“Have a good meeting, Reid,” she says to him. “Call me later?”
Reid keeps his gaze fixed on me and ignores her. Whatever. “Where to you want to have this talk?” he asks me.
“Right here is fine.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to sit in one of our cars? It’ll be more private.”
I don’t need any privacy with Reid, so I shake my head. “A couple of minutes is more than enough. Right here is fine.”
He looks out toward the parked cars. “Which of those is yours?”
“The light blue truck,” I tell him. “Not that it’s your concern.”
“Okay. I knew it looked familiar,” he says. “Isn’t that the Chevy Silverado your older brother, Josh, use to drive all those years ago?”
“Also none of your business, but for the sake of wrapping up the small talk, yes it is.”
I bite the inside of one cheek, pressing my back against the wall beside the entrance as I mentally walk through my prepared update. I thought about what I’d say all night last night, and the truth is, I wish that I didn’t clue Reid in on Danielle. It would have been even better if I didn’t acknowledge or speak to him at all, let alone sing that song.
I have enough of my own ex-boyfriend problems. Which is why I’ve been working my butt off. It’s not fun slaving away as secretary of my boss, Mr. Rochford, during the day while taking as many evening gigs as I can handle. Mr. Rochford is an uptight general attorney with a small one-man-show law practice. He’s demanding, knows exactly what he likes and how, and has no problem pointing out the errors of my ways every chance he gets.
But I need that job, and these performing gigs. By this time next year, Barclay and I will have enough saved up to move to Nashville and finally find the connections to make a go of hitting it big in the country and western world. It’s been our plan since grade school. The only thing keeping us from embarking on the dream now is Barclay’s education. He’ll graduate with a Master’s Degree in Fine Arts next April, and we’ll be on our way to making music and performing full time.
I’ll also be free of my ex-boyfriend, Dave, who can’t seem to accept the words ‘it’s over’ even now, close to a year after I ended it. Changing the locks on the apartment we shared only made him more convinced that we’re meant to be together, as he says. A firm talking to from my parents didn’t help. Neither did the temporary restraining orders I got the courts to issue. He stayed away for the duration of the orders, and as soon as they expired, he started showing up again.
I smile weakly at a thought. Dave and Reid should have a chat. They’re on opposite extremes of the romantic relationship spectrum. One can’t run away from women fast enough. The other can’t bring himself to stay the hell away. Maybe they’ll rub off on each other and find a happy medium.
Or maybe not.
With their luck, they’ll end up pickup up each other’s worst habits.
“What’s so funny?” Reid asks, his voice pulling me out of my thoughts. “Or did you ask me here for…other reasons?”
I don’t hide rolling my eyes. “Dream on.”
Reid moves in until he’s less than two feet away from me. “Fine. Let’s talk about Danielle.”
“Okay. First, let me say that I’m sorry about that song last night. I was out of line. It was not my place to…judge you or call you out like that.”
“No need to apologize. I kind of liked the song,” he says. “The crowd sure loved it.”
It’s not the reaction I wanted from him, but at least I got my apology out without making the situation worse. “Thanks.”
“Isn’t that what good country music is all about? Pain, sadness and regret?”
He sure caused enough of it, but I won’t touch that comment with a ten-foot pole now that I’m so close to having him out of my hair for good.
“Uh, sure. Anyway, what you need to know is that she was in a bad place for a long time after you left. She doesn’t need to be reminded of you or the tough time she had. I want you to stay away from her. I think that’s it.”
He can’t seem to mask his confusion. His eyes narrow, his brows knit together, and his head tilts to one side. “Really? That’s it? You asked me to meet you here, so you can tell me that Danielle was in a bad place?”
“Look, I thought about it, all right? It’s best if you leave well enough alone.”
“The fact that you sang that song suggests to me there’s something more. Just tell me what it is. You have my word that I won’t try to track her down or reach out to your family.”
“She was depressed,” I blurt out, although truth be told, it’s only the tip of the iceberg. My gut tells me that if I give him this sliver of what happened to Danielle, it will be enough. It has to be. “Clinical depression. That was her diagnosis, which translated to frequent therapy sessions, prescription anti-depressants, and many other consequences. She ended up having to quit college, got fired from countless jobs around town, and she couldn’t live on her own. She still can’t. Meanwhile, there you are, off wherever you disappeared to in the Middle East, serving in the military, being celebrated and decorated with medals for protecting our country, when you couldn’t even grow a pair to tell my sister you were leaving. And now, look at you, doing well for yourself while she can’t hold her own. Why else would I be upset?”
Reid nods. He’s been staring pensively at a spot above my shoulder, avoiding eye contact for the latter part of this heart-wrenching update. “I’m sorry she had a hard time,” Reid says. “You’re right. I was a jerk back then.”
“Add immature, inconsiderate, selfish, and arrogant to the list, among other things,” I tell him.
“Okay, those too.”
“Damn right you were.”
“Is there anything else you want me to know? Or something you want me to do for Danielle?”
“No!” I blurt out way too quickly. “I mean, it’s too late for that. Water under the bridge, and all that. Just don’t be surprised if one or two of us use a picture of your arrogant face for target practice. Oh and by the way, be sure to steer clear of Josh. My brother has been saving up an extra-special can of whoopass just for you.”
“I get it. You’re all hoping I don’t cross paths with Danielle.”
“That’s right. The best, kindest thing you can do for her now is to leave her alone. She doesn’t need to go through another downward spiral.”
“I understand. And what about you, Robin?”
“What about me?”
“Am I going to have to face your musical wrath every time you perform here? I’m asking because my friends and I spend a lot of time at this bar.”
“Got it. No. You won’t ever hear me perform that song again.” I shake my head. “I’ll make a point of leaving it off the program from now on.”
He leans forward, bringing his face close to mine. “Do you want me to leave you alone too? I have to ask, because yesterday I got the feeling there was more to your reaction to me than plain old hatred.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There’s no shame in admitting you’re into me, Robin.”
“That’s just plain wrong,” I stammer out, irked that I myself don’t even believe the words I’m saying. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Am I?”
Reid takes my hand and places my palm against his black designer button-down shirt. He’s crowding me, invading my personal space. I should be putting some distance between us, but I’m mysteriously fixed in place. The force of his hand keeps mine plastered to his firm chest as it gives off waves of heat that radiate to my core and soak my panties.
I’m almost glad he’s holding my hand in one spot, because I’m tempted to inch my fingers down to his abs, which I have no doubt must be just as tight and rippling with rock hard muscles. Dazed and off-balance, I push against his chest, hoping at least one of us is not stuck in a forbidden moment. Reid doesn’t move an inch. Well, he moves, but in the wrong direction. He’s closing in on
me.
His light hazel eyes darken as he gazes down at me. My eyes roam his face, taking in each feature while a tiny voice buried deep in the recesses of my mind fails at getting my full attention as it tells me this is all levels of wrong. I’m too distracted by Reid’s square jaw line, his short dark hair framing his face, full lips that are just inches from mine, and those eyes that hypnotize me.
“Just tell me to leave you alone, Robin, and I will.”
That gravelly voice vibrates through the air and permeates every square inch of my skin—and other places. The saddest thing about what’s happening to me is the knowledge that Reid is completely aware of what he’s doing to me.
“Please…yes. Leave me and my family alone,” I finally breathe out. My cheeks and neck are hot and must be flushed red by now. I just hope there’s enough forcefulness in my tone to make him believe that I mean it.
Reid narrows his eyes. “All right,” he says, but doesn’t move off, and he still has his hand clasped over mine with my palm flattened over his heart.
I thank the stars as a smug smile curls up the sides of his lips, snapping me out of it. I can’t move back, but I find enough clarity to take a step to my left.
“Bye,” I tell him, biting down on my bottom lip as I turn toward the front entrance and hurry to get away.
“Robin,” he rumbles out as I pull the front door open.
I can barely bring myself to look his way, and it seems that fate doesn’t want us to let this conversation last a second longer. His phone rings. Reaching into the pocket of his slacks, he takes the call. I don’t stick around for long, but notice the concern that flashes over his face from whatever he learns on the other end of the line. His long, hurried stride as he returns to his SUV is telling enough.
It’s probably something important.
Giving him a final glance over my shoulder, I head inside to take care of my own priorities.
Chapter 6
Reid
Robin’s lucky that my phone rings and pulls me back to taking care of business. There’s no doubt in my mind anymore. It’s clear as day that she’s curious about me, and I’m not talking about hobbies. The lust in her eyes is impossible to mask. But work comes first at the moment, so I set aside my own budding interest in her to deal with a new issue.
“I’m about five minutes out,” I tell Leo over the speakerphone when he calls me a second time. I’ve been speeding northwest for half hour to get to a horse farm owned by Gerald Mason of Mason Industries, one of our biggest clients. “What happened?”
“Stable fire,” Leo informs me. “Nothing major. There were no human or equine injuries, but it’s the third suspicious fire at a Mason Industries property.”
“It’s early in the game, but there has to be a connection, right?”
“Probably,” he agrees. “The grounds manager didn’t notice anyone suspicious on the property. And from the sounds of this fire, it could have started from an electrical short in one of the air conditioning units. We can’t take any chances, though.”
“No doubt. It’s a mystery all right.”
“Hey, someone’s calling on the other line. I’ll meet you over there. Gotta go.” The tension in Leo’s voice is evident from all the unnecessary gruffness.
A few minutes later, our vehicles make it into the parking lot from opposite ends at about the same time, and Leo hops out of his SUV, stepping up to me with a ground-eating stride because he’s probably in a hurry to wrap up this meeting and get to the next one. Our client roster has been growing faster than ever, since Mason Industries came on board.
“Mason wants us to investigate these incidents independent of the fire inspectors,” he tells me, nodding over at the large stable structure a few hundred feet away.
I nod as we hurry over to it. “We always do. So, no witnesses?”
“No. The fire started about an hour after most of the daytime staff left the premises.”
“Let’s take a look while we’re on site,” I suggest. “I can find out about access control threats later.”
“We’ve put forward the possibility of an inside man before. These fires can’t be as simple as just coincidences. The animals closest to the source of the fire are Mason’s thoroughbred racing horses.” Leo rubs his forehead with the back of his hand. “Some of them are over half a million a pop.”
“That sure would put a dent in his pockets. How are we for interim monitoring staff?”
“Beau is taking care of bringing everyone in until we figure out who’s behind these fires.”
My eyebrows raise as we make it to the burnt-out section of the stable. This isn’t a small fire by any means, but only one section of the massive structure was affected. The roof seems intact as well. Because the firefighters are still here working with long hoses to put out hot spots, there is sure to be significant water damage.
Taking a long breath, Leo pulls out his phone and calls the stable grounds manager, but even he can’t get us clearance to enter the cordoned off areas. Not while firefighters are still in response mode. Leo and I join the small group of ranch staff waiting beyond the perimeter. It’s near impossible to ignore the scent of soot, smoke and charred wood hanging in the air, which is only upstaged by the large plume of smoke billowing from the building.
It takes close to two hours for us to get close enough to the structure. By then, the last of the flames are put out, and fire responders begin to recoil hoses and return their equipment to the truck. We make our way to the damaged section, navigating muddy puddles and scorched planks of floor boards to get as close to the air conditioning unit reported to be the alleged culprit for starting the blaze. Nothing looks unusual in here, so we return outside to look at the exterior wall closest to this spot.
“Do you see those scorch marks?” Leo asks, pointing at an oval-shaped spot about four feet below the unit.
“Yup,” I answer, ducking down to take a closer look. “There shouldn’t be anything down at that height if the air conditioner had a short circuit. Unless the short started inside the wall, but I doubt it.”
“It looks like incendiaries to me,” Leo agrees. “Gasoline?”
“That or propane. The rough oval shape makes me think something was thrown on that spot, and whatever quantity was still in a liquid state ended up dripping down the wall. So, arson.”
Leo nods knowingly. “We’ll wait for fire investigators to confirm, but that’s my guess too.”
“Did we install any cameras that point in this direction?” I ask, looking back at the other structures, then over at the main house about a few hundred feet away.
“Good call. I’ll have one of the technicians pull up the feeds to verify. Geoff may still be at the office. That’s all we can do here for now. Do you want to head out? I don’t mind waiting here for Beau and the relief team.”
I check the time on my phone. “Sure, but don’t you have more shit on your plate?”
“Naw. It’s fine.”
“Okay. I’ll work with Geoff on the video feeds back at the office. We can regroup for a briefing tomorrow.”
“It’s going to have to be early. Mason will want answers fast.”
“Works for me,” I tell Leo, giving him a head nod before I return to my SUV.
Climbing inside, I send a text to let Geoff, the technician, know I’m on my way over. He reminds me that I have remote access via my laptop, so we agree that I’ll head home while he queues up the footage. It’ll be a long night, but at least I can get this work done from the comfort of my place. The last thing I need is another all-nighter in the office. Ending the call, I start the engine, flip on one of my preset XM radio stations, and start my thirty-minute drive along the ranch’s semi-deserted back road that leads to the highway home.
Something about a country western ballad that comes on reminds me of that sad, angry song Robin sang. Maybe it’s the chords, or the slight edge to the vocalist’s voice. As I listen to the lyrics of this song that’s playing, the mystery o
f Robin’s anger toward me surfaces again. She was hiding something. Even with her revelation about Danielle’s depression, I can’t shake the feeling that there has to be something I’m missing. At this point, there’s only one of two ways that I’ll get past the wall of secrecy that Robin has erected. I can either let it be, or confront the source. Danielle will have some answers. In the meantime, it is what it is.
If I can just stop bumping into Robin around town.
Or her blue Chevy Silverado, which I see parked on the side of the road a few hundred feet up ahead.
Making some progress on this string of fires should be the only thing on my mind right now, but as it turns out, I can more or less balance two preoccupations.
Chapter 7
Robin
This part of town is getting way too small for comfort. Of all the motorists driving by, Reid has to be the one to see me and stop. As he jumps out of the driver seat, the desire to hop in my truck and leave comes over me, but I stopped here for a reason. This very spot is supposed to be one of the best places to get a picture-perfect shot of the sun setting over Mount Charleston to the west of us. Barclay and I want to capture that image for the cover of our demo of a song called Stars and Sunsets. I’m not leaving until I get what I need, even if it means putting up with Reid yet another time.
Putting my phone into my pocket, I turn toward Reid, who’s striding over to me with his usual air of cocky arrogance. He stops a couple feet from me, sporting a smirk I’d like to slap off his face.
“Have you finished your gig at Whiskey Jacks already?” he asks.
“Yes. We had an early time slot today.”
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, darlin’,” he croons, looming over me at a time that I should be focused on getting my shot.
“I’d say it’s pretty easy to make that happen.”
“Yeah? How?”
“You could start by getting back in your car and driving away as though you never saw me.”
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