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an enemy remained to be seen, but in the meantime, he’d keep an eye on her. She wasn’t the only one who could put on an act. He would pretend to be the gracious host, and if she let down her guard, he’d be able to circumvent any mischief she might have in mind.
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    Tension and stress threatened to turn Bryn into an insomniac. After one particularly restless night, therewas a knock at her bedroom door, and she realized with chagrin that the sun was shining brightly through a crack in the draperies.
    She cleared her throat. “Come in.” She expected the cleaning lady. But it was Trent.
    The grimace that crossed his handsome face might almost have been a lopsided half smile. “I owe you a thank-you for coming so quickly when Mac called.”
    She sat up in bed, covers clutched to her chest, and scraped the hair from her face. Trent was clean shaven and his hair was still damp from his shower. In contrast, Bryn was decidedly rumpled.
    He’d brought scrambled eggs and toast. It was all arranged on a tray with coffee, jam and a napkin.
    He set it on the dresser and kept his distance.
    She tried to clear her sleep-fogged throat. “Thank you.”
    His brooding gaze studied her. “One of Mac’s old college buddies is coming to visit today. I thought you and I should make ourselves scarce. It’s a beautiful day. We could take a hike…like we used to.”
    â€œA hike?” Her coffee-deprived brain was slow to catch up.
    He nodded, still unsmiling. “We got off on the wrong foot this week, Bryn. I appreciate what you’re doing for Mac.”
    â€œSo this is an olive branch?” Her heart leaped in her chest.
    He shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that. But it bothers him when we’re at each other’s throats. We can at leastput on a good front when we’re around him. So maybe we need to clear the air.”
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    The breakfast was delicious, but Bryn chewed and swallowed absently, still pondering Trent’s final cryptic statement. He’d left her bedroom abruptly, and he didn’t sound like a man who was suddenly convinced she was telling the truth. If anything, he wanted to brush the past under the rug.
    She couldn’t do that. She had Allen to consider.
    She dressed rapidly in light hiking pants and a short-sleeved shirt. She hadn’t brought her boots with her on the plane, because they were heavy, so a sturdy pair of sneakers would have to do.
    Sunshine must be strong medicine, because she found Mac in good spirits. She smoothed his sheets absently. “Are you sure you’ll be okay while we’re gone?”
    Mac nodded. “I’m fine. No need to hover. You’ve been in Minnesota a long time. Get out and enjoy the ranch.”
    Bryn and Trent left shortly thereafter, this time in one of the ranch Jeeps. Trent drove with the quiet confidence that was so characteristic of him.
    Bryn wasn’t entirely comfortable with his silence. “Where are we going?” she asked.
    Trent shifted into low gear as they wound partway up the side of a steep hill. “Falcon Ridge.”
    There was no inflection in his voice, but Bryn felt a kick of excitement. Falcon Ridge was a family favorite. She and Mac’s boys had spent many a happy afternoon there over the years.
    Trent parked the Jeep and got out. He attached the quilt like a bedroll at the base of his high-tech pack and stuffed their picnic lunch inside.
    â€œI can carry something,” Bryn said.
    His motions were quick and methodical. “I’ve got it.”
    The trail was only a mile long, but it went up, up, up. Trent led the way, his stride steady, his back straight. Bryn’s leg muscles were burning and her lungs gasping for air when they reached the summit.
    â€œOh, Trent…I’d forgotten how beautiful it is up here.”
    The valley of Jackson Hole lay before them, breathtaking, magnificent, tucked against the backdrop of the Grand