He’d just entered the waiting area when Brooke and Carter emerged from the exam room. A white bandage covered the laceration on her forehead, and her face had regained some of its color. Her midnight blue gaze met his.
“Hey, how’re you feeling?”
“Better. I’ll be good as new once I shower and get some sleep.”
Carter frowned. “You need to take it easy for a while, Brooke. You have a concussion and bruised ribs. Take the painkillers and make sure June checks on you regularly tonight.”
She smiled at the doctor. “Knowing Grandma June, she won’t let me out of her sight.”
“Good.”
Dillon stepped forward and took her arm. “Come sit down. The sheriff wants to ask you a few questions before I take you home. Do you remember Harley Boone?”
She nodded and sat gingerly on the edge of the couch. “Hello, sheriff.”
He gave her an easy smile. “I won’t keep you long. Can you tell me what happened?”
Her lips tightened. “I was driving slowly, thank God, because I couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of the car. A woman dashed out onto the road. I swerved to miss her and hit a tree. The next thing I remember is Dillon looking down at me.”
“If you’d been going any faster, the impact would have done a lot more damage to both you and the car,” Dillon said. “As it is, the front end of your Subaru is totaled.”
She winced and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “I figured as much.”
Harley cleared his throat. “Are you sure you saw a woman? Couldn’t it have been an animal or maybe a falling tree branch that startled you?”
“It was a woman. I saw her face. She had dark hair, and she screamed when my car came at her.” She shuddered. “I was so afraid I was going to hit her. I’ve never been that scared in my life.”
Dillon touched her arm. “Relax, Brooke. You didn’t hit her.”
“A deputy is out there now, and we’ll check the scene thoroughly as soon as it’s light. Is there anything else you can tell me?”
She looked up at the sheriff, strain etched in the lines around her full lips. “She was wearing something long and white. I’m sorry I don’t have a better description, but I only caught a glimpse of her.”
He slipped his notebook into the pocket of his uniform jacket. “That’s fine. If you didn’t hit her, there’s no reason to pursue the matter further. Thanks for your time, Brooke, and welcome back to Woodvale. Are you staying long?”
She stood, swaying. Dillon grasped her elbow to steady her. “Actually, I’ll be living with Grandma June indefinitely.”
He stared. “Seriously? June didn’t tell me you were moving in.”
“It was a recent decision on my part.”
Carter smiled. “Hey, that’s terrific.”
Her answering smile looked worn.
Dillon ushered her toward the door. “Thanks for the first aid, Doc.”
“I was happy to help. Don’t forget to drop by next week, Brooke, so I can check those stitches.”
“I won’t forget.” She stopped and turned. “I can’t leave yet. Surely there’s paperwork to fill out and your bill to pay.”
“You can take care of it with my receptionist the next time you’re here.”
“Good idea. You look ready to drop,” Dillon said, opening the door. When they reached the truck, he helped her in and then hurried around to the driver’s side. Pausing beside the police cruiser, he glanced over at the sheriff who’d followed them outside. “Any word on Tricia Eaton?”
Harley frowned and shook his head. “She hasn’t been in touch with her mother. Looks like that son of a bitch she was living with hit her one too many times, and she took off.”
“It’s strange she didn’t take any of her stuff with her.”
“I know, and I’ll admit I’m concerned. It’s been several days since her mother reported her missing. The police in Crescent City are keeping a close eye on the boyfriend, but there’s no evidence of a crime. It seems Tricia simply left town.”
Dillon met Harley’s worried gaze. “Let me know if you hear anything.”
He nodded, and his jaw clenched. “I will.”
****
Brooke turned her head on the back of the seat when Dillon climbed into the truck. The dome light shone down on his chestnut hair and green-flecked golden eyes. Cat eyes. He reminded her of a mountain lion, strong and sleek and dangerous. She shivered.
He shut the door, and the light went out. “Are you cold?”
“A little. Dillon, thank you so much for everything. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”
He started the engine and turned up the heat. “I’m glad I came along when I did.”
“I hope no one was expecting you. You weren’t driving around at night in the fog without a reason.” She let out a breath. “God, I’m an idiot. I’m sorry for keeping you so long.”
“No one was expecting me. I had a dinner meeting with a mill owner in Crescent City, and it ran late.” He turned off the main street onto a side road. Beyond the headlight beams, the night was black. He grinned at her. “I wasn’t on my way to a hot date, more’s the pity.”
Her face heated, and she was thankful for the darkness. “I wasn’t fishing.”
“I’m teasing you.”
“What about your son?”
“Zack is spending the night at his great-grandpa’s cabin. I had a feeling my meeting would drag on until well past his bedtime.”
“How is Jesse?”
“Grandpa is the same as always. Most of the locals think he’s crazier than a loon, but he’s good with Zack.”
He pulled up in front of her grandmother’s rambling, Victorian house. The outdoor light was on, revealing peeling white paint and a listing front porch.
Regret stole her breath and brought tears to her eyes. “I should have come sooner. I should have been here for Grandma after Gramps died. I was so busy with my own life, my own problems...”
Dillon turned to face her. “It looks worse than it is. Except for the support beam on the porch, most of the repairs are cosmetic. I’ve been after June for weeks to let me shore up the porch for her.”
“I’ll see to it right away.”
He touched her arm. “I hope you don’t mind that I called your mother. June seemed to be struggling to make ends meet, and I thought her daughter should know.”
“I’m thankful you did. None of us have been around much since Gramps’ funeral. Grandma didn’t want us to come. She drove down to the Bay Area to visit over the holidays and didn’t say a word about money problems. Christmas was only a month and a half ago.” Her fist clenched on the seat. “I should have made sure she was doing okay financially.”
“You’re here now, and I’m happy you don’t think I overstepped my bounds.”
“You’ve been a good friend to her, Dillon. I’m grateful.”
“It works both ways. I don’t know how I would manage if she didn’t watch Zack for me after school.” He jerked his head toward the house. “Enough chit-chat, let’s get you inside.”
She opened the door and slid out of the truck. Pain shot through her side, and she gasped.
He took her arm. “Easy does it.”
“I’m okay. Can you let Otis out?”
He unlatched the rear passenger door, and the dog exploded through the opening, knocking Brooke into his arms. She leaned into his chest. His jacket was unzipped, the flannel of his shirt warm against her cheek. A button pressed into her jaw as his arms tightened.
“Is he part moose?”
Brooke looked up at him. “What?”
“Your dog.”
She smiled. “Otis is a cross between an Irish wolfhound and a Great Dane. There may be a little Saint Bernard and blood hound mixed in there, too. He’s a good boy.”
“I’ll take your word for it. Come inside. You’re practically dead on your feet.”
With his hand at her elbow, she climbed the porch steps. Lights fla
shed on, and the front door opened. June Ransome stepped out, her smile fading as she regarded her granddaughter.
“Dear Lord, what happened?”
“I’m all right, Grandma. I hit a tree, but it didn’t get the better of me.”
She clucked her tongue. “Come sit down this minute.”
Brooke followed her through the entry hall into the front parlor. She eased down onto a settee upholstered in pink cabbage roses. End tables strewn with dainty knick-knacks were scattered about the room, and a braided oval wool rug covered the hardwood floor. “I really am fine.”
June touched Brooke’s blood-matted hair, and her lips quivered. Tears sprang into her faded blue eyes. “What happened?”
“I hit a tree a couple of miles out of town. Dillon found me and insisted I get checked out by the doctor.” She looked over at him and smiled. “He wouldn’t bring me home until I did, even when I argued.”
“I’m thankful he showed such good sense.”
Dillon cleared his throat. “I’ll bring in your bags and be on my way.”
“What did Doctor Shaw say?” June asked as he left the room.
“I have a mild concussion and bruised ribs. He put a couple of stitches in my forehead where I hit it on the steering wheel. It really could have been a lot worse.” She squeezed her grandmother’s hand. It felt as delicate as a bird’s wing in her grip.
“It sounds bad enough. You must be exhausted. Can you manage the stairs? I imagine you’d like a shower before you go to bed. And how about a nice cup of tea?” Her anxious eyes studied Brooke.
“Tea would be lovely, and I’m perfectly capable of climbing stairs. Don’t fuss, Grandma.”
“I’ll fuss if I want to.” She bustled out to the hall, her small figure swallowed up by an old chenille bathrobe. Long white hair hung in a thick braid down her back.
Dillon entered through the open front door, followed by Otis. June stopped. “I’d forgotten about that dog.”
He grinned. “Wishful thinking, no doubt.”
“Not at all. I’m rather fond of him.” She patted Otis’s head. “You can take the bags up, Dillon. Leave them in the back bedroom on the right.”
Brooke followed him up the stairs, holding tightly to the turned mahogany hand rail. Her ribs ached, and her head throbbed. When she reached her room, she dropped onto the puffy lavender comforter.
He set down the suitcases and turned. “You look like crap.”
She grimaced. “Thanks.”
He stepped forward and touched her cheek. “Does your head ache?”
His touch seared her skin, but it didn’t alleviate the pounding in her head. “God, yes.”
His hand dropped, and his lips curved in a smile. “Take some of the pain medication Carter gave you.”
“I will.” She studied his face, noting the fine lines at the corners of his eyes and the creases in his forehead. “You look tired, too. Go home, Dillon.”
“I’m on my way.” He squeezed her hand. “Take care of yourself.”
She listened to his footsteps as he descended the stairs. The front door closed. Mindful of her ribs, she let out a breath.
Time hadn’t affected the way her pulse raced when Dillon was near. The lanky boy with the quick grin she remembered from adolescence had turned into a gorgeous man who heated her blood with a single glance from his sexy, golden eyes. She shivered. Having the hots for Dillon Tremayne wasn’t part of her game plan.
June hurried in, carrying a steaming mug. “Here you go, dear. I made chamomile. It should help you sleep.”
She took the mug. “Thanks, Grandma.”
“It’s late, and I know you want to get cleaned up.” She stroked her hair. “I’ll be in to check on you after you’re settled.”
“Grandma, you don’t have to stay up. I’ll be fine.”
“I wouldn’t sleep for worrying.” Her smile shook. “I’m so happy you’re here, dear girl.”
She stood and kissed her grandmother’s soft cheek. Like the room, it smelled of lavender. “I am, too. I’m going to get out of these filthy clothes now and take a shower.”
After her grandmother left the room, Brooke washed down two pain pills with a swallow of tea and stripped off her clothes. She pulled her robe out of the larger of the suitcases and shrugged into it. In the bathroom, she turned the water on as hot as she could stand it and stood under the shower with her head bowed. The needle sharp spray felt heavenly. After several long minutes, she soaped her body and carefully washed her hair. Pink water swirled down the drain of the old claw footed tub.
She was lucky she hadn’t been seriously injured. She was lucky she hadn’t killed the woman in the road. Remembering her terrified expression, she felt a tug of recognition. Something about her dark eyes and pointed face pulled at her memory.
Shrugging, she jerked aside the flowered shower curtain, stepped out of the tub, and wrapped herself in a big, pink towel. Possibly the woman was a local, someone she’d passed on the street on a previous visit. It didn’t matter who she was because she hadn’t hit her. Thank God I didn’t hit her.
Leaving her hair hanging damply down her back, she left the bathroom. An old Donald Duck nightlight lit the long wool runner on the hallway floor. Her grandmother’s welcoming touch. In her room, she eased an oversized T-shirt over her head and snapped off the bedroom light. Pulling back the comforter, she crawled into bed and sighed. The fresh sheets were cool and crisp against her skin.
She drifted in a haze, her pain numbed by the pills and the comfort of being in her grandmother’s house. Thoughts of Dillon stole through her mind. She pictured his concerned golden eyes staring into hers, and her lips curved. Warmth spread, easing the physical aches. Dulling the pain in her heart.
Chapter Two
“Do those papers make sense to you?” June asked. She hovered beside Brooke’s chair, frowning at the bank documents spread across the dining room table.
Brooke planted her elbows on the polished oak surface, closed her eyes, and rubbed her temples. If the numbers on the bank statement didn’t give her a headache, her grandmother’s oversized, tie-dyed T-shirt would. “Your checking account is overdrawn. I thought you said money was automatically transferred from your investment account every month.”
“The deposits have been getting smaller and smaller.” June plucked at her long, cotton skirt. “I don’t know why. Eli always handled our finances. Before he died he told me he invested the money from the sale of the company, and I wouldn’t have to worry about a thing.”
“Gramps sold his half of Big Timber Logging to Dillon a few months before he died, right?”
She nodded. “He didn’t want the burden of managing the company placed on me. Since Ardelle and Matthew weren’t interested in running Big Timber, it made sense to let Dillon buy him out.”
Brooke pictured her parents in their loafers and blazers, walking hand in hand across the U.C. Berkeley campus where they taught. “No, Mom and Dad wouldn’t know what to do with Big Timber.”
“And James is busy with his oceanography research in Monterey, and Neila is still in law school.”
She winced. Her siblings, at least, had legitimate excuses for their negligence. “I, on the other hand, was too selfishly absorbed in my relationship with Gavin to be of any use.”
June squeezed her shoulder. “Your grandpa never expected you to take up a career in logging.”
“Why not? I’ve tried everything else.”
“Someday soon you’ll discover your true passion.”
“Well it certainly isn’t accounting, but from the looks of these reports, Grandpa’s investments aren’t doing very well. They took a huge hit when the bottom fell out of the stock market, and they haven’t recovered the way they should have.”
“What does that mean?” June asked, her voice quavering.
“It means we should start by getting some advice on reinvesting your capital while you still have something to invest. Secondly, you need income to live on.”
Her blue eyes widened behind the silver frames of her reading glasses. “Am I going to have to work in the Thrift-Mart in Crescent City greeting people the way those other senior citizens do?”
Brooke choked on her coffee and lowered the cup to the table. “I don’t think you’ll have to resort to that. At least I hope not.”
Her grandmother sighed. “That’s a relief. I’m not overly fond of the Thrift-Mart store, though they do get a nice selection of potted flowers in the spring.”
She scooped the papers into a neat stack. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to mail these to Dad. He’ll know what to do about your investments. Then I’m going to transfer some money into your account to cover the checks you wrote last week. But first I’d like to discuss an idea of mine.”
Tears filled June’s eyes. “I knew I could count on you, honey. By all means, send those awful papers to Matthew, and tell me your idea.”
Brooke took a deep breath. “What do you think of turning your house into a bed and breakfast? I did a little research, and it looks like the chamber of commerce is really pushing to increase the local tourist trade. I called the owner of the Woodvale Inn before I left San Francisco. He said they’re always full during the summer, and the spring and fall seasons are picking up. I think we could make a success of it.”
June dropped into a chair. “My goodness, I don’t know if I have the energy for such an enterprise. The house needs a little work. Dillon has been nagging me about the front porch.”
“I’d be here to handle the repairs and get the permits we’ll need.”
“You mean you aren’t planning on going home?” Her eyes rounded with hope.
Brooke’s grip tightened on the bank statement. “What home? I moved out of Gavin’s apartment after we called off the wedding. I’ve been staying with Mom and Dad, trying to figure out what to do with myself. I quit my job at the bakery before I left town. Getting up at four in the morning was killing me.”
“I don’t know why you took that job in the first place.”
“I like to bake, and I wanted a complete change from the art gallery.” She pressed her lips together. “I’ll admit it was an impulsive decision.”
A Deadly Love Page 2
