“Colt, he said—”
“He’s full of shit,” Tate said confidently. “And call me Tate. Colt was just my code name.”
Hope stopped short as she got a good look at the home Tate was headed for. “This is your cabin?”
He shrugged. “It is made out of logs.”
Hope gaped, trying to take in the sheer size and design of Tate’s house. It was made of cedar logs and stone, with large pillars of cedar across the front of the home. Towering picture windows adorned the front of the house, probably giving an incredible view of the sunsets. It was at least two stories, probably three as she was fairly certain one of the sets of stairs led to a lower level. There was a garage connected with several doors, a section of the home that could probably store half a dozen vehicles. Strangely, the home was designed to fit into the wooded mountain setting, and even though it was enormous, it still managed to be welcoming rather than ostentatious. “It’s beautiful,” Hope said breathlessly. “Can I take pictures?”
Tate waved his hand, and taking that as permission, Hope took several shots before she followed him along the stone path to the door.
The inside of the house was just as stunning as the exterior: the entire first floor, open and spacious, boasted the same beamed, cathedral ceiling as the guesthouse. As she passed the living room, she noticed a lot of antique firefighting equipment and pictures prominently displayed. “You’re an antiques collector?”
“Just firefighting stuff. One of my ancestors started Colter Equipment, a big producer of firefighter equipment and gear, and it’s one of the major manufacturers now. I like to collect the old pieces and advertising from the company. It’s a hobby. I’m a volunteer firefighter.”
Hope smiled as she followed him into the kitchen, not the least bit surprised that Tate was active in helping his community. “The house is gorgeous.”
“The kitchen is a waste,” Tate grumbled as he brewed her a single cup of coffee, and then started his own. “I don’t really use much except the microwave and the coffee maker.”
Hope took a seat at the kitchen table as she looked appreciatively around the large, spacious kitchen with every modern convenience and decorated beautifully with granite countertops and cedar cupboards. She took the cup of coffee from him. “Too bad. It’s a cook’s dream.”
Tate dropped some cream and sugar on the table before he grabbed his own coffee. He turned the slatted, wooden chair around and straddled it; his forearms rested on the table. “So are you really okay?”
Hope shrugged. “For the most part…yes. I guess I still have some things that will never go away.”
“I don’t think you can experience something like that and not have a few hang-ups,” Tate observed, his voice low and soothing. “What are you going to do about Jason? You should tell him, Hope. He knows about your career.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Thanks to you,” she chastised.
“He would have found out anyway. Your portfolio was there. He isn’t stupid. He would have figured it out, even if I hadn’t helped him. You’re married to him, Hope. You need to tell him everything. The guy is crazy about you.”
“He’s really not,” Hope denied. “He wanted to keep me from marrying a man who didn’t even exist.”
Tate grinned. “The fake boyfriend?”
“How did you know?” Hope added cream and sugar to her coffee and took a long sip, savoring the rich flavor.
“Because I’m not Jason. The guy’s not thinking right at the moment. It wasn’t hard to figure out, but it took me awhile. I think I finally figured it out when there was no email or information on him in your computer.”
“So you didn’t think you needed to tell him about that?” She shot him an annoyed look.
“Nah. I figured you’d fess up eventually.”
“I told him almost everything. There are just some things I don’t want to talk about. I still have a few…issues.” Hope sighed. “I can’t stay married to him.”
“We all have issues,” Tate grumbled. “The only way you can resolve this with Jason is to talk to him. Believe me, he wants more than to get into your panties,” Tate told her bluntly. “If that’s all he wanted, he could have gotten a piece of action with another woman without all that effort.”
Hope knew that, and she still didn’t completely understand Jason’s motivation. She was fairly certain the only reason he stuck to his guns now was to keep her from doing anything dangerous. “Then why didn’t he?” she asked desperately. “Why didn’t he just find another woman and walk away from me in Vegas?”
Tate crossed his arms over the back of the chair and stared her down. “I think that’s something you’ll have to figure out for yourself.”
Hope let out an exasperated breath. “I know I should tell him. He’s confused by some of my fears. He knows everything else. I just have a hard time…reliving it.”
“As difficult as I know that will be, I want you to be able to move on completely, which means confronting Jason, letting him know the whole truth,” Tate said solemnly, picking up his coffee.
“Me too. I want to move on.” She wished she had Tate’s confidence so she could be completely whole again. She had thought that she was doing well…until she’d seen Jason. He made her yearn for things she hadn’t ever missed before. Last night, and her experience with Jason during the holidays, had been telling. There were still some ghosts she apparently hadn’t exorcised.
“How long are you staying?”
“Two weeks. He’s blackmailing me,” Hope told Tate unhappily.
Tate smirked. “Smart man. He threatened to tell your family if you leave?”
“Yes.”
Tate chuckled.
“Tate?” Hope said quietly.
“Yeah?”
“You’re kind of a jerk,” she told him.
He smirked. “I never claimed to be anything else, darlin’.”
Hope rolled her eyes. As much as she owed Tate, he annoyed her with his vagueness. She supposed that came with the territory of being Special Forces. “Are you out of the military?” she asked curiously.
He nodded. “Over a year ago.”
Mercifully, Tate dropped the subject of Jason. She and Tate made small talk until they finished their coffee and he walked her back to the guesthouse.