“You and me?” She somehow managed a respectable-sounding laugh. “Pssh. We’re just friends.”
By the look in his eyes, Betsy knew she hadn’t quite allayed his suspicions. How uncomfortable would it be for them to work in the same office day after day if he thought she was pining over him? She had to make him think there was someone else. But who? They knew most of the same people.
“Actually, as long as we’re sharing confessions, I have my own secret crush. That’s why I could so easily relate to what you were saying.”
The muscles in his shoulders relaxed and the suspicion that had colored his gaze all but disappeared. “Who is he?”
If she refused to tell him, he’d think she was lying. But she couldn’t pick anyone currently living in Jackson Hole. That would be way too uncomfortable. And she wouldn’t put it past Ryan to spill the beans.
Think, she told herself, think of a name.
“Tripp Randall.”
“The Tripp Randall who used to live here?”
“He lives back East now.” Betsy relaxed against the chair, feeling comfortable enough to take a sip of her now-lukewarm drink. “He was married, but—”
“His wife died.”
At first Betsy was surprised. How did he know that Tripp’s wife had passed away? Then she reminded herself that this was Jackson Hole. It was hard to keep any kind of secret in this town.
“Even though he’s now single, I don’t think there’s any chance of our getting together,” Betsy said. “I mean, he’s in Connecticut and I’m here.”
“Not for much longer.”
“What do you mean? I don’t have any plans to move.”
“You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?”
“I just got a call from him this morning,” Ryan said. “Tripp is moving back to Jackson Hole.”
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