by Alisha Rai
“I’m wondering what remote cabin I can go hide in until this all blows over.” Her smile was wobbly.
He stared at her for a minute. “Is that really what you want?”
“Yes . . . I—”
Before she could finish, Jas rose to his feet and walked away to a corner of the garden, pulling his phone out of his pocket. She watched him for a moment, but turned her attention to Jia when the younger woman gently took her water out of her hand and set it on the ground. “Do you want me to call Rhiannon?”
“No. She’s still in the air.” Rhiannon would rush back, and Katrina didn’t want that. She’d put on a convincing show when Rhiannon had left that morning, even if most of her brain had been on the likes racking up on that post.
What Rhiannon was working on was an important next step for Crush. What kind of partner would Katrina be if she distracted the CEO from their business plan? How was that looking out for the good of the company?
Jia nodded. “What about your therapist?”
“It’s a little late for her.” Besides, Andy wouldn’t tell Katrina what to do, but she’d make her think, and Katrina was so tired of thinking.
Jas ended his call, walked back, and crouched in front of her again. “How do you feel about going up north? It would be about a seven-hour car ride, with no stops.”
Perhaps she may have to think a little more tonight. “Wait, are you serious? Where would we go?”
“To my family’s place.”
“The Bay Area?” Katrina had never met his parents or his younger brother, but she knew his parents were teachers who lived in a suburb.
“No, my grandpa’s farm, north of Sacramento. I have a small house on the land.”
“You grew up on a farm?” Jia’s tone was incredulous, and it matched what Katrina’s reaction had been the first time Jas had told her about his family farm in Yuba City years ago. With his pressed clothes and buffed nails and groomed beard, Jas didn’t look like a farmer at all, yet he still went there at least once a month.
As tight-lipped as he was, some information inevitably leaked through.
Jas didn’t take his gaze off Katrina’s face but answered Jia. “Yes. It’s remote. Quiet. The house is nice, isolated, even from the rest of the farm. My grandpa’s out of the country right now, so no one would question us being there.” He held up his fingers, counting each point off. “If the internet figures out who you are, and if they somehow trace you to your house, you wouldn’t be here. You’d be in a place no one would connect to you. No need to worry about bogeymen.”
Huh.
She’d grown up in a suburb, and then had lived purely in large cities. She thought now of what a farm meant. Trees, maybe a barn. A small kitchen with a gas stove, hopefully. Cute woodland creatures.
Solitude. Solitude and total anonymity.
The words buried in her soul, the exact thing she needed right now.
Plus you’d get to see where Jas grew up.
Personal information about the man would always be tantalizing, even if she was preoccupied with a crisis. “We’d be alone?”
“Yes. We can stay as long as you’d like.”
We. That we was extraordinarily comforting to hear.
She wrapped her arms around herself. Was she actually considering this?
She checked in on herself. Yeah, she was. The thought of leaving the house felt right, the same way not leaving the house often felt right. If it didn’t work out, she could always come back. It could be a good exercise.
For you. Not for Jas. “It’s a long ride.”
“We’ve driven at least that long round-trip. I’ll be there with you. We can turn around if you find it unbearable.”
“I’m not talking about me, I’m concerned about you.” She could always knock herself out. What she couldn’t do was drive. The thought of having an attack behind the wheel had terrified her so much, she’d never learned how. “If we were to, perhaps, leave in the morning—”
He cut her off. “No, I’d rather leave now. No traffic.”
Damn it. She was relatively new to driving in California, but even she knew all plans revolved around traffic patterns. “You’d have to be up for most of the night.”
His brown eyes darkened. “I don’t require a lot of sleep.”
“You’ll be exhausted.”
“Where’s that robot car when you need it,” Jia quipped. “Seriously, though, I can come with, and we can switch off.”
“That’s unnecessary,” Jas said quickly. So quickly, Katrina wondered if there was something she didn’t know about Jia’s driving.
Jas crossed his arms over his chest. “Katrina, I have stayed up much longer than a few hours and the longer we stand here arguing, the later it will get.”
She inhaled the slightly smoky air. Someone on the hilltop must have their fireplace going. It felt odd to disagree with Jas like this. They were usually in agreement. “No.”
They stared at each other silently for a long moment. Jas blinked first. “What if I promise to stop and rest if I get tired?”
Then they’d have to stay in a hotel, which would make her fret, but she’d figure something out, if it meant he could sleep. “Fine. You have to keep that promise.” She gave him a hard look. “I mean it.”
“Done. Pack a bag. I’ll make the arrangements.”
“I can help you pack,” Jia volunteered. “And I’ll watch Zeus. Give her oodles of cuddles.”
Katrina would have liked to take Zeus with her, but it was better the cat stay with Jia. Zeus hadn’t spent a lot of time in cars, except for the few vet visits Gerald had taken her to, and the report Katrina had gotten from her grim housekeeper was that the animal wasn’t fond of her carrier. She assumed he’d been understating the situation, as was his British style. “Thank you.” She came to her feet.
Jas caught her elbow, and this time she felt it. The zing. Still muffled, but clearer than before. “Everything will be fine,” he said. His face was so familiar, his dark eyes steady. She clutched that steadiness to her, using it to ground her.
She nodded once and forced a smile. Yes. She would disregard the one-sided zing. She’d cling to that solid assurance. It was a surer bet. Everything will be fine.
Chapter Seven
THE SKY HAD turned light blue, the sun kissing the far-off horizon, by the time Jas finally turned down a dirt road so familiar he could have driven it blindfolded and backward.
This was the road where he’d learned to drive: first a tractor, then a car. This was also the first place he’d ever kissed a girl, Rani from Sacramento, in said first car.
He kept his gaze straight ahead, though it strayed now and then to the fruit trees that lined the path, his family’s bread and butter. The bread and butter of so many of the families that lived in this town. In an hour or so, people would be out in the orchard. Harvest season was long over, and the trees were bare now, silently prepping for the next season, but there was still work to be done. The work was never finished on a farm, though it changed every month.
He blinked to wet his eyes, dried out from the air blowing from the vents. He’d only stopped once throughout the drive, and he was feeling it.
He came to a fork in the road, then turned right, then left, and there it was. The house was just as he remembered it from the last time he saw it, a two-story wooden structure. Big enough to raise a family and a couple of kids. Nikka ghar, they’d called it, growing up. The little house.
Jas turned off the engine and grabbed a bottle of water from the bag in the passenger seat. He glanced in the rearview mirror.
Katrina had been silent for the first hour of the drive, the tension radiating off her in waves, but thankfully that frenzied anxiety that had gripped her in her kitchen had vanished. She’d either taken a pill or run herself down, because she’d fallen asleep the second hour in and hadn’t stirred since.
He got out of the car and stretched, groaning. He placed his hands on his hips and glanced around. All w
as still and quiet.
And familiar. So familiar his back teeth ached.
Had it been just yesterday morning that he’d wished he could run away from worrying about McGuire and his own impending exposure? How ironic, to run away to the one place he’d once run from.
He gazed up at the no-frills house. It wasn’t exactly small, as the name would suggest. His great-grandparents had envisioned multiple generations living here. Multiple generations had lived here. The farm hadn’t truly taken off until he was ten or so. They’d lived here until the big house was built, his family of four, his grandparents, his mom, and him.
It had been comfortably full. Each of the three bedrooms had an attached bathroom, and the living room and kitchen were of a decent size, though nothing like what Katrina was used to. A wide porch wrapped around the front, with two rocking chairs his great-grandmother had bought still sitting right up front, the wood weathered by time.
He crouched and touched the soil. The dirt clung to his fingers.
Home. There was pain, yes, but also love.
The second Jas had had the idea to come here, his gut had told him it was the right move. As he’d driven through the night, he’d grown more sure. They could both run away. Two birds with one stone.
His grandpa wasn’t in the country. He could stick close to the little house, and none of the employees would come this far west, to a nonworking part of the farm.
Jas dusted his hands off and rose. He’d get to help Katrina and satisfy that craving to see his home without actually having to deal with the biggest issues that came with it. A win for everyone.
He’d called his stepbrother to tell him they were coming and asked him to keep it under wraps. Bikram was the foreman, though he was only twenty-five. Unlike Jas, his little brother ate, slept, and breathed this farm and this little town. Ideally, Bikram wouldn’t let his presence here slip to their parents. He didn’t want his mom to get her hopes up.
Jas surveyed the heavy growth of trees that shielded the little house from view. He’d arranged for a 24/7 security detail. The first shift should be arriving soon, and the guards would stay out of sight. He’d told Katrina about the arrangement during their trip so she wouldn’t be worried if she spied them.
He exhaled, his breath fogging in the cold early morning air. October was so much colder here than it was in Southern California. The cold wind blew through the valley, right through his thin cotton long-sleeved shirt. He’d packed warmer clothes, but he might have to borrow a heavier jacket from his brother as well.
He couldn’t be grouchy about the weather. His knee might grow stiff soon, but the cold was his old friend, enveloping him in an icy hug, much kinder to him than the sun had ever been.
Jas opened the back door of the car and bent down. His hand hovered above Katrina’s shoulder, unwilling to take even the slightest liberty when she was unconscious. “Katrina?”
Nothing.
He dared to use two fingers to poke her shoulder, grimacing as he did so. This was not smooth.
Or effective. Her breathing remained as deep as ever.
He finally shook her shoulder, then shook her again. “Katrina?”
Jas straightened, flummoxed. He glanced around, the cold air crystallizing his breath. He couldn’t very well let her sleep in the car for the rest of the morning, and he was too exhausted to keep poking her until she woke up.
He scuffed his otherwise spotless shoe in the dirt. You’ve carried her before.
Only once, when she was having an attack and he’d moved her. Never from a car to a bed. He’d especially never carried her over a threshold.
He glanced at the structure. Over his ancestral family home’s threshold.
He tried to shake her gently again, and thank God her lashes fluttered open. “Hmm?” she murmured, and the sleepy sound went to his gut.
“We’re here,” he said.
She gave a nod and stirred, though her seat belt stopped her from rising. He reached over her, careful not to touch any part of her, and unsnapped the buckle, then moved back.
He had to hold her arm when she got out of the car, but she found her balance quickly. “It’s chilly,” she muttered. She’d changed into a sweater and yoga pants for the drive.
“I know. Let’s get inside.” She looked so unsteady he hovered behind her as she walked up the two steps to the porch.
The door was unlocked, which was normal. Even if he hadn’t told his brother he was coming here, the door would have been unlocked. Locking doors in this town was for tourists, not locals.
Consider him a tourist, so long as he was in charge of Katrina’s safety. He glanced at the rusted dead bolt. Tomorrow he’d change the locks on it and the back door.
It was warm inside, which surprised him. At some point over the last however many years it had been since he’d visited, they must have installed central heat. He took in the large living room with a glance. The place was clean and furnished with an older, comfortable sectional and television, but that was updated from what he remembered too. His grandpa must have refurbished the big house and given this place the hand-me-downs.
Katrina slumped against the wooden post at the foot of the stairs and yawned. “Come on,” he said. “Bedrooms are upstairs.”
It wasn’t until he led Katrina to a bedroom and turned the light on that he realized how tired he must be, because he’d accidentally led her to the room he’d used as a kid instead of the much larger master bedroom. Noooo, you cannot put her in your childhood bedroom. That’s so weird.
Before he could stop her, she muttered, “Thank you,” and collapsed on the mattress of the four-poster bed, not even bothering to get under his great-grandmother’s quilt.
“Uh, Katrina,” he tried, but all he got was a slight snore, her mouth parted.
He set his hands on his hips and glanced around. This wasn’t really his room any longer. The walls were bare now, the magazine posters he’d taped on the wood paneling as a kid long gone. The door to the bathroom was wide open, and it was similarly empty but clean and dust-free. He was sure Katrina had brought her fancy toiletries with her, but he could see some small samples on the counter. His brother really had readied the place for him on short notice.
He closed the bathroom door, so the light from the window there wouldn’t interrupt her sleep. He also closed the blinds. He was about to leave when he made the mistake of glancing at her.
She hadn’t taken off her shoes.
So let her sleep in them.
But then she’d be uncomfortable and wake up. He wrestled with himself, but finally walked back to the bed.
It was impossible not to touch her while he removed her shoes, but he tried to remain as detached as possible, even when he had to briefly encircle her slim ankle with his hand.
Pretend it’s a dowel, or a fishing rod, or a hanger. Not a perfect round little ankle.
He didn’t dare take off her socks. If removing her shoes made him feel vaguely guilty, he didn’t want to think how pervy he’d feel for stripping wool off her bare flesh.
He straightened and made for the door, but then did an about-face. Despite the warmth from the heater, it might get much colder up here than Katrina was used to. Jas stood above her and frowned. She was sleeping on top of the bedspread. How was he supposed to get her under it?
He envisioned multiple possibilities, but before he could act, her eyes opened and he froze.
“Jas,” she murmured, and the sleepy, hoarse word made his stomach drop. His name on her lips was always torture, but that husky bedroom tone was too much, especially when deployed in his bedroom.
He clenched his hands tight together so he wouldn’t be tempted to do something stupid, like stroke her hair and tell her everything was okay.
What is wrong with you?
He didn’t know, except maybe the fear for her peace of mind had discombobulated him so much he was no longer thinking clearly.
She closed her eyes again, which was good. He stumbled b
ack to the door. His hand got to the doorknob before he mentally kicked himself.
The blanket.
He tiptoed back to the bed and grabbed the part of the cover she wasn’t on and folded it over her body, turning her into the filling of the world’s clumsiest taco.
Good enough.
He nearly ran out of the room when her lips parted. Maybe seeing a woman he had feelings for innocently sleeping in his old bed wouldn’t affect another man at all, but it was clearly making his brain cells seep through his ears.
He closed the door behind him and sighed in relief to be out of there. Don’t think about it. Move on. There was still work to be done.
First, Jas retrieved their bags from the car. They both had backpacks with their laptops and computer things. He had a small duffel and a bigger bag filled with security equipment. She’d packed a large roller suitcase, one he hadn’t seen in a long time, which made sense, since she hadn’t gone anywhere overnight in forever.
He grunted when he lifted her bag out of the trunk. He had no idea what was in it, but back when they’d traveled extensively with Hardeep, she always had carried a great deal of stuff. There had been bellhops then to handle the luggage.
He took their insulated bag of food into the kitchen and placed the few supplies they’d brought into the fridge, including a small jar that contained Katrina’s precious sourdough starter. That had been another thing that Katrina had always traveled with.
He carried the rest of the luggage upstairs and held his breath as he opened her bedroom door so it formed the smallest possible wedge. He shoved her suitcase inside like it was on fire, then closed the door quietly. He wasn’t getting stuck in that trap again.
He walked across the hall and tossed his duffel on the bed there. The room was bigger, comfy and cozy with older furnishings, but also devoid of any sign anyone had actually lived here. So, fine. He’d take the master and be okay with it. He supposed, technically, as the owner on the deed for this house, this was his room by right, even if it was weird to sleep in the room his grandparents had occupied.
He unzipped the second, larger bag. He took out the cameras and lined them up on the antique writing desk. His grandfather would grumble if he discovered Jas was drilling holes in the historic house, but again, it was Jas’s house. And they needed cameras. He’d install them around the perimeter once there was more light.
