“Definitely works for me.” He felt his shoulders fall in relief, though there was no way in hell he was going to forget the sight of her blond hair falling in wisps over tiny purple satin straps.
She adjusted a clipboard she was carrying. “Perfect. So…you’re Jasper.” He could practically see her running an employee spreadsheet through her brain, not finding his name. “And what do you do here?”
“Causes trouble, generally.” Brandy laughed. “But he keeps Bette in coffee and cookies, so he gets away with it.”
“Oh.” Emma nodded slowly. “Are you—the cook?”
Brandy laughed again before Jasper could answer, but she didn’t speak.
“No?” Emma shook her head slowly, like she could see she was firmly on the outside of an inside joke.
“No.” He cleared his throat as he caught himself staring at her eyes, wondering if her long lashes were real, or enhanced by mascara.
Brandy looked from one of them to the other, a smile sneaking up her face. Then she nodded slowly toward Jasper like she was trying to get a monkey to speak.
“Jasper runs Java Beans, the coffee shop downtown.”
“There’s a downtown?” Emma’s face brightened. “And coffee?”
He laughed at the desperation in her tone. “Both, yes. We have grocery stores and everything here.”
“Sorry.” She rolled her eyes apologetically. “I just got in yesterday, and all I’ve had since I landed was that cup of tar that just ruined my shirt. I could really use some good coffee.”
“Well, if you can find the staff room, there’s excellent coffee here.” Brandy nodded. “Which we’re trained to say because he’s our supplier. But also it’s true.”
Emma laughed, and the sound hit him like a punch to the gut. Bridget’s had always been low, throaty, intentional. Emma’s seemed to surprise her as it burbled out.
“Sounds like I’d better start my tour with the staff room, then.” She put her hand out toward Jasper. “It’s very nice to meet you, and I promise to be clothed next time you come to deliver coffee.”
He shook her hand, probably one beat longer than necessary, not bothering to correct her assumption that he had no other reason to be here. She met his eyes as she let go, and he felt something flip inside as she looked down, her long lashes hiding the blue.
Damn, she was beautiful.
“Okay.” Emma shook her head like she was clearing it. “Brandy, let’s go find Katrina. And the rescue crew, just in case I have more than a dodgeball injury on my hands.”
“You don’t.” Jasper smiled.
“Did you see it happen?”
Brandy snorted, and he shot her a warning glance. He was pretty sure Emma didn’t miss either the snort or the glance.
“Yeah. He’s fine. Just needs to learn how to dive. We’re working on it.”
“What?” Emma’s eyes widened.
“How not to dive.” Damn. “That’s what I meant.”
“Were you playing dodgeball? Here? With the residents?”
Double-damn.
“It’s a revised dodgeball sort of thing.” He shrugged. “You know, with wheelchairs.”
“Is this something the activities director came up with?”
Jasper pictured Tess with her checklists and safety bag and immense dislike for, well, him.
“Um, no. Sort of our own invention.” He paused. “When she’s not here.”
“I see.” Emma nodded. “And how often is the ambulance called after one of these games?”
Brandy snorted again. “Usually it’s during the game.”
“Not helping here, Brandy.” Jasper closed his eyes. “Archie’s a big fake and we all know it. Our last real injury was, like, a month ago.”
Emma’s eyes widened again, but she didn’t speak.
“It wasn’t a resident.” He put up his hands. “One of the LNAs got her foot caught in the spokes of a wheelchair.”
Emma closed her eyes, wincing. He wasn’t making this better.
“I think—wow. Um, I’m not sure what to think.” She shook her head and pulled pieces of air downward in a classic Buddha find-the-peace thing. “Brandy, how about we do the tour, and once I get the lay of the land, we can talk about…activities.”
“Sounds good!” Brandy bubbled.
“And how safe it is to be engaging our residents in things that risk a rescue crew having to traverse the mountain to get up here.”
This last part was delivered with eyebrows firmly hiked, and Jasper almost laughed. She looked oh, so imperious. But her nose had a little flip at the end that was so damn cute.
“Mountain?” he asked. “What mountain?”
She looked at him like he’d lost his marbles. “The mountain? The one I drove up to get here?”
He laughed for real, then pointed through her office door at the window. “Those are mountains. This little rise we’re on? Merely an anthill.”
“Well, I don’t think my car’s going to survive this—anthill—if it snows, which my guidebook says could happen anytime now.”
“Yup. Totally could.” He peered out the window, looking for an unfamiliar car. “What’d you get for a rental?”
“That.” She wrinkled her nose as she pointed toward a gunmetal-gray piece-of-crap sedan that must have been the last thing on the airport lot.
“Lucky you got here alive.”
“I had that thought myself, more than once.”
“You’re supposed to drive it for the next three months?”
“If it doesn’t fall apart driving up and down this mount—anthill, yes.”
Jasper shook his head. “You’re gonna need a different car. Tires on that thing are probably as bald as Horace.”
Brandy laughed. “Don’t be picking on old Horace.” She leaned toward Emma. “He’s our cook.”
“Except he can’t cook.” Jasper rolled his eyes. “Word of warning—do not eat his dinner rolls.”
“Or his soup,” Brandy added. “Or the tuna. Still can’t figure out what he puts in there.”
Emma swallowed hard, and he could tell she was trying not to grimace. “I’ll maybe bring my own lunch, thanks.”
Jasper nodded. “That would be a safer choice.”
“Quick question, though? Why is it that we have a cook who can’t—cook?”
Brandy wrinkled her nose. “Because he’s been here since the place opened, and he’s the nicest guy you’ll ever meet, and he tries so hard—he really does. Bette just doesn’t have the heart to let him go. He needs the benefits, and she keeps hoping he’ll finally decide to retire so she can hire somebody new.”
“I see.” Emma nodded, and Jasper could practically see her making check marks on an internal list. First, cancel dodgeball. Second, fire cook.
He didn’t like her list at all, thank you.
But then another thought struck him. Would she have the power to fire someone while she was here as the temporary director?
Damn. He needed to do damage control, and fast.
“We’re just kidding, Emma.” He tried to catch Brandy’s eye. “He’s an awesome cook.”
Brandy’s eyes widened in disbelief, but after a long beat, she seemed to catch on. “Right. The best. Especially that…tuna.” She turned away before Emma could see her stick out her tongue, and it was all Jasper could do not to laugh.
“Okay.” Emma nodded. “For now, I’ll take your word for it, mostly because I don’t have a choice, and I need to get started with the day here.”
She turned to Jasper. “No more dodgeball.”
“I promise there will be no more dodgeball games while you are here.”
Her eyebrows went upward. “Or when I’m not here, to be clear.”
He laughed. “Fine. Scout’s honor. We’ll go with rugby next week.”
“And Jasper?”
“Hm?”
She headed toward the hallway after Brandy. “Learn to knock.”
—
“Hey, Jasper?” Gunna
r slid a coffee back over the counter toward him an hour later. “Lexi’ll kill me if I come home with decaf.”
Jasper picked up the cup, wondering how he’d pulled an entire travel mug of coffee out of the wrong urn without even noticing. Lexi was his best customer, and three times a week, her husband came into Java Beans to fetch coffee to bring back home to Whisper Creek Ranch for her. She would kill Gunnar if he came home with decaf.
She’d kill Jasper next.
“Sorry, man. Let me get the right stuff.”
“Where’s your head today?”
“Top of my shoulders.” Jasper rolled his eyes as he handed the steaming, fully caffeinated mug back, along with another. “Here. Take a load off for a minute. The horses can wait.”
“Thanks, man.” Gunnar slid onto a barstool. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” Jasper bristled. “Why?”
“Nothin’.” Gunnar shrugged. “You just seem a little…distracted.”
“Because I almost poisoned your wife with decaf? You’re right—sign me up for the dementia unit.”
Dead silence greeted his words, and he shook his head.
“Sorry.” He wiped his hands on the bar rag. “It’s been a long morning already.”
Yeah. Long morning. That’s what it was. Had nothing to do with a wispy little Southern girl who’d made his gut go all twisty just by smiling, let alone inadvertently stripping.
“Your father all right?”
“As all right as he gets, yeah.” Jasper cleared his throat uncomfortably. “He wasn’t so into dodgeball this morning, but—you know. Tired, I guess.”
Tired…or declining.
In reality, his dad was one year post–dementia diagnosis, and changes that had been tiny and almost unnoticeable at first were becoming bigger and more frequent.
He was going with tired, though. He still couldn’t get a handle on the other.
He’d have happily paid whatever god was taking donations to give his father a physical ailment rather than this hellish, brain-melting sickness, but fate still had a bone to pick with him, apparently. A big effing triceratops-variety bone.
Gunnar didn’t speak—just looked at him. But then he nodded. “Everybody has their off days. I’m sure he’ll be better tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” Jasper shook his head, anxious to change the subject. “How are things out at Whisper Creek? You guys still full up?”
“Almost, but it’s back-to-school time, so it’ll be quieter soon.”
“Eh, you’ll still have the single ladies. They’ll be booking, hoping for warm nights by the fire with a rent-a-cowboy.”
“Eat shit, Stone.”
Jasper laughed. He knew Whisper Creek was just about the cleanest organization out here, despite the fact that the annual calendar featuring their own cowboys outsold every other item in their gift shop. Gunnar trained horses at the ranch when he wasn’t wrangling guests, or hiding away with his new wife.
Gunnar shook his head. “Anyway. I’ve got a beauty for you to try out. Might be just the one you’ve been looking for.”
“Yeah?”
“Sweet as hell, but she needs an experienced rider. Decker was hoping to put her on guest duty, but she’s not ready, and he can’t afford to be patient. Also can’t afford to feed her all winter if she isn’t going to work out, but I convinced him to keep her for a while—see if we could find somebody who might want her.”
“Not sure I’d have the time to work her like she’d need, honestly. But I appreciate you thinking of me for her.”
“I figured you’d say that.” Gunnar shrugged. “Just keep it in mind. We’ll keep her on for another month or so, at least. Come on out one of these days and check her out. Ma would love to see you.”
Jasper smiled as he pictured Ma, who had only two children of her own, but hundreds of people who now called her Ma. Head honcho of Whisper Creek alongside her sons Decker and Cole, she was a force to be reckoned with, but had a heart of pure marshmallow. Five years ago, the ranch had been a run-down property with zero prospects besides the auction block. Today, it was a bustling getaway with a waiting list twenty families long all summer.
Five years ago, only four souls had lived at the ranch, but somehow they’d managed to collect about thirty more over the past half-decade—some who just worked there, and more who had become family.
“Hey.” Gunnar tipped up his chin. “One of the guys is looking for some legal advice. Okay to send him your way?”
“Depends. What’d he do?”
“Came into some money. Wants to make sure his deadbeat sister can’t get at it.”
Jasper shook his head. “I’m not an attorney anymore.”
“Aren’t you still licensed in three states or something?”
“Not this one.” Jasper felt his gut clench. It was an old, familiar feeling—one he’d already been trying to exorcise long before Bridget had walked out the door—and it was just as uncomfortable now as it had been back then.
“Okay.” Gunnar shrugged. “Just thought I’d ask.”
“Send him over to Remington. She’s good.”
Jasper turned back toward the urns so Gunnar wouldn’t see whatever expression might be crossing his face, but Gunnar was already sliding off his stool, grabbing both coffees. “Well, I’d better get this back to Lexi before she thinks I fell off the road. Get your butt out to Whisper Creek and meet that horse.”
Jasper mock-saluted as Gunnar pushed through the plate-glass door and headed for his truck. He wiped up nonexistent water circles, then froze, a sudden vision of Emma’s creamy, smooth skin hitting him square in the chest.
“Hey, Jasper,” one of his regulars called. “What the hell’d you pour me here?”
Jasper took the cup and smelled it, knowing he’d pulled Liam’s favorite Sumatran.
Or not.
“Sorry, man. Fresh cup on its way.”
“If I didn’t know you better, I’d think there was a woman keeping you up nights.”
“Yeah, well…” Jasper handed him a new cup of coffee—the right kind, this time. “Not happening.”
Liam’s face got serious as his voice lowered, even though there were only three other people in the café, and they were clear across the room, sitting by the fireplace in back.
“Penance doesn’t have to be a lifelong sentence, you know.”
Jasper leveled Liam with a stare that had melted the resolve of many an opposing attorney, but his best friend didn’t even blink.
“Outta line, Liam.”
“If you say so.” Liam shrugged. “But I’m pretty sure you’ve paid your dues, buddy.”
“My dues are nobody’s concern but mine.” Jasper set his jaw, not proud of his tone, but seriously, what the hell was with everybody today?
“Okay.” Liam took his cup and tapped the counter. “But seriously. You gonna hang out here in this coffee shop by yourself till you’ve got more hair growing out your ears than on your head?”
“Maybe.”
“You are one animal shy of crazy-cat-lady, moron.”
“Noted.”
“Might be time. All I’m saying.”
“Thank you.” Jasper smiled tightly. “And now the advice window is closed for the week, so move along.”
Liam thumped the bar. “Think about it.”
Jasper gave a half-hearted yeah, sure wave, but he had no intention of thinking about it at all.
He knew where that kind of thinking got him.
And that was a deep, dark hole he had no intention of sliding down.
Chapter 4
“So that’s it! The ten-cent tour!” Katrina put up both hands with a flourish while Emma scribbled one more thing on her notepad. They’d been wandering the facility for two hours now, and Emma was pretty sure even with twelve weeks here, she’d never remember half the names of the staff and patients.
“Thank you.” She looked left and right but wasn’t sure where they now were in comparison to her—well,
Bette’s—office.
“Not sure how to get back home?” Katrina smiled. “Two lefts and a right.”
“Thanks.” Emma felt her cheeks flush. “I appreciate the tour.”
“Don’t worry. The layout’s only confusing for a couple of days. You’ll get the hang of it soon enough.”
“Well, luckily, I’ll be in the office most of the time, I imagine.”
Katrina nodded, but Emma could see a faint wrinkle develop between her eyebrows. “Sure. Of course.” Then she waved and turned to head back down the hallway they’d just traversed. “All right, back to work for me. Time to serve up some of Horace’s delicious lunch.”
Emma turned to head back to the lobby and the relative safety of her office, the quiver that had settled itself in her stomach Friday afternoon growing a tiny bit bigger as she surveyed the gleaming floors and pale peach walls of her temporary domain. She was, for all intents and purposes, actually in charge of this little operation, and though she’d always craved more responsibility, she’d never pictured it coming in this form.
She was in charge of all of these nurses, all of these LNAs, all of these patients.
Gah.
She hadn’t had nearly enough time to grasp this before she’d been boarding a plane, hastily packed luggage hopefully following her. And now she was here, and she was the boss, and she knew nothing about how this place ran from any other angle than the paperwork.
Katrina had been lovely on the tour. She’d been gracious, sweet, and welcoming—but also cautious. Duncan had mentioned how much the staff loved the real director, and the number of times Katrina had thrown Bette’s name out made that more than clear.
Yes, she had her work cut out for her, stepping into Bette’s apparently über-capable shoes. She just kept praying that nothing bad would happen on her watch.
Please nobody die, she repeated to the ceiling as she started walking back to her office.
Two lefts and a right later, she was firmly…in the dining room. And if she remembered correctly, that dining room was nowhere near her office. Great. Either Katrina had given faulty directions or she’d lost the ability to remember a series of three instructions.
If she got so easily lost, imagine how their dementia patients felt.
Taking a Chance Page 3
