by Lisa Jackson
“I heard it from Ada Patterson, and she knows everything that goes on ’round here.”
“Sometimes before it happens,” Jenner agreed with a half smile. Besides being a gossiping busybody, Ada owned and was the editor of The Rimrock Review. Jenner finished his beer and set the mug back on the counter. A trace of foam settled back inside. “But, as I said, I don’t know anything about it.” Which wasn’t all that surprising. It seemed that everything going on in the family these days was happening behind his back. He hadn’t known about Mavis and her damned letter to Beth; nor had he been privy to some of the conversations with doctors about his... condition. Max and Skye had handled that while he was recuperating in the hospital. The insurance investigation was an ongoing battle that Max was handling while his mother was dealing with Rex Stone concerning his father’s death.
Well, that’s the way he’d always said he wanted it. He’d never shouldered any responsibility for McKee Enterprises while his father had been alive and he certainly wasn’t going to take on any more obligations now.
Except maybe for Beth. Mavis might have started the business with Beth Crandall, but he sure as hell would be expected to finish it.
“Jeez, Jenner, you’ve always been a straight shooter. Jonah, well, he was one to talk in circles, tryin’ to make things sound good for you when they were really good for him, and Max, hell, he’s too much like your old man to do much better. But you—”
“I said I don’t know anything and I don’t. The rest of the family doesn’t always tell me what’s going on. Matter of fact, that’s the way I like it!” Jenner stood. The men at the table turned back to their drinks, but he felt the weight of more than one interested gaze following him as he grabbed his crutches with jerky movements and made his way out of the building.
He didn’t feel any better than he had when he’d swung into the bar and had been determined to drive Beth out of his mind. But the country music, clink of glasses and murmur of conversation hadn’t stopped his thoughts from returning to her. The smoky atmosphere and thin odor of grease from a deep fryer hadn’t overridden the fragrance of her perfume that still lingered in his nostrils. Nor had the malty flavor of his favorite brew washed away the taste of her lips.
“Damn it all, anyway.” He tossed his crutches into the cab and whistled to Reuben. “You can ride up front,” he told the old dog, who gladly bounded out of the truck bed and hopped through the open door.
Dogs were just so much easier to deal with than women.
“What the hell does this mean?” Jenner wagged the morning edition of The Rimrock Review under his brother’s nose. Upon seeing the first edition and the story about the reward offered for the arrest and conviction of the culprit involved in Jonah’s murder and/or the fire at the stables, Jenner had driven to the ranch and found his mother and brother in the kitchen, drinking coffee and sampling Kiki’s sourdough biscuits as if they had nothing better to do. Jenner slapped the newspaper onto the top of the table where he’d eaten for a good part of his life.
“Want some coffee?” Kiki asked. A gray-haired, skinny woman with a sour disposition that didn’t quite hide her heart of gold, she stared at Jenner as she always had, with steady disapproval.
“No, I don’t want any coffee! I want answers.”
“Kiki, please,” Virginia said. “Jenner could use a cup.”
“Maybe it should be decaf,” Max suggested.
“Very funny!” Jenner pinned his brother with a hard glare. “You’re all just full of surprises, aren’t you?”
Max leaned back in his chair. “I take it you disapprove of the reward.”
“Hell, yes, I disapprove. It’s the single most foolhardy thing you’ve done yet. You’re going to get every piece of slime in the county crawling out from under his rock to come out and try to collect.”
“And we just might find the killer,” his mother said as Kiki set a cup of black coffee in front of an empty chair. “Come on, Jenner, sit down and—”
“For the love of Mike, Mom, don’t you see what you’ve done?”
Virginia’s gaze hardened. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”
“You’ve drawn attention, Mom. Attention to the Rocking M. Attention to the family.”
“And attention to you,” Max said, pouring a thin stream of cream into his cup.
“That’s right.”
“And you don’t like it.”
“Damned straight.” Placated somewhat, he shoved his crutches up against the wall near the bay window and dropped into one of the old kitchen chairs, which had the audacity to creak against his weight.
“You know, Jenner, this is a surprise. For years, you’ve worked hard to be in the limelight—riding rodeo and all, rebelling against Dad, getting your butt thrown in jail.” His eyes narrowed as he took a gulp and watched his brother over the rim of his cup. “Seems to me, you’ve had a change of heart.”
“I’m a cripple, or don’t you remember?”
His mother gasped, but Max didn’t so much as flinch. “But that’s not it, is it?” Max guessed. “This has something to do with Beth Crandall and the boy.”
Jenner hated it when Max could read his mind. He wanted to reach across the table and wrestle Max to the ground as he had when they were boys. He also wanted to lie. To say that Beth and her impish son meant nothing to him. But Jenner was through with lies. “I don’t want them dragged into this.”
“Because of the scandal,” Virginia said.
“That’s not it,” Max said, and one side of his mouth lifted. “Jenner cares about them, doesn’t want them hurt.” His smile stretched even wider. “Hell, you think that boy is really yours, don’t you?”
Virginia shook her head. “Oh, no—”
“Could be.” Jenner grabbed a biscuit and slathered it with butter and blackberry jelly. “Whether he is or isn’t, I don’t want anyone from the Review or any damned news reporters from any other paper or magazine botherin’ ’em.”
“Or putting them in danger,” Max surmised.
Jenner felt every muscle in his body tense with the thought of Cody or Beth being in jeopardy because of him. “That’s right,” he said, realizing that if anyone was going to protect them, it had to be him. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of his crutches. Some bodyguard he’d be. He couldn’t even walk normally. His fingers clenched the handle of the cup. “I need to talk to Rex Stone.”
“So you don’t trust her.”
“Do you?”
Max didn’t say a word, but it was Virginia’s turn to read his mind. “You’d use Rex to find out if Beth’s telling the truth about the boy?” Clearing her throat, she set down her cup to stare at her second son. “Don’t tell me you’re falling for her story... or for her?”
“Course not,” he said quickly, maybe too quickly, because Max, damn him, barked out a short laugh that called him a liar. Changing the subject, Jenner said, “There’s something else we need to discuss.”
“Shoot,” Max said.
“I need to get back to work.”
“You’re not ready.”
“I may never be ready.” Jenner glared across the table. “I’m tired of being a hard-luck case.”
“Jenner, you’re not anything of the kind,” Virginia whispered. “You’re injured.”
“And I can’t stay cooped up another minute. Either I get my old job back helping Chester manage this place, or I go hunting for another.”
There was silence. Aside from the click of a timer on the stove and the swish of Kiki’s broom across the floor, no one dared breathe a word.
“Don’t you think it would be better if you gave yourself a rest and came back when you’re a hundred percent?” Max asked.
“That may never happen.” Jenner drained his cup. “You know it and I know it.”
“Skye seems to think it’s just a matter of time and maybe another surgery or two.”
“I’m done being under the knife and recuperating!” Jenner growled, banging his
fist on the table and making the spoons jump and cups rattle. Even fastidious Kiki gave up pushing her broom. “I need to get on with my life!”
Virginia tried to lay placating fingers on his, but he jerked back his hand as if her touch had burned him. “For the love of God, Mother, quit treating me like I’m a kid with a terminal illness!” He managed to pull himself to his feet with every bit of dignity he could muster and braced his hands on the tall back of the caned chair. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said to Max. “I either still have a job or I don’t. You figure it out!”
Snatching his crutches savagely, he shoved them under his arms and plunged through the kitchen door.
“It’s that Beth woman!” his mother whispered to Max. Jenner kept right on going as if he couldn’t hear. “She’s making him crazy, trying to pawn off that kid—”
“Cody could be his, Ma.”
“Max, really! Don’t even say it. Jenner would never get involved with Harriet Forrester’s daughter!”
“Like hell,” Jenner mumbled under his breath as he reached the front door and yanked it open. Fresh, cool autumn air, swept into the house. The door banged shut behind him.
It didn’t really matter what Max or his mother thought, but one way or another, Jenner was going to get to the bottom of Beth’s story and sort out truth from fiction. While he was at it, he’d have to make sure that the press— and the damned culprit whoever he was—didn’t discover that Cody might have McKee blood running through his veins.
“Right here—look for yourself!” Harriet wagged the morning edition of the Review under Beth’s nose.
“What’s so important it can’t wait until after Cody’s bath?” Beth glanced at the section of newspaper Harriet held out and caught sight of a bold headline for the want ads.
“‘Wanted for full- or part-time position: Registered Nurse. Inquire at Post Office Box 762 in care of The Rimrock Review.’ Didn’t I tell you? I’ll bet it’s a job at the clinic or maybe over at Dawson Memorial Hospital.”
“Great,” Beth said, wrinkling her nose as Cody, his blue eyes gleaming mischievously, splashed water over the front of her blouse. “Then I could work with Dr. Donahue, who’s supposed to soon become Dr. McKee. Max’s fiancée.” She grabbed a thick, rose-colored towel and pulled Cody, kicking and protesting loudly, out of the old tub. “Why don’t I just find someone to torture me slowly? You know, sticks under my fingernails, or water dripped on my forehead, or—”
“Why you say that?” Cody asked, and Beth sighed.
“I’m just making jokes. I was trying to be funny.”
Cody looked puzzled.
“It wasn’t funny,” Harriet assured her grandson. “Sometimes your mother has a very sick sense of humor.”
Beth laughed and fluffed her son’s hair with the towel. “So does your grandmother,” she said with a wink.
“I don’t know why it would be so bad to live here close to us—”
“Mom, we’ve been over this a hundred times on the phone.”
Harriet threw up her hands and let the newspaper drop onto the floor. “Fine, then there’s no use arguing, is there?” she said and huffed out of the tiny bathroom. Beth’s gaze fell to the front page of the Review, which had slid away from the classified advertising section. Her heart jolted as she read the headline: MCKEE FAMILY OFFERS REWARD
A picture of Jonah McKee, dressed in a western-cut business suit and shaking hands with the mayor a few years back, graced one side of the column. Beth couldn’t help feeling a tiny speck of anger at the man who had rejected his grandson and bilked the citizens of Rimrock of their hard-earned cash and property. She didn’t wish him dead, but she wouldn’t miss him, and only felt a stab of guilt when she realized that her son would never know his grandfather, nor would Jenner ever see his father again.
Skimming the article, she learned that Virginia McKee was offering twenty-five thousand dollars for information leading to the arrest and conviction of a suspect involved in the arson at the ranch or connected with Jonah’s death. There were quotes from the sheriff’s department and a private investigator named Rex Stone, all sounding overly confident, all assuring the community that justice eventually would be served.
“Splash Mommy ’gain,” Cody said, reaching into the tub and thrusting another small handful of water at her.
“No more splashing.” She dropped the paper. “Come on, sport, let’s get you out of here.” She tried to wrap Cody in the towel, but he squealed and ran down the hall.
“I naked!” he proclaimed, his damp little feet slapping against the bare floors. “Can’t catch Cody!”
Harriet poked her head into the bathroom. “What in heaven’s name—?”
“It’s a game we play,” Beth said, giving chase. Cody was already in the living room and opening the front door.
“No, Cody, not outside!”
“Outside!” he insisted with glee. Shoving the door open, he hurtled through.
“Stop!” Beth commanded just as Cody laughed at her sorry attempt to catch him and his slippery little body collided with the long, jean-clad legs of his father.
Chapter Seven
“What’s this?” Jenner asked, trying to keep his balance while he picked up the kid, who was as naked as a jaybird. “You’re in your birthday suit!”
“I not!” Cody insisted. He wriggled to get away from Jenner’s arms, but Jenner wouldn’t let go. “I naked,” he asserted, thrusting out his little chin.
“You sure are.” Warm and wet and smelling of soap, the boy had a way of wedging himself into Jenner’s heart, and for a second he wondered if it really mattered whether his blood was flowing in this kid’s veins or not.
“I want down!” Cody said, squirming.
Beth came to the doorway and offered him a tentative smile. “Sorry. One of the convicts escaped.”
“By boat, it looks like.” Jenner couldn’t help noticing the water on her blouse, which made the fabric more sheer and gave him a view of the edge of her bra and a tantalizing glimpse of the darker disk of her nipple. A strange knot began to unravel in his gut and he drew his eyes upward again.
She let out a soft laugh. “It’s true. A person could drown trying to get this guy clean.” She wrapped the towel around her son’s wriggling, slick body and lifted him from Jenner’s arms. “Bathing Cody is aerobic exercise. It’s how I get my daily workout, isn’t it?” she asked, sticking her nose into his damp hair.
The kid had left a wet impression on Jenner’s shirt, and the scents of baby shampoo, soap and a fragrance he was beginning to associate with Beth lingered in his nostrils for a fleeting second.
“So what are you doing here?”
“I thought we should talk.”
She hesitated a second, then smiled, “Come on in,” she invited, holding the door open with her backside as Cody squirmed in her arms. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail that fell in wild curls past her shoulders and seemed to catch fire in the morning light.
Grabbing his damned crutches, he hoisted himself through the doorway and into the house. The furniture was worn but clean, the pictures on the walls colorful reproductions. Plants in bright pots were placed near the windows, and hand-crocheted afghans were tossed haphazardly over cushions that had seen better days.
Harriet Forrester was brushing away a speck of dust on an old Formica tabletop near the fireplace and trying to hide a surprised grin that bugged the hell out of Jenner. Dealing with Beth was difficult enough; he didn’t want to have to face her mother.
“I think you know Mom.”
He inclined his head. “We’ve met.”
Harriet’s lips twitched with undisguised pride. “Well, Jenner, what do you think of our boy?”
“Mom!”
Jenner bristled inside. Why did she want to put him on the spot? With a shrug, he said, “Seems like an okay kid.”
“Oh, he’s way beyond okay. He’s downright phenomenal, aren’t you, baby?” she said, her gaze resting on her grandson for a s
econd before her expression changed and her smile faded. Her lips pinched a little at the corners and she cleared her throat. “You know, I was wondering what it was that you and your grandmother want.”
“Excuse me?”
“Mom, I don’t think this is the time or place—” Beth interjected.
“What I want,” he clarified.
“Mmm. And Mavis. She’s in on this, too.”
“Mom, don’t—”
“We’re talking about my grandson, Beth, my only grandson and we’re in my house, so I think I’m entitled to a few answers. Now, Mavis wrote you, asking about Cody, demanding you come here and let Jenner meet him, on the excuse of his accident, but I want to know where we all stand.” She lifted her chin a notch and looked over at Jenner again. “My family and yours run in different social circles and I’ve never hidden the fact that I’m not fond of anyone named McKee, but I’m willing to put the past aside for the sake of the child. However, I don’t expect to be run over roughshod just because—”
“Please, Mom, for God’s sake—”
“It’s all right.” Jenner held up a hand to stop Beth’s protest, then turned his attention back to Harriet. “I don’t blame you for wanting to know what’s up. I didn’t know anything about my grandmother’s letter, just like I didn’t know anything about Cody until Beth showed up at the Rocking M a few days ago. To be honest, I’m not even sure what’s truth and what’s fiction around here. I’m trying to sort it out.”
“You still think I’m lying,” Beth accused, her green eyes snapping with fury.
He didn’t bother answering.
Harriet snorted, and Beth, holding a swaddled Cody, said coldly, “I don’t need to be a part of this. You two, with all your built-in predjudices about each other, work this out. You can inform me later. Right now, I’m going to get my son dressed before he freezes to death.”
“Or escapes again,” Jenner said.
Beth turned on her heel, and walking smartly through an archway that led down a hall to the bedroom, she disappeared. He itched to follow her, to have it out with her once and for all, to hold her in his arms and...oh, hell, what was he thinking?
