executives away for a working retreat. Beneath us was the dining room and five-star kitchen. The guest rooms were on the other end of the lodge and we also had chalets and extravagant tents.

We sold Montana luxury. Our guests came here for a traditional Western experience—at least, that was the marketing pitch. Nothing about the Greer resort was traditional. We catered to the uber rich, the celebrities and urban wealthy who wanted to escape reality for a week to go hiking, horseback riding and glamping in Montana.

Our reputation and quality of experience meant we could charge four thousand dollars per night for a lavish, rustic, three-bedroom chalet.

I glanced at Annabeth’s office as we passed, my heart sinking to see it dark and empty. I was late to meet Gemma but I would have felt better had I touched base with at least one employee before leaving.

Besides the kitchen staff who’d been here since six, most of my employees wouldn’t arrive until eight thirty. JR’s office was across from mine, and while technically retired, he liked to come in around eleven each day, giving him plenty of time for one last cup of coffee before raiding the kitchen for lunch.

“I went through the menu for the next two weeks, but when JR comes in today, will you ask him to check in regularly? Chef Wong will go off menu if someone isn’t keeping tabs.”

The man was a brilliant chef who we’d hired from New York, but he forgot at times that we weren’t in Manhattan and our guests weren’t here to try gourmet fusion.

“Yes, we’ll make sure he stays on menu,” Carol said as we reached the top of the wide, sweeping staircase that dropped to the lobby.

“And will you remind Annabeth that we have a guest in a wheelchair coming Thursday? It’s a little boy with cerebral palsy. They’re staying in the Eagle Ridge Chalet and I’d like to have her escort them personally to make sure the arrangement will work.”

“Anything else?” Carol side-eyed me.