He asked, “What’d you do with Sherlock? I figured you’d bring him along.”
“My mother would have a fit if I brought a dog into her house. He’s staying at Meg’s this weekend. Eric spoils him more than I do.”
“Doubt that.”
“Weird.” She tapped on her headset. “There’s a pesky buzzing in my headset, so I can’t hear a word you’re saying.”
His response was a smirk.
After about a half hour of smooth flying, Ryan took something out of his shirt pocket and scanned it before putting it back. “So, describe your perfect day, Tara.”
“What?” It was so out of character for him to ask that she held out her hand. “Let me see that.” She waggled her fingers.
He met her gaze briefly before slowly pulling the paper from his pocket and handing it over.
“Five surefire conversation starters?” She read down the list. They weren’t bad, but so not Ryan. It was cute he’d tried, though. “Don’t under any circumstances use the ‘If you found a hundred-dollar bill what would you do with it?’ question at the wedding this weekend. To most of the guests, a hundred-dollar bill is what they use to tip the busboy at their favorite restaurant.”
“Figured you came from really big money. But I don’t hold that against you.”
“Says the man whose family owns a whole town and who has a healthy portfolio of his own?”
Wait. Crap! She wasn’t supposed to know that.
He cocked a brow in typical Ryan fashion, waiting for her to explain herself.
“My father checked you out. I have a large trust fund he worries about. You passed muster, if it helps.”
His jaw slowly clenched. “That information was obtained without my permission. Illegally, Tara.”
“I . . . don’t really know how . . .” What could she say? She had no idea what her father had done to get that information. “I’m sorry, Ryan. He meant no harm. He was just protecting me.”
“From what, Tara? A gold digger, or something worse?” He turned and looked at her, his eyes hard and intense. “You can have this one-time free pass, but in return I want one question. Answered truthfully. I know you’re hiding something.”
Dammit.
“It’s nothing illegal if that’s what you’re afraid—”
“One question.”
“Fine.” She crossed her arms and turned away to gaze out the window. “What?”
“Look at me, please.”
She turned and stared into his eyes again. They weren’t hard with anger anymore, but filled with concern. “Are you in danger?”
She closed her eyes and swallowed back the wave of tears crawling up her throat. God, she wanted to tell him how scared she was of Spencer. How badly he’d hurt her with that knife. And how she couldn’t sleep at night sometimes for all the fear. But she couldn’t. Detective Bailey had told her to trust no one. He’d said her life depended on it. “No, not that I know of. I’m just trying to leave my past behind and never look back.”
He laid his hand on her thigh. “I hope that’s true, Tara.” He gave a gentle squeeze. “I couldn’t stand if anything happened to you, especially if I could’ve helped prevent it.”
Happy their fight seemed to be over, she laid her hand over his and ran her thumb back and forth to soothe—herself or him, she wasn’t sure.
After a few more minutes of silence between them, the outskirts of Denver appeared ahead. Suddenly, their journey couldn’t end fast enough for her.
He didn’t believe her. What if he got curious enough to try to find out about her using his police resources? How could she ask him not to dig into her past without admitting to him she could be in danger if Spencer ever found her? That by digging, Ryan could accidentally alert Spencer to her whereabouts. She’d never forget the hate in those cold, dead eyes the last time she’d seen her ex in court. He’d threatened to finish off what he’d started.
To kill her.
After he tied down the chopper, Ryan found the family car in its usual spot. He loaded the suitcases into the back of the SUV while watching Tara out of the corner of his eye. She’d been shaken by their conversation and had since clammed up tight. The quick flash of fear in Tara’s eyes right before she’d closed them earlier told him she was in some sort of danger. The thought sat like a lead ball in his gut.
At least she’d finally admitted to having a secret. He likely needed to show her she could trust him before he’d get any more out of her. Chances were better he’d figure it out on his own if he could find a few pieces of key information from her relatives. The first order, which should be easy, was to find out her maiden name. He only had Jamie Mc- something.
He slapped the hatch shut. “Tara?”
Her head jerked up as if he’d interrupted some deep thought. “Yeah?”
“You want to drive?” He tossed her the keys.
She caught them and forced a smile. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Sheriff. Let’s go.”
After driving for about forty minutes, in mostly stony silence, they entered a residential area with a series of driveways and gates. Not a single house could be seen from the road. Must be getting close.
He needed to clear the air. “So, are you going to stay mad at me all weekend?”
“I’m not angry with you, Ryan. I’ve just been thinking. Coming home again brings back memories . . .” She turned to him, her eyes pleading with his. “So how about no more questions about my past? At least for the weekend. Please?”
“Deal.” He felt like a heel for adding to her distress.
“Thank you.” Evidently relieved by his promise, she shot him a cute grin. “Better brace yourself. We’re almost there.”
“What am I bracing myself for?”
“You’ll see.”
They approached a big set of iron gates, complete with two types of guards. The largest men wore suits and had earpieces like the FBI used, and the other wore khaki uniforms. “Are these guys always here? Or is this just for the wedding?”
“Never this many.” Tara bit her bottom lip as she hit the button to roll down the window.
A uniformed man leaned down and smiled. “Oh, hey, Jamie. Welcome home.” The guy tilted his head and stared into Ryan’s eyes. “And you are?”
“Stand down, Jason.” Tara patted his cheek. “Ryan is a friend. How’re Pat and Tiffany?”
He glared at Ryan for another moment before nodding a greeting. “Sir.” Then he pressed a button on his radio to open the gate. “Wife’s great and Tif’s growing like a weed. Thanks for asking. Good to see you again.” He winked at her.
Clearly that guard worked there regularly, but what about the suits?
As they drove away, Ryan said, “Stand down, Jason?”
“We dated for a while when we were young and stupid.” Tara chuckled. “Talk about driving my father nuts. Jason is married with a kid now, but he’s still protective of me.”
“How many more protective former boyfriends are going to stare daggers at me this weekend?”
She shrugged. “A few maybe. I used to date a lot, but we usually stayed friends after. You’re benefiting from all that experience now, so wipe that scowl off your face.”
He wasn’t scowling. Was he? He glanced in the side mirror. Okay, maybe he was. He forced a smile and asked, “So, even the guards call you Jamie? Not just your family?”
Her eyes quickly met his for a moment, before she turned her attention back to the long driveway ahead. “I didn’t start using my real name again until I graduated dental school. I figured my name should match my diplomas and license, right?”
“Hmmm.” Made sense, but it seemed like just another of her practiced answers.
After a few more minutes, the trees cleared and a huge building came into view. “Is that a country club or your house?” He knew they were rich,
but that went beyond anything he could’ve ever imagined.
“That’s my parents’ house.” She sighed. “I know it’s outrageous. So I’ll apologize in advance for all the crazy things you’ll be seeing. You’ll never be so happy to be back in Anderson Butte after this weekend.”
As they pulled up under a huge portico, a line of men came out the front door, followed by a shorter version of Tara who was probably her sister, Laura. She slipped past the men all dressed in matching Dockers and polo shirts and ran to Tara’s side of the car. The men surrounded the car and opened their doors.
When Tara hopped out, the woman said, “Finally! It’s been ages, Jamie! I’ve missed you so much!”
Tara handed the keys to one of the clones, and then launched herself into the woman’s arms. “I’ve missed you too! Getting excited? Ready to walk down that aisle tomorrow?”
Yep. Her sister.
Laura released Tara and nodded. As they chattered on, Ryan went to the back of the car to get the bags, but they were already gone.
Not knowing what to do with himself, he wandered back toward the women, who hadn’t wound down a bit. Maybe he’d find one of the matching guys and ask where they’d taken his stuff. He had a gun in his bag.
Tara and Laura were just like his sisters when they hadn’t seen each other for a while. Talking a mile a minute and finishing each other’s sentences.
But it was nice to see a genuine smile on Tara’s face again.
Tara made it clear her past and her secret were off limits for the weekend, so maybe he’d pull Tara’s dad aside later and dig a little.
Tara broke away and slipped her hand in his, tugging him toward her sister. “Ryan, I want you to meet Laura. The soon-to-be Mrs. Bradley Acton.”
“Congratulations.” He stuck out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Laura had a big smile, very much like Tara’s. She ignored his hand and drew him into a hug.
After she released him she said, “Wow. Jamie told me about you, but she failed to mention just how handsome you are, Sheriff Anderson.”
That embarrassed him. Before he could think of a reply, Tara’s parents arrived along with an older woman using a walker.
Eva gave him a hug too. “Hello, Ryan. So nice to see you again.”
“Good to see you too.” Hugging family seemed foreign to him . . . but nice.
Tara gently wrapped her arms around the older woman. “Hi, Grandma. I’d like you to meet my friend Ryan.”
The blue-haired lady wearing a fancy bathrobe blinked as she studied him. “He’s much better looking than—”
“Grandma!” Tara cleared her throat. “Let’s go pick out a dress for you to wear tonight to the rehearsal dinner. Laura, want to join us?” Laura nodded and caught up with the slow-moving caravan to the front door.
“Ryan, glad you could make it.” Joe stuck out his hand for a shake. “Let’s go find you a drink before the women suck you into the wedding vortex.”
“Sounds great.” Could be just the opportunity he’d hoped for to glean the information he needed.
“I want to show you my favorite room in the house. An Irish pub I bought and had shipped here.”
A whole pub? Who did that?
Tara’s grandmother called out, “Don’t know what good it does to have a pub when not everyone is allowed to use it!” Her head slowly swiveled over her hunched shoulders and she glared at Tara’s father.
Joe forced a smile. “Nothing wrong with your hearing, Mildred.” Then he mumbled under his breath, “Even if you are crazy as a loon.”
Eva swatted Joe’s arm before she joined the women. “You can have one glass of wine with dinner, Mother.”
“That’s the last thing Mildred needs. She can’t remember which way is up these days.” Joe laughed and wrapped his arm around Ryan’s shoulder. “Come on.”
As they caught up with the women inside the three-story-tall foyer, Joe said, “I just figured out that your great-grandfather used to make my grandfather’s favorite whiskey. I want to hear more about that.”
Joe hadn’t finished digging into his life, evidently.
Tara called out, “I’ll catch up with you guys in a minute. Dad, no giving away any of our family secrets, please.”
Joe sent Tara a thumbs-up.
After taking a series of twists and turns, they approached a wooden door with a stained-glass shamrock in the middle.
Joe opened the door and stepped aside. Ryan walked inside but pulled up short. It was like stepping into a new dimension—early 1900s Ireland.
“So, Ryan, what do you—” Joe’s cell rang, cutting him off. He answered with, “McDaniel.”
That answered the last name question. It was going to be like shooting fish in a barrel.
After Joe quickly wrapped up his call, he proceeded to interrogate Ryan about Anderson Butte whiskey. Tara’s dad had even researched the hidden note on the town website.
Then Joe asked what Ryan’s intentions were toward Tara. Luckily, Joe’s phone chirped in his pocket again before Ryan could respond.
He wasn’t sure of the answer, but weirdly, he didn’t mind all the questions. Tara’s dad clearly loved her, unlike his own father, who seemed to barely tolerate his children.
As Tara’s father talked business on his cell, Ryan glanced around the incredible room, authentic to the last detail. The highly polished wooden bar that took up one whole side was complete with tall tap handles, mirrored glass shelves with dozens of varieties of whiskey, and other liquor displayed behind it. Many a villager had probably sidled up to the bar on a dark winter’s eve for their pint of Guinness after working in the fields all day.
On the walls, photos of verdant Ireland, metal beer signs, and Irish drums filled the space. Worn leather booths lined the opposite wall while small wooden tables were scattered haphazardly in the middle. There was even a raised stage in the corner that had most likely hosted many a talented fiddler back in the day.
An Irish pub made sense now that he knew Tara’s, aka Jamie’s, maiden name was McDaniel. Now he just needed to figure out what her married name was and he’d be one step closer. Carter hadn’t come up with any credible results in his earlier research.
Surely wealthy people like the McDaniels announced marriages in the society pages. A quick Google should do the trick.
Tara’s father still yammered away about real estate prices on his cell as Tara walked through the stained-glass door.
When she spotted Ryan, she sent him a tight smile. “I figured my father would be drilling you with questions, not ignoring you.”
“It’s okay. You doing all right?” She still seemed stressed.
“Yep. I have to go to a hair-and-makeup party in a bit, but first I want to show you something I think you’ll appreciate.” She held out her hand.
Tara waved to her father as she led Ryan out the door and along with her down the wide, polished stone hallway. Apart from the bar, the house had a Tuscan villa feel about it. Only super-sized.
“You people need to put up directory signs. Like at the Denver malls. A guy could get lost.”
She laughed. “You wouldn’t be lost for long. You’d run into some sort of staff fairly quickly. My parents like to be well tended. I always hated the lack of privacy.”
Yeah. He would too. It’d drive him nuts to have someone touching all of his things. Knowing all his business.
It reminded him of the gun in his bag. “I haven’t been to my room yet. Do you know which one is mine?”
“No. But I can find out. Here we are.”
Tara placed her hands on both handles of a wide set of double doors and pushed them open. Bright sunlight through tall windows blinded him for a moment before he saw two stories of shiny dark wooden bookcases framing a large room with big leather furniture and tables with lamps in the center. There were tall la
dders that rolled around on tracks above to get to the higher books. “Wow!”
She stepped inside ahead of him. “My dad gave me this for my tenth birthday. The windows are treated so the sunlight doesn’t hurt the books, but allows you to read during the day without any extra light. He filled it with the classics to vintage comic books in the cases over there. It’s my favorite room in the house.”
It made his collection seem amateurish. As he looked around, Tara went to a panel on the wall and pushed a button. An English-accented man’s voice replied, “How may I be of assistance?”
Tara talked to the voice about where his room was. Some wing or another. They must have so many they had to name them to keep them straight. He’d never seen anything like it.
He was so lost in his exploration of the mystery section he didn’t realize Tara had slipped beside him until she spoke.
“I have to run. A nice man named Jonathan will be here in a few minutes to take you to your room. Don’t bother dropping breadcrumbs, they’ll just come along behind you and sweep them up.”
“Blows that plan right out of the water. Do I look all right for dinner, or should I wear a suit?”
“You look perfect.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry about earlier . . . in the helicopter. And my dad’s snooping.”
“I wish you’d trust me, Tara.” He slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her into a hug. “Maybe I can help?”
She shook her head as he ran a hand up and down her back. “I’m not good at trusting anymore. Learned that lesson the hard way.” She held on tight for a few moments before she gave him a hard squeeze and then leaned away. “I asked Jonathan to take care of you because he’s worked for us forever and I adore him. He’d be happy to give you the grand tour if you’d like. Or get you anything you need. I’ll see you at dinner.”
On her way out, Tara stopped in front of a tall guy dressed in a butler’s suit like in the movies. She laid a hand on his arm and whispered something before she left.
It Had to Be Love (An It Had to Be Novel) Page 13
