Jake’s money would buy her enough time to find a better job when she came back. Maybe in a restaurant where the boss didn’t verbally assault his workers whenever the mood struck. Maybe in a place where the customers actually knew how to tip.

At three o’clock Jake came back to the restaurant. He led her to a rented sport utility vehicle at the curb. She gave him directions to her apartment and he pulled into traffic.

“When’s our flight?” she asked.

Jake glanced over at her. “You’ll help me?”

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Sure.”

“Thank you.” The words were simple but sincere.

“No problem. I know how much you care about the ranch.” More than he had about her, but she didn’t want to go there. “It would be petty not to help you just because we don’t like each other anymore.” She paused, staring out the window at inner city Boston. “Anyway, this arrangement will be good for both of us, so it’s not like I’m really doing you a favor.”

Jake shook his head. “You’re definitely doing me a favor. Especially on such short notice.”

“When’s our flight?”

“Six a.m. I already bought you a round-trip ticket. And I’ve got a room reserved for you at one of the airport hotels. We won’t have to fight traffic in the morning.”

“You were that sure I’d come?”

“No, just desperate.”

A few minutes later they pulled up in front of her building. The facade was weathered brick, its windows dirty and cracked. She led Jake up the worn staircase and down the hall to her studio apartment.

He stepped into the single room and looked around. She saw it through his eyes: the peeling institutional green walls, the stains and cigarette bums on the vinyl flooring. The battered dresser and wardrobe, the narrow bed. The forlorn jade plant on the windowsill where it could soak up what little light came down between the apartment building and its neighbor.

“It’s not much,” she said, filling the silence, “but it’s home.”

He walked the two steps to the window and peered down into the alley.

Taylor grabbed a duffel bag—her only remaining piece of luggage—and went to her dresser. “We need to talk about money.”

“Right,” he said, turning from the window. “My offer from this morning stands. Four times what you make, plus paying off your credit card bills. And of course I’ll cover any expenses.”

She might be bailing him out of a tough position, but his offer was much too generous. “I’ll come for expenses and a stipend, but I can’t accept the money to pay off my debts. They’re my debts, Jake, and I have to take care of them myself. I don’t need to be rescued, just compensated for my time. And it’s not as if I’m going to be working that hard. A couple of dinners with Mr. Hankins and his grandchildren is not a big deal.”

“It’s a big deal to me.”

“I don’t want charity.”

“Fine. I won’t pay your debts.”

“Good. But there is one other thing we need to agree on. I’m definitely going to lose my job. Sleazy Steve won’t forgive me for skipping off for a week without notice.”

“Sleazy Steve?” Jake asked, sounding mad.

Taylor had gotten so used to her boss’s nickname that she didn’t even think about it anymore. But she realized it might be a little off-putting. “He has a...reputation. But don’t worry, he never tried anything on me. And if he had, he would’ve ended up with a broken wrist. I took a self-defense class when I was living at the YWCA.”

“You shouldn’t be working for someone like that.”

“I couldn’t risk looking for another job. Any interruption in my income would have meant losing this apartment. As for finding a new job, if I can’t find one right away I’m going to have to ask you to pay my rent for a month.”

“That’s fair,” Jake said.

“And I’ll need some clothes. I sold a lot of my things to get back on my feet. My wardrobe doesn’t extend to entertaining dinner guests.”

“We’ll go shopping this evening.”

“Okay. Give me a minute to pack up.” She went into the bathroom for a few things, then stuffed some other necessities into the duffel bag. “All set.”

“Not quite.” Jake reached into the pocket of his shearling coat. He pulled out a small black velvet box.

Her rings. How could she have forgotten about her rings?

A flurry of emotions ran through her, confused her. Regret, excitement, everything in between.

Then Jake flipped back the lid. Her diamond caught the light and flashed. An odd, uncomfortable feeling settled in her stomach.

“An important part of the costume,” Jake said, his tone almost light.

Her tongue seemed frozen. “Yeah,” she managed.

Jake took the engagement ring and matching wedding band out of their cushion. He held them in his palm.

She held out her own hand, palm up. Jake deposited the rings into her hand.

Without touching her.

Yes, her marriage was definitely over, Taylor thought. Well and truly dead. But that would make the next week easier. Oh, there might still be a physical spark between them, some strange force drawing them together, but on an emotional level there was nothing. Big old nothing.

Slowly she closed her fingers around the rings, pretending to herself that hiding them would make this easier. She certainly didn’t have the strength to put them on again, not yet.

Jake watched her for a long, excruciating moment before picking up her bag. “Let’s go get you some clothes.”

Taylor stared through the windshield of Jake’s truck as they rounded the last bend in the drive and the ranch buildings came into view.

She couldn’t believe she was back.

But here she was, back in Montana. Back at the scene of the most turbulent point in her twenty-two years.

The place looked so different, she thought. The tall grass and wildflowers were gone, obscured by a blanket of snow, and smoke curled from every chimney in the compound. The snow made the rugged Montana landscape seem even more vast, more isolated.

Jake’s parting words from the summer before echoed in her head.

You don’t belong here.

Until yesterday those had been their last words for five months. Every time she’d thought of Montana in the interim, those harsh words had been right there with her.

Looking at the immense emptiness around her, it was easy to imagine he’d been right. Maybe she belonged in the city, despite the unpleasantness of her life there now.

But it didn’t matter if she belonged here or not, she reminded herself. Her contract with Jake was for a week. One single, solitary week. Seven days. She’d do her job and then she’d get back on the plane to Boston.

Jake pulled up in front of the ranch house. She stepped carefully down onto the icy driveway and moved to the bed of the truck, unfastening the tarp to retrieve her suitcase. Last summer she would have stood by while Jake carried her suitcase, but now she wanted to stand on her own two feet.

Jake had a different idea, though. He reached to take the suitcase from her, ignoring her protest. As he did so their hands brushed accidentally and Taylor froze.

Their long day together had done nothing to lessen the awareness between them. By tacit agreement they’d avoided physical contact ever since he’d grabbed her wrist at lunch, and by and large they’d succeeded—except for the time she’d fallen asleep on the plane and woken with her head pillowed on his shoulder.

It was too easy, too seductive, to fall back into the patterns of the summer before, when they’d been so openly and joyfully physical with each other.

But she had to keep her distance—despite the signals her body sent her.

She hung back as they walked to the porch, thinking of the first time she’d come to the ranch, as Jake’s bride. Despite the beautiful scenery, at its peak in the middle of the summer, she’d had eyes only for Jake. She’d studied him as he drove, then sat and watched him as he parked the truck and walked around to her door.