She looked at him, unsmiling. “This was nice. Crazy nice. But don’t try to read anything too hearth and homey into it, okay? I’m only here for the summer. Even if my ankle isn’t healed enough to participate in Japan, my life—small and strange as it may seem—is back in L.A. And as much as I like your daughter, believe me, I’m doing Shiloh a favor by not pretending to be the motherly type. Are we clear on that?”
No. Not even close. But she didn’t wait for his answer. She touched the side of his face with a gesture that implied regret and left.
He stood there. Alone. His arms filled with towels that still retained a hint of their heat and the scent of their lovemaking.
Was he confused? Yes. Annoyed? Uh-huh. Sorry he’d had sex with her? Not for a second.
Was he content to leave things between them like this? Hell, no. Whether she liked it or not, they’d forged a connection. He could understand her reluctance to get involved for the long-term—hell, she hadn’t even met Buck. But he’d be damned if he’d let her hide behind her mother’s apparently ineffectual parenting skirts.
He started toward the house, the chill of the night seeping past the afterglow of their crazy-good sex. He shook his head and sighed. Man, he thought, if anyone deserved to be relationship gun-shy, it was him. He’d grown up with Buck for a dad, after all.
Cade could vividly remember his father and step-mom arguing. Inevitably his father would start stomping around in his big cowboy boots. Chairs would suddenly sprout wings and fly across a room. Cade would disappear—under a bed, into the far reaches of a closet—anywhere he could pretend to be an island of serenity in the midst of a hurricane called Buck.
Fortunately, he’d learned early in his marriage to Faith he couldn’t be provoked into those sorts of arguments. He might get upset, angry or deeply frustrated, but he never turned into his father.
Maybe, just maybe, he could help Jessie see that she wasn’t predisposed to be a clone of her mother, either. If he was upset at all, his ire was directed at Mrs. Bouchard. Where was this woman when her daughter needed her? Where was that Old South network of family he’d always heard about? The Bullies would have been in their teens when Jessie was hurt. Why didn’t they do more? And what about any aunts, uncles or grandparents? Someone should have been by that poor little girl’s side to hold her hand and comfort her when her mother couldn’t be present. And if, for whatever reason, her mother chose to be a single parent, why the hell hadn’t she made some sort of effort to provide a father figure for her daughter?
Wasn’t that, in essence, why he moved back to the Black Hills? Yes, he welcomed the chance to be his own boss and make amends with his father, but he also wanted Shiloh to be around Kat, to learn womanly things from her and go to her with questions Shiloh might feel strange asking him.
Jessie’s mother had failed her daughter, in his opinion. Naturally, he couldn’t say that to Jessie. No kid wanted to hear his or her parent criticized. That even held true for Cade where Buck was concerned.
He paused at the corner of the house and stared at the pool a moment. As he’d told his sister, Buck’s instincts had been spot-on where this was concerned. He was looking forward to hosting a party this weekend and actually felt sorry Buck wouldn’t be here to attend it. His father would have treasured the validation. And, now that he was sober, maybe everyone else could have a good time, too, without worrying about the ticking time bomb in the room, waiting for that last, incendiary whiskey to set him off.
Cade shrugged and resumed walking. No, on second thought, why risk it? Buck was where he needed to be and Cade was getting along fine without him.
“I ASKED HIM.”
“Good girl, Kat. Your brother needs to get shook out of his safety zone now and then. Always has.”
Kat’s chuckle made Buck feel warm inside. He might have screwed up six ways of hell where his other kids were concerned but somehow Kat had turned out better than Buck or Helen had any right to hope.
“I think you’re wrong about Cade, Dad. He’s extremely generous. And rock solid. You should have seen the way he came to Jessie’s rescue the other day. My brother only knows one mode—hero.”
Buck cocked his head to think. Hero. Not a word anyone would ever associate with him. Maybe he’d done better than he’d thought by the boy. “Are you telling me you think there might be something going on between Cade and this girl?”
Kat’s laughter echoed off the walls of his small, monklike room. “Girl? Dad, Shiloh is a girl. Jessie is a successful, sought-after stuntwoman,” she said, emphasizing the last word clearly. “She’s also beautiful in a very ungirly way and from what Shiloh tells me, Jessie doesn’t take you-know-what from anybody—your son included. He’d be crazy not to fall for her, but, at the same time, she’s made it clear her career comes first.”
“Like Faith.” The daughter-in-law Buck never got to know.
Kat’s sigh didn’t sound overly worried. “Maybe superficially. But trust me, Dad, Jessie isn’t anything like Faith.”
The tension in Buck’s shoulders relaxed a bit. Maybe he’d give that yoga class a try after all. It didn’t hurt that the instructor was a lovely, silver-haired lady with a kind smile.
“Good. I’ll leave it in Cade’s hands, then. Thanks for taking my call tonight, Kat. I was a little homesick.”
“Dad, you know how I feel about your self-imposed exile. Mom would be rolling over in her grave if she wasn’t in an urn on my mantle at the moment. She was as much to blame for what went wrong in your marriage as you were. Divorces happen. Get over it.”
He chuckled softly. “Sounds like a bumper sticker I saw the other day. All right, I’ll try to forgive myself. Now, you go tend to that husband of yours so the D-word doesn’t happen again.”
“Never,” she vowed. “Not me and Jack. We’re the real deal. It just took me a couple of tries to get it right. ’Night, Dad. Sleep well.”
Buck turned off his phone and smiled. He might not have been a good husband, but Kat was proof he wasn’t a total screwup as a father. If she could forgive him, maybe there was a chance his son would, too.
“HOW WAS IT?”
Jessie nearly dropped her coffee mug—the one that said Cowboys Rock. She’d almost forgotten today was her sister’s first day on the new job until she turned and saw Remy walking toward her, completely dressed and ready to head off to work. “How was what?”
“Your swim last night?” Remy said, grabbing a banana from the bowl of fruit on the counter. “I tried to stay awake to make sure you didn’t drown or something, but I was so tired I crashed.”
“Oh. It was fine.” The truth. The swim was completely unremarkable. Her interlude with Cade, however, was something she still hadn’t wrapped her head around. And didn’t plan to share with her sister.
As she peeled the banana, Remy said, “I had a dream about you and Mama.”
“A nightmare, huh? I’m sorry.”
Remy took a bite and chewed a moment. “It wasn’t a bad dream. It simply made no sense. You were standing off in the distance and Mom was calling to you. Over and over. I don’t know if you were ignoring her or you couldn’t hear for some reason.”
“That makes perfect sense. She always said I never listened to her. Are you sure it was me?”
“Of course it was you. You think I don’t know my own twin? Besides, she said your name. She said, ‘Jessie, I’m sorry.’”
Jessie hated those kinds of dreams. They seemed too simple. Too pat. She wasn’t even completely certain her sister didn’t make them up as a way of manipulating her family.
“So,” she said, changing the subject, “is that what you’re wearing to work?” Her sister was a skirt-or-dress sort of girl, not jeans and a ratty T-shirt.
“Kat texted me last night. This is a work detail. She said to dress grubby. This is the grubbiest I’ve got. She also said we’re invited to a barbecue and pool party on Saturday. I wonder what we should make. Something Cajun?”
Jessie shrugged.
“That’s your department.”
Remy shook her half-eaten banana at Jessie. “You can cook every bit as well as me, Jess. You simply pretend you can’t. You have to admit that’s one thing Mama did right with us girls.”
Jessie didn’t argue the point—it truly didn’t matter whether or not Marlene Bouchard taught her daughters how to make moist cornbread. Mom hadn’t been around when Jessie needed her and that was the one thing Jessie remembered above all the other lessons Mom might have preferred she point to as her legacy.
Remy squinted at the clock on the microwave. “Ooh. I’ve gotta dash. I need to stop for gas on the way.” She looked at Jessie and made a face. “What happened to Miss Awake-at-the-Butt-Crack-of-Dawn today? You need to get dressed, girlfriend. Take it from someone who tried and failed. That school bus driver doesn’t respond to a flirtatious smile. She doesn’t wait for anybody,” she called, racing out the door, purse in hand.
Jessie was moving a little slowly this morning. Probably because she’d spent way too much of the night worrying about whether or not she’d made a mistake. And the fact that she was stewing over—not celebrating—her fabulous encounter with Cade bothered her all the more. She’d made a pretty good effort to live her life the way she wanted without apology or fear. Until lately.
She managed to make it to the garage on time and was ridiculously disappointed to find Shiloh waiting by herself. No Cade.
“Where’s your dad?”
Shiloh shrugged. “He leaves before the sun comes up some mornings. But he always has breakfast sitting out for me. Fuel for the brain, he calls it.” She made a face, but she looked proud, too.
“He’s right. I get up, do yoga, then eat.” The only person on their team who didn’t join the others for breakfast when they were at an event was Zane. He claimed to follow a secret dietary regimen that he planned to take public someday and make his fortune.
Shiloh got in the passenger seat and fastened her seat belt without being asked. Jessie backed out slowly, getting a feel for the truck. Although big and ungainly looking, the truck drove like a luxury car, but she quickly figured out it had the get-up-and-go of an oxcart. They’d been ambling along the gravel road for about five minutes when Shiloh said, “How come you don’t have a boyfriend?”
“Who said I don’t?”
“Remy. She said the last guy you dated turned out to be a schmuck. I like that word.”
“Me, too. But J.T. wasn’t completely to blame. We sorta went out to make his mother happy.”
“Are moms supposed to do that? Set you up with boys? What if you don’t have one? A mom, I mean,” she quickly added.
The slight panic in her voice made Jessie want to reach across the bench seat and give her a one-arm hug. She didn’t. “No, no, no. Believe me, mothers can mean well and think they’re helping, but ask Remy how much our mother helped her high school romance.” She felt a little guilty bringing up the subject, which had been terribly dramatic and traumatic at the time, but obviously Remy felt no hesitation when it came to gossiping about other people’s lives so turnabout was fair play.
“I will. She’s funny. She talks a lot about your family and growing up in the South. My English teacher would probably say Remy doesn’t have all her filters in place.”
Jessie had to press her lips together to keep from laughing out loud.
“Your career is really important to you, right?”
Jessie nodded, wondering where this was taking them.
“Would you ever consider giving it up if you were in love and the guy asked you to?”
Jessie was afraid to think what that might mean. Had her dad said something to Shiloh about Jessie’s career? Or was this a holdover from Shiloh’s mother’s job and tragic death?
“Well, I’d like to hope that wouldn’t be an issue. If the guy loved me, too, he wouldn’t want to change me, right?” But Jessie knew from experience that was an altruistic dream relationship. The problem came up all the time when you worked in a profession that was widely considered a man’s job.
Changing the subject, she asked Shiloh, “Do you know how to drive?”
“Sorta. Ranch kids learn things like that early, but I’ve never driven out on the road. Liability, Dad says.”
“I’m sure he’s right. But I don’t see why you couldn’t practice on the way home from school every day. Practice makes perfect, right?”
“You’d let me? Really?” Shiloh cried, her voice shrill with excitement. “OMG. I can’t wait to tell Hunter. I—I mean…my friends.”
Hunter. A certain friend has a name.
Jessie nosed the truck toward the shelter that had been built to the left of where the private road intersected the highway. A row of mailboxes, presumably belonging to houses across the road from the ranch, angled off in the other direction. They were a few minutes early, but the terrain was flat enough that Jessie could see a bright yellow vehicle a mile or so away.
She killed the engine. “I don’t have a problem with you driving, but since this is your grandpa’s truck, I will have to ask your dad’s permission. I don’t see why that would be a problem. Your driveway seems like a pretty safe place to learn. The worst that could happen is you’d get turned sideways in the gravel, but you’ll be fine if you take it slow. You have to learn sometime, right?”
“That’s what Grandpa told Dad, but Dad said it was up to him to decide when that was.” Her expression looked far from optimistic.
“Hmm,” Jessie said, hearing the roar of the bus motor approach. “Maybe we’ll try the Jessie Bouchard method, then. Assume the answer is yes until you hear a no.”
Shiloh clapped excitedly. “Really? Oh, Jessie, you’re the best. Thank you. See you after school.”
Moments later, her young charge was safely aboard the bus, waving through the dusty glass. Jessie waited until the bus was out of sight before attempting a three-point turn to head to the ranch. Her ankle was throbbing by the time she parked and walked into the house.
She realized she’d forgotten to take her pain medication and was on her way to her bedroom when she spotted a flashing light on the answering machine. The phone line was in Buck Garrity’s name.
Oh, well, she thought, it’s not for me.
She’d barely taken a step when the phone rang. As far as she knew, the only people who had this number were friends or family interested in talking to Buck and more than likely knew he was out of town for the summer. But the flashing light prompted her to act. If someone had called more than once, maybe something was wrong. Maybe the caller was Cade.
“Garrity Ranch, Jessie speaking.”
Silence.
“Hello?”
She could hear someone breathing. A crank call this early in the morning? Maybe a robocall gone bad, she thought. She started to hang up the receiver when a voice said, “You lucky bitch. That must mean the wrong twin was behind the wheel.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE LINE DISCONNECTED WITH a menacing snap.
A shiver raced down Jessie’s spine as adrenaline coursed through her body. Remy had grabbed Jessie’s Girlz on Fire ball cap on her way out the door. From a distance they’d be indistinguishable.
Whoever this caller was, he’d done something to Remy, thinking he’d reached his real target: Jessie.
She snatched up the keys and raced back to the truck. As she hauled herself into the cab, she heard a voice call out, “Jessie, wait. Where are you going? Can we talk?”
She frantically rolled down the window. “There was a call on your dad’s line. I think something’s happened to Remy. Something bad. I have to find her.”
Cade charged across the driveway. “Move over. I’ll drive.”
She didn’t bother protesting. Her ankle was throbbing. She hadn’t had a chance to grab her pills. She needed his help.
“Who called? What did they say?”
“A man. He said something about the wrong twin being behind the wheel. Remy drove my car this morning and she was wearing
my ball cap.”
“Why didn’t he call your cell?”
She fastened her seat belt. “Maybe he thought he’d reach Remy. To tell her I was dead or something,” she answered, grabbing at straws. The panic she’d initially felt blossomed into a really bad feeling.
“Did you recognize his voice?”
She shook her head. “No. The sound was distorted. Like one of those voice-altering devices you see in the movies.”
Movies.
“It was Zane.”
“How can you be sure? You said it was altered.”
She grabbed the armrest to keep from sliding across the bench seat into Cade when the truck fishtailed on the gravel. He drove like a pro, making every turn exactly the way she would have if this was a choreographed stunt.
“Zane has always bragged about stealing props from sets that he worked on. Little things that wouldn’t be missed. He called it gleaning. One of the things he mentioned came from a spy movie,” she said, meaningfully.
“Got it.” Cade swore under his breath. “Does Remy have her phone with her?”
Jessie pulled hers out of the pocket of her sweatshirt and hit Remy’s number on speed dial. The call went straight to voice mail. “She doesn’t leave it on because service is so sketchy around here. Do you have Jack’s number? Maybe this is a false alarm. If she made it to work safely…” Please God. Please let her be okay.
Cade flipped up his little belt holster and handed his phone to her. “Number’s listed. It’s a dead zone through here but you should have service as soon as we get on the highway. Do you know which way she took to Sentinel Pass?”
“No.” Jessie opened the phone and found the number. “I only know the way we took to the clinic. Is there another road?”
He nodded. “A shortcut. Less traffic but very winding, and—” He hesitated before continuing. “It has some serious drop-offs. If she went that way, we’re going to need backup.”
Jessie gulped. They’d reached the same spot she’d left a few minutes earlier. Cade turned onto the shoulder of the road and waited. “Try Jack.”
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