With One More Look At You

by Mary J. Williams

  Forbes nodded, wondering if he really wanted the details.

  "What Sophie never shared with me were the things she went through away from the ranch."

  "At school?" Forbes knew how thoughtlessly cruel kids could be. Even worse when they took the time to plan their attacks. The crap with Joy would have made Sophie an easy target.

  "I heard from a few of my friends who work at the high school—after the fact. Some of Sophie's classmates—mostly the ones who were friends with Daphne Parks—were relentless. They called her names. Left rotten food in her locker. There were rumors of a fight. I don't know any of the details—or how much of it was true."

  "Did you ask Sophie?"

  Maeve's eyes were sad. "Sophie didn't report the bullying to anybody. By the time I heard what was going on, the worst of it had died down. Luckily, Tory Crandall stood by her. And on occasion—again, this is strictly hearsay—in front of her."

  "Fucking Joy," Forbes muttered.

  For once, Maeve didn't reprimand him for his language. She simply nodded, her expression turning cold.

  "The Christian in me wants to forgive. However…"

  "I hope the bitch rots in hell."

  "Yes." Short and to the point. "Sophie was a victim, Forbes. Though whatever you do, don't use that word around her."

  The corner of Forbes' mouth ticked upward. "Thanks for clueing me in, Maeve."

  "One more thing." When Forbes would have stood, Maeve stayed him, putting her hand on his arm. "I told you because I didn't know how you felt about Sophie. If you blamed her for… Well, for any of it."

  "Dad didn't blame her. You didn't. Neither did Jerry or Mike. But you thought I did?" Forbes didn't know how he felt about that.

  "You cut Sophie out of your life, Forbes. Not a word. What were we supposed to think? What was she supposed to think?"

  That he was an idiot with issues? That while Sophie's secrets were out in the open, Forbes hadn't decided if his should ever see the light of day? Twelve years later, he didn't know what he should—or shouldn't—tell her. He would have to play it by ear.

  "Sophie is safe with me, Maeve. I promise. The last thing in the world I would do is deliberately hurt her."

  Satisfied, Maeve nodded. "Sophie is in her office."

  "Her office? Where is that?"

  "The only one in the house."

  "You mean Dad's office?"

  Maeve shrugged. "It's the one they shared for years. When Newt passed away, why wouldn't Sophie continue to use it?"

  "No reason at all," Forbes assured her.

  Sophie was in charge of the ranch. Legal and binding. Laid out in Newt's will in easy to understand black and white. According to the document, Sophie was co-heir. Half of everything belonged to her.

  When the changes were made—three years before Newt's death—it was done with Forbes' knowledge and blessing. At the time, he was still gung-ho about the job he was doing. Saving lives. Serving his country. Convinced he was helping make the world a better place.

  Forbes knew he would eventually come home. But in ten or fifteen years. He hadn't been ready for a change. Besides, Sophie had earned her right to the ranch. More than earned it. From everything he heard, she had become the place's heart and soul.

  As he left the kitchen, Forbes paused, watching as Maeve opened the oven to check the progress of the roasting beef.

  "Sophie was lucky to have you, Maeve." Thinking about his father, Forbes added, "And all of you were lucky to have her."

  THE DESK AND its contents were organized down to the last paperclip. It had taken some time to organize things to her liking. Newt's system had been a bit haphazard—to put it mildly. As Sophie began to work with him, he gladly allowed her to organize his system. Her first project was to get rid of the clutter.

  The desk had been in the Branson family for generations. Maeve kept the mahogany gleaming, but when Sophie opened the drawers, she wondered if they had ever been cleaned out. She found papers—everything from illegible scribblings to out-of-date invoices—crumpled in every corner. Some were dated from over sixty years ago. Historically interesting, but of absolutely no practical use. Sophie gave Newt the assignment of deciding which to save—for posterity—and which to junk. By the end of the day, they needed a bigger trash can.

  Sophie found packages of stale cheese crackers, several candy bars that had solidified to the consistency of granite. And what looked like part of a sandwich that was so old, it had fossilized.

  Remembering Newt's embarrassed expression as she mucked out the years of mess—and forgotten meals—Sophie smiled wistfully. She missed him. Every day. In so many ways.

  Hitting the send button, Sophie closed the laptop. Paying the bills always gave her a sense of accomplishment. Luckily, money had never been an issue—even when Newt had been at his lowest point and had let things slide. The Branson ancestors had left behind a sizable and diverse fortune. Sophie relied on trusted advisors to help her keep the coffers robust. But nothing was done without her approval and signature. She watched each investment with an eagle eye. Read every contract. Twice.

  Years from now when the next generation took over, Sophie would make certain they inherited a thriving business. One that was even stronger and more robust than when she was handed the reins.

  "Done for another month." Sophie swiveled the chair until she faced the window. On the second floor, she loved this view of the river. "Benjamin Franklin was right. A place for everything and everything in its place. This is my place. It's where I belong."

  "I agree."

  The only thing that stopped Sophie from jumping a foot were her fingernails digging into the arms of the chair. Forbes. He still had a way of sneaking up on her. And it still pissed her off.

  "Try knocking next time." Sophie took a deep breath before swinging the chair around. "This is my office. For future reference, the closed door means I don't want to be disturbed."

  Forbes ignored her less than welcoming words, moving to the corner where Dandi calmly watched the proceedings.

  "Hello." Forbes went down on one knee. He held out his hand for the dog to sniff. "I knew this couldn't be Bailey. Who are you?"

  "Her name is Dandi."

  "I'm Forbes," he said, running a hand over the dog's head. He looked at Sophie. "Why Dandi?"

  "She loves to eat dandelions."

  Sophie frowned when Dandi leaned into Forbes' caress, her eyes closing with pleasure. Women had always fallen at his feet. Human or animal. It seemed that hadn't changed.

  "Sounds reasonable."

  Sophie had rehearsed what she would say the next time she saw Forbes. While taking care of the horses—brushing their coats, combing their manes—she had carried on the one-sided conversation in her head. She picked her words carefully, delivering them with a cool, measured confidence. Now that the moment was at hand, she drew a blank.

  "Let's get a few things straight right off the bat." Forbes' long legs covered the distance across the room before Sophie could blink—or protest—he took the chair across from the desk. "I don't blame you. For anything. I don't hate you. Or resent you. Or wish you were anyplace but where you are right now. That is your chair. This is your office. On paper, the ranch belongs to us both. But you're the boss, Sophie. And that's the way it should be."

  Sophie felt as if Forbes had crawled inside her head, plucking out what she had wanted to say—almost word for word. However, he didn't deliver her speech with a cool, measured confidence. He did it with eloquent emotion that she heard in his tone and saw in his eyes. Sophie's throat tightened.

  "I don't know what to say." Forbes had pretty much said it for her.

  "Don't get me wrong," Forbes continued. "I want to be a part of it. I'll work the ranch when I can. For my own enjoyment and to help. I'm used to giving orders, so I'm afraid overstepping my authority on occasion is an inevitability. When I do, let me know.

  "How are you at taking orders?" Sophie inq
uired.

  "Not so great," he admitted. Forbes sent Sophie a grin she remembered well. A little cocky. A little self-deprecating. And all Forbes. The weight that had deposited itself on her shoulders began to lift.

  "I can be a strict taskmaster."

  "When I respect my superior—when I trust she knows what she's doing—I do just fine."

  "Why the Army?"

  Sophie didn't know where the question came from. Though she was curious, it certainly wasn't at the top of her need-to-know list. However, now that she had asked it, she was curious to hear the answer.

  Forbes laced his fingers together, tapping one against his chin. His blue eyes turned thoughtful, meeting Sophie's.

  "You sure this is where you want to start? We have a lot of backstory to get through."

  "Are we on the clock?" The next question Sophie asked was near the top of her list. "Are you planning on taking off anytime soon?"

  "I'm home for good, Sophie. Unless…" Forbes thought about it then shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned, my traveling days are over."

  Rolling her shoulders, Sophie felt the rest of the weight fall away.

  "You never mentioned a desire to join the military."

  "I suppose, like a lot of people, after 9/11, it was always in the back of my mind. But when I left for Alaska, fishing was the only thing I thought I'd be doing."

  As far as Sophie knew, Forbes hadn't shared his motivation with his father. Or anyone else on the ranch. Fascinated to discover the answer, she sat forward, resting her elbows on the desk.

  "What happened?"

  "It turned out that Aaron's uncle wasn't the successful fisherman he claimed to be. He was able to eke out a living—barely. We were lured up there as what amounted to cheap labor. Clean the fish. Pump the water from the boat. In exchange, he provided a place to sleep and three meals a day. Fish as a steady diet gets old fast. We lasted a month. Aaron headed home. That wasn't an option for me."

  "Because you wanted to see the world?"

  "That was part of it." Forbes hesitated. "I'll tell you everything, Sophie. But it will be easier if I take it section by section—so to speak. You asked about the Army."

  Now that they had begun, the questions zinged around her brain. Fast, furious, and in no logical order. Forbes was right. Keeping to one subject at a time would be the smart way to go.

  "Join the Army, see the world?"

  "Sounds good on the recruitment posters. Mostly? I saw dirty barracks, ate crappy food, and walked. A lot. It wasn't perfect, but because of the men and women I met and served with, I will never regret my decision." Forbes looked over his shoulder. "Are there any beers in the fridge?"

  "Help yourself."

  For a while—after Newt came back from rehab—Sophie removed all traces of alcohol from the office. After his death, she decided to restock the refrigerator and bar for when she entertained business associates.

  "Can I get you something?" Forbes asked, twisting the cap of a long neck bottle.

  "Water. Thanks." Sophie wasn't much of a drinker. The occasional glass of wine was about it.

  "I signed up for two years." Forbes continued after taking a sip of beer. He settled into his seat, stretching out his legs. "Did you know that really means eight?"

  "Eight years? I don't understand."

  "I didn't either. When a recruit signs on the dotted line, he agrees to two years of active duty. After that, it's two years with the National Guard. Then four on what's called inactive service."

  "What does that mean?"

  "Active duty is a possibility. In the case of an emergency."

  Sophie wondered how often it happened. A man or woman settled into civilian life. Then out of the blue—two or three years later—they get recalled. She couldn't imagine such a thing.

  "That's kind of scary."

  "Honestly? My hand shook a bit when I signed the papers." His chuckle made Sophie smile. "It isn't so bad once you know what you're dealing with. I stuck for six years." Forbes lowered his voice to whisper "Military intelligence. And before you say it, I've heard all the jokes. Yes, it is an oxymoron. I can attest to the fact. Still, I learned more than I would have in the trenches. Some good. Some— You don't want to know."

  "What if I said that I did want to know?"

  "You don't want it in your head, Sophie. And I don't want to put it there." The blue of Forbes' eyes darkened to a midnight blue. Sadness and pain. "Even if I did, I couldn't. Classified up the wazoo."

  Sophie didn't push. Though she really wanted to. Whatever Forbes had been through, it had helped mold the man he was today. Not that he had changed that much. He was older. Harder. A little more reserved. The smile didn't come as easily, but when it did, she recognized the boy she used to know.

  "What made you leave the Army?"

  "Somebody made me an offer I couldn't refuse."

  Feeling the story was about to get juicy, Sophie leaned closer, anxious for details. Before she could urge Forbes to continue, Maeve knocked on the office door.

  "Dinner's ready. Wash your hands."

  "To be continued," Forbes said, getting to his feet. He opened the door, gesturing for Sophie to precede him.

  "After dinner?"

  "Tomorrow."

  "But—"

  "After dinner, I want to hear about the problems you've been having around the ranch. You can fill me in while you show me where the fire started."

  "Mike and Jerry." With everything that happened, the fire had slipped Sophie's mind.

  "Mike told me to speak with the boss," Forbes said matter-of-factly.

  It seemed they were settling into their roles. Sophie still expected a bump or two. However, Forbes had made it clear that though they were equal partners, he was fine with her taking the lead. On the ranch. When he put on his badge? That would be a different story.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE FIRE CAUSED minimal damage to the barn and its contents. If Sophie hadn't seen it when she had, it could've been worse. A lot worse.

  Forbes had given the charred area a cursory examination that morning. It hadn't taken him long to determine it had been deliberate. Though the scent of charred hay overrode everything else, when he had picked up a handful of loose straw, the scent of gasoline filled his nose.

  This evening, Forbes knelt next to a pile of bales that had been removed from the barn. Dandi pushed her nose against his shoulder. He and Sophie's dog were still getting acquainted, but he understood what she wanted. While he examined the evidence, he laid his hand on her head, scratching behind her ear. Dandi let out a happy sigh before finding a spot to lie down.

  Between the initial fire and the water and dirt that was used to put it out, not much was left. However, after closer examination, he noticed a blackened ring in the middle of one bale. He recognized the familiar pattern—an indicator of where a flame had been put to the accelerant.

  First thing in the morning, Forbes would have the bale picked up to be analyzed. They didn't have the proper facilities in Cloverdale. That meant calling in an outside contractor. That kind of expert didn't come cheap. But since he would be using his own money, Forbes wasn't concerned that someone might accuse him of overstepping his authority as chief of police. If a fuss were raised, he would calmly tell them to shove it up their asses. Or words to that effect. This was his home. He would do whatever it took to keep it—and the people on it—safe.

  "Do you think there's anything to find?"

  Forbes straightened, turning his head to meet Sophie's pensive gaze.

  "The crime scene isn't exactly pristine." That was putting it mildly. They found footprints on top of footprints in a big pile of dried mud and soot. "The chance of finding anything helpful is slim to none. But important clues sometimes pop up in the least likely places. I know some people who are experts at finding something out of nothing. I'll get them to look over the area."

  "Will it be like something out of CSI?


  Forbes lips quirked. "Hollywood and real life rarely mesh. What my people do is a lot less flashy, and they almost never solve a case in one commercial-packed hour."

  "Your people?" Sophie asked, her eyes sparkling with interest. "How many do you have? Why do you need them? Are they still yours now that you're Cloverdale's chief of police?"

  Leave it to Sophie to zero in on that particular nugget of information.

  "The number varies. I need them for jobs like this. And, yes, they are still mine."

  "Why are they still yours? If—"

  "I'll explain later."

  "Part of, the "to be continued" you mentioned earlier?

  "Exactly."

  Sophie had a quick, nimble brain. A trait Forbes had admired when they were younger. Now? He found a beautiful woman with a brain and the sense to put it to good use. It was sexy as hell.

  Not the time or the place, Forbes reminded himself. Though he couldn't be blamed for noticing the way the evening sun encased Sophie in its glow. Had her hair always contained those warm, eye-catching auburn highlights? He remembered a less spectacular color running along the lines of plain old, run-of-the-mill brown. And how was he supposed to ignore the way the sleeveless shirt she wore showed off her sleek, toned arms. Apparently, she was still making use of the basement weight room.

  Forbes' eyes moved lower to the gentle slope of her breasts, imagining how they would look if he slowly peeled away the thin layer of cotton that shielded them from his gaze.

  "Hey!" Sophie snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Earth to Forbes."

  Shit! Forbes blinked. What the hell? He never let his mind wander when on the job. Giving himself a mental shake, he focused on Sophie's face instead of her other assets.

  Forbes cleared his throat. "Sorry. What did you say?"

  "It doesn't matter." Frowning slightly, Sophie put a hand to his forehead. "Are you feeling okay? You look a little flushed."

  Forbes gave himself a moment to enjoy Sophie's cool touch before taking a step back.

  "I'm fine."

  "Maeve is worried that you've lost weight." Sophie tilted her head, looking him up and down. Her frown deepened. "You could use to put on a few pounds. Have you been ill?"