The pool, where she’d almost kissed Gideon.
She shuddered. “Let’s keep moving,” she called to the group, pointing ahead of her. “Lots to see, still.”
“But it’s so pretty here,” one of the riders responded. “Can we stop for pictures?”
Jamie turned in the saddle to look at Haylee, shaking her head, hoping she’d understand the silent but not-so-subtle message.
Nope.
“Why not?” Haylee called back. “The horses could use a drink. And I could sure use a stretch.”
Without looking at Gideon, Jamie nudged Nash to the far side of the clearing and waited, without leaving the saddle. Poised for a quick getaway, she thought.
Several riders dismounted, their cell phones out for pictures.
“It’s so romantic,” said the silver-haired woman, who rode as part of a challenge following a hip replacement. “Does anyone ever swim here?”
“I don’t know.” Haylee looked at Jamie with wide, innocent eyes. “Jamie? Have you gone swimming here?”
She glanced at Gideon, who wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding his smile. “Not by choice. It’s a glacier-fed stream. I recommend enjoying it from land.”
“You fell in?” The twelve-year-old laughed. “That’s awesome!”
Jamie felt all the eyes of the group on her. She was used to being embarrassed, but today, as the trail leader, she ought to have their respect.
“Not at all,” Gideon said. “She was rescuing someone.”
Now all eyes swiveled to him. He sat tall but relaxed in the saddle, as if he had been born to ride. One arm rested along his lean thigh and his gaze met hers, as if no one else was around.
She shook her head slightly, and casually drew a finger across her throat, hoping he’d get the message.
“Rescuing who?” asked the girl.
“What happened?”
“Tell us the story!”
Jamie held up her hand. “There was no rescue. I slipped—”
“She was rescuing a puppy,” Gideon interrupted.
A collective gasp went up. Haylee turned to look at Jamie, her eyebrows raised in amused understanding.
“A puppy!” the young girl said. “You’re a hero!”
“Hardly,” Jamie replied. “He faked me out, the little rotter. He was fine.”
“Then Gideon rescued you?” said the girl’s grandfather.
“There was no rescue!” Jamie looked to Gideon for backup, but he just smiled.
“She was fine. I helped her out, that’s all.” He appeared to be enjoying the story as much as anyone. “Though there was a bear in the area at the time.”
“So romantic!” said the silver-haired rider, ignoring Jamie’s contribution to the conversation. “What happened then?”
“My lips are sealed.” Gideon looked skyward. “I’m a gentleman.”
“Did you kiss her? Did she kiss you? What a perfect meet-cute.” The woman put one palm over her heart and sighed with delight.
“There was no rescue, no kiss, no meet-cute, and definitely no gentleman.” Jamie’s face felt like it was on fire.
Damn that Gideon. What a time for his sense of humor to finally surface. She hoped he didn’t continue on to the nosebleed part of the tale.
But it appeared he was ready to take pity on her. “Folks,” Gideon said, “Jamie’s got a lot more to show you while you ponder the romance of Driftwood Creek, and what may, or may not, have taken place here. Jamie?”
He winked, then laid his reins across Rosie’s neck and made way for her to lead the group out.
“I’ll get you for this,” she muttered as she passed by him.
He guffawed, and her annoyance melted. It was so good to hear him laugh.
Chapter Fifteen
A mixed bag of aspects. Stay on your toes.
—Gideon’s horoscope
At three o’clock in the afternoon, Gideon leaned over the small mirror and ran his electric razor over his cheeks and jaw. Aside from the rooms in the main house, accommodations at Sanctuary Ranch ranged from studio units with Murphy beds to two-story cabins with three bedrooms and full kitchens. Gideon’s was a small one-bedroom with a hot plate, fridge, and microwave. It was all he needed, and the austerity pleased him.
Today, it seemed cramped and inadequate.
He rubbed his jaw, noting the dark circles under his eyes. He’d already shaved that morning, but Lana had always complained about how quickly his whiskers returned. He didn’t care about impressing her for his own sake; but he’d do anything to predispose her to let him see Blake.
He knew already that the life he led now was not going to work in his favor.
Before he’d gone to prison, he’d set her up for life, caring only that she was secure and that his mistake wouldn’t jeopardize her future or that of their unborn child. He couldn’t see past the four bleak years yawning ahead of him and trusted her to look after everything so that, when he got out, he’d be able to fold time over itself and step back into his life as if nothing had changed.
Then, before the echo of locked steel doors had stopped ringing in his ears, she’d ended it with him.
He’d gotten over losing Lana. He couldn’t care less about the money. But his son mattered.
Now, as Gideon looked around his sparsely furnished cabin, he regretted his lack of material possessions. The boy would need a bedroom, a bathtub, a place to keep his toys, his clothes.
He put on a fresh shirt, then looked around his place, trying to see it as she would. Generic sofa and coffee table. Light-toned wood dining table and two straight-backed chairs. Framed acrylic prints of ocean scenes on the walls.
He rinsed his coffee mug in the sink, dried it, and put it in the small cupboard beside the window. Picked up a throw cushion, moved it to the other side of the couch. Moved it back.
“Stop it,” he muttered to himself. She’d be here in ten minutes. He might as well head up to the main house and wait on the porch, where at least the background sounds of Daphne and Sage in the kitchen and Olivia in the office could lend some normalcy to the occasion.
Maybe he should have scheduled their first meeting on neutral ground, a coffee shop in town perhaps.
But he’d wanted home advantage, still angry that she’d sent Elliot Hudson to suss him out. He couldn’t believe she’d grown so distrusting, so petty. Was that Hudson’s doing?
Gideon had made it clear to Lana that he would deal with her alone.
He hoped that Lana would be impressed by the fresh wide-open space, the wholesomeness of the ranch environment, and how friendly and nurturing the people here were. Also, it was Jamie’s afternoon working in town.
Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen.
Little Sal wailed from a back corner of the house. Daphne yelled something at Sage, who yelled something distinctly unwholesome back. Footsteps sounded, followed by the slamming of pots and pans.
When twenty minutes had passed after the agreed-upon time of their meeting and there was still no sign of her, he got up and strode to the stables. He was going to lose his mind.
As distracted as he was, he wasn’t watching where he was going and almost crashed into Jamie, coming around the side of the kennel house with an enormous bag of dog food slung over her shoulder.
“What are you doing here?” The smell of coconut and wet dog told him she’d been working in the grooming room.
“Whoa!” She sidestepped him, neatly shifting the bag to her other shoulder. “Nice to see you, too.”
“I mean,” he backpedalled, “isn’t this your day teaching for the parks board?”
“Class got cancelled.” She plopped the bag at her feet and narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
He glanced toward the driveway. “Nothing.” Just as well Lana was late. He did not want to deal with her with Jamie around.
“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. Hey. What’s with the baby face?” Jamie reached out and stroked his chin with her thumb. “Did you shave for
a second time today? Wait. Do you have a date?”
He jerked away. Her casual touch suggested a closeness he couldn’t allow, and the visceral reaction to the warmth of her fingers on his face made him snap, “Don’t be ridiculous.”
The dogs in the kennel started barking, followed by the low growl of an engine. Moments later, a sleek, black Audi appeared on the driveway.
Gideon’s stomach tightened. He shaded his eyes. Definitely her.
Jamie turned to follow his gaze. “Who’s that?”
“Nobody. Don’t worry about it.”
“Really?” Jamie trotted behind him. “Let me see. You’re all in a snit about something. A woman in a hot car shows up and you run over to her like she’s . . . oh.”
The first thing Gideon saw of the woman he’d almost married were her shoes as she stepped out of the vehicle. Narrow-strapped, open-toed heels, three inches at least. Nylon-clad legs appeared, followed by a skinny grey skirt that hiked up to reveal her shapely knees. White blouse, a multicolored scarf. Painted nails.
So much for a tour of the ranch. He was painfully aware of Jamie behind him, watching closely, no doubt evaluating his former lover and creating a narrative in her head about the two of them that had little to do with reality.
He strode up to Lana, his mouth dry. She’d visited him exactly three times in prison. She hadn’t accepted his calls or responded to his letters. When he had finally heard from her, it had been through her lawyer.
“Lana,” he said, holding out his hand. His voice was full of gravel.
She glanced down at it, as if surprised that he’d offer the greeting, then took it and shook, once.
“Gideon.”
A diamond engagement ring sparkled on her left hand. She stepped back and gave her head a little shake, making her hair shift and settle softly around her face. It was shorter now than when they’d been together. He used to like her hair.
Now, it was someone else’s hair, like something from a salon magazine.
An awkward silence settled over them. She tugged her big bag against her side, like a shield.
“So. Elliot said you were a cowboy now.” Lana glanced around, her expression carefully neutral. “I never would have guessed you’d end up on a farm again.”
Sanctuary Ranch was nothing at all like the gardening business his parents had run.
Gideon struggled to find something to say that wouldn’t be inflammatory. He could hardly reconcile the brittle woman in front of him with the carefree girl he’d once thought he loved. She’d gotten the wealth she’d always sought, but single motherhood had been the price. He guessed that there was no amount of money that would ease the task of raising a child alone.
Guilt chewed at his stomach lining. He’d done that to her. She’d once shone with a bright, fun-loving energy, not unlike Jamie, he realized, with a start.
Boots clattered over the stones in the yard. “Welcome to Sanctuary Ranch.” Jamie walked up to Lana and stuck out her hand. “Jamie Vaughn. I’m a friend of Gideon’s. I’m guessing you’re Lana. The ex.”
Lana looked down at Jamie’s hand. “Yes,” she said. Jamie’s choppy bangs flopped around her eyes as she pumped Lana’s arm. He’d seen her in her cottage with a pair of dog-grooming scissors once, snipping the spiky strands until they stood up when she ran her hands through them, setting off her flashing eyes and delicate features.
Jamie stepped back alongside Gideon and shoved both hands into the back pockets of her jeans.
He hadn’t wanted her there, but now her presence buoyed him. “I’d like to start by showing you what Blake will be exposed to,” he told Lana. “We’ve got dogs, cats, horses, cows, chickens. Or we can go to the main house first and I’ll introduce you to the group.”
“Don’t forget the new kittens,” Jamie added. “You should see Gideon bottle-feed them. It’s adorable.”
“I’m sure.” Lana cut her eyes sideways at Jamie, then took a step closer to Gideon. “Is there somewhere private we can talk?”
Her tone of voice didn’t bode well for the conversation.
“Let’s go to the stables. It’s pretty private there.” Jamie crossed her arms and widened her stance. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m the soul of discretion. If you want to talk about ancient history, your relationship, your breakup, his time in prison, how you’re keeping him from seeing his son, pretend I’m not here.” She made a lock-and-key motion at her lips. “I’m completely trustworthy. Also, he doesn’t like to admit it, says it makes him feel like a rock star, but I’m Gideon’s bodyguard. So, you’re stuck with me.”
She stuck her hips forward and swayed back and forth, as if she were a mean three-hundred-pound bouncer and not a willow-thin dog trainer who didn’t know what she was getting into.
“Jamie.” Her loyalty touched him deeply, but it wasn’t helping.
“Okay, fine.” She huffed, put her hands up, palms out. “I’ll be around. You need me, just holler. Nice to meet you, Laura.”
Lana’s nostrils flared. “Lana. Yeah. You, too.”
Jamie strode toward the stables, watching them out of the corner of her eye until she rounded the corner.
He turned to this woman he barely recognized now, his chest hot. “We’ve been over this. You can’t change your mind now.”
“When it comes to my son’s well-being, I have to be one-hundred-percent certain before I agree.” She glanced at Jamie’s retreating figure. “And I’m not.”
He shook his head, balling his fists at his side. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t go back on her word, set out new conditions after they’d already agreed.
But if the tables were reversed, wouldn’t he do the same? Lana didn’t know him anymore. She was simply looking out for Blake.
He inhaled slowly, quietly, willing himself to stay calm, rather than say anything that would further her distrust.
“Of course.” He turned toward his cabin. “We can talk in my quarters.”
He walked ahead, just fast enough to stay ahead of her, not so fast as to appear rude. A scuffling sound made him turn around.
“Damn it,” Lana muttered, picking her way over the rugged surface. “These shoes were expensive.”
Gideon offered his arm. “Need help?”
She straightened and lifted her head. “I’m fine. Let’s get this over with.”
He opened the door to his cabin and gestured for her to enter first. She ducked her head, though the doorway was plenty tall.
“Relax, Lana. Have a seat. You’re in luck, I just fumigated. You want coffee?”
“No. Thank you.”
“Well, I’m making a pot, if you change your mind.”
He busied himself in the tiny galley kitchen, regretting his decision now to meet on his turf. This meeting, which should have been merely pro forma, had a bad feeling about it.
“I won’t be here long.” She looked at the couch as if uncertain whether he’d been joking or not, then lowered herself to perch on the front edge of the cushions. “This is very . . . rustic. But I suppose it’s palatial compared to prison.”
Gideon poured water into the top of his coffeemaker, cursing as some splashed over the edge and dripped to the floor.
“It wasn’t super-max, Lana. I saw no cage matches, became no one’s bitch, joined no gangs.”
He’d paid his debt to society with a few years of his life, and now, yes, the freedom to come and go as he pleased was indeed a luxury he would never again take for granted.
“Blake is very innocent.” Lana spoke abruptly, without looking at him. “I don’t want him exposed to anything . . . disturbing.”
The coffeemaker gurgled and spat behind him. “Meaning what? You think I’ll be a scarring influence on him?”
She turned her head toward the window, angling her body away from him, tugging the tote to her hip again.
He followed her gaze. Jamie and Tyler were walking across the yard toward the stables, kicking stones back and forth to each other.
/> “Having an ex-con for a father is one thing. Being out here with all these . . . other people.”
“This is a good place, Lana. These are good people.”
She swiveled back and met his gaze. “No, Gideon. They’re not. Elliot did background checks. Do you really know the people you’re working with here? How can I allow my son to visit a place that employs people like . . .”
Steam sizzled beneath the pot. “People like me, Lana? Is that what you mean?”
She stood up. “Yes, Gideon. You’re not the only ex-con here, did you know that? You probably thought you were special—well, you’re not. This place is crawling with felons, people with mental illnesses, street kids picked up for drugs, homelessness—”
“Careful, Lana. These are my friends you’re talking about.”
He pulled the coffeepot off before it was quite finished, the last few drips hissing on the hot plate. He poured two cups, added the dash of milk he guessed she still took, and set it in front of her, willing his hands not to shake, willing himself to stay calm, to not let her bait him into saying something he’d regret.
She was looking for a fight.
She wasn’t going to get one.
“We cared about each other once, Lana. Now we care about Blake. I don’t want this to get ugly. But make no mistake, I will be seeing my son here, at my home.” He sat down across from her. “When shall we begin?”
Chapter Sixteen
Mars–Uranus squares go hand-in-hand with
mishaps, so take extra precautions today.
—Jamie’s horoscope
Jamie was hosing down the large dog runs when she saw Haylee and Olivia heading her way. She lifted her head and turned off the hose.
“Hey, guys, come on in, the water’s freezing and smells like shit.” Then she saw their expression. “Whoa, what’s wrong? Is it Gideon?”
Ever since his ex had pulled up in her fancy car, Jamie had been on edge. He’d taken her to his cabin, to hash out the details of Blake’s first visit, and they’d been there a long time. Cleaning the runs at least gave her something to do.
She hung the hose up next to the tap and wiped her hands on a towel. Then she took off her hat, ruffled her hand through her hair a few times, and replaced it. She probably looked like a drowned rat from the humidity in the enclosed area.
Driftwood Creek Page 14
