Cowboy Tough

by Stacy Finz

  The best place for Ruben was at school, not sitting home, figuring out more ways to get in trouble. Jace never understood why suspending a kid was a good idea. He could think of a dozen better punishments than giving a kid a free vacation.

  “Okay,” Charlie said. “Is anything wrong? Should I have called you about Travis?”

  “This doesn’t have anything to do with Travis.” Jace didn’t want to get into it before the kids came in to eat. But he also didn’t want to ambush her.

  They exchanged glances and he saw Charlie’s face fall. He was pretty sure she knew he’d figured out who she was and where she’d come from. Good. The sooner they got this out in the open, the sooner they could come up with a plan.

  Charlie pulled the roast out of the oven and Jace called the boys to supper. With Charlie, the household ran like a well-oiled machine. He didn’t know how she managed to fit in her projects while keeping everything so organized, including putting food on the table and shuttling the boys to and from their activities. Mrs. Jamison had been great, but Charlie seemed to have a better rapport with Travis and Grady. As far as Jace knew, they didn’t call Charlie “Yoda.”

  Charlie had even tried to soft-pedal Travis’s suspension to him.

  Of course he shouldn’t have been fighting, but he was standing up for that poor girl, doing what he thought was right.

  They were both on the same page there.

  Travis and Grady joined them at the table. Everyone helped themselves. He might not be able to pay the property taxes, but they sure ate well on the ranch.

  Grady took a big bite and with his mouth full said, “I wish I would’ve seen Travis pop Ruben in the face.” He simulated a boxer and punched the air. “Pow!”

  “Knock it off,” Jace told him.

  Grady put his fists down and took a bite of his potatoes. “Is Travis grounded?” he asked with his mouth full.

  “That’s between your brother and me. You study for that spelling test?”

  “Boring. B-O-R-I-N-G. Boring.”

  Jace fixed Grady with a look. The kid was a smartass. Travis sat at the other end of the table, moping. Jace had taken away his phone, which meant Travis couldn’t spend half the night talking to Tina. Charlie seemed to be in her own world and had barely taken a bite of her food.

  “The roast’s fantastic. You ought to try it.”

  She dutifully took a bite but her head was somewhere else, probably mentally preparing herself for their upcoming conversation.

  No one but he and Grady seemed to be enjoying the meal. Travis asked to be excused and cleared his plate. Grady grabbed a cookie for dessert and ran off to play video games, leaving Jace alone with Charlie.

  She got up and began clearing the rest of the dishes. Jace helped her at the sink. When they were done, he grabbed a beer and poured her a glass of wine.

  “Shall we take this into the study?”

  She followed him and he shut the door so they wouldn’t be disturbed.

  “Charlotte Holcomb, huh?”

  She took a spot on the loveseat but didn’t say anything while he made a fire in the woodstove.

  “Your ex is looking for you,” Jace continued. “He’s been to the police.”

  From her bland expression the news wasn’t anything she didn’t already know.

  “What’s your plan?”

  She seemed to contemplate whether to answer and after a long pause finally said, “At the end of the week I’ll be moving on.”

  “Where to?”

  “I don’t know yet.” She tried to avoid his penetrating stare by dropping her gaze to the floor.

  He sat next to her and lifted her chin with his finger. “Charlie, look at me. I’m not the enemy here. I can help you.”

  “You don’t know what you’re dealing with.” She shivered.

  He didn’t know if it was from fear or the cold. His office didn’t get as much sunlight as the rest of the house. He grabbed the throw off the back of the couch and placed it around her shoulders. “The fire will get warm soon. I know he’s the son of Senator Ainsley. He’s not above the law, Charlie.”

  She closed her eyes. “I’m not so sure about that. He’s crazy. I let a crazy man control me. And he won’t be done until he crushes me, because Corbin Ainsley can’t stand to lose, regardless of the cost. When he finds out I lost the baby, he’ll blame me and he’ll want retribution.”

  “What about your retribution, Charlie? You lost your child, for God’s sake. How about some retribution for you?”

  “Retribution?” she said in a near whisper, startled by the question. “I’m just trying to survive.”

  “You’re safe from him now. He’ll have to get through me to get to you. But let’s put him where he belongs. Let’s put him behind bars, Charlie.”

  She shook her head. “I have to leave. I promised you a week and I’ll give you week, but I’ve got to go.”

  “That would be a mistake, take my word for it. The man has resources and he’ll put them toward looking for you. I say you stay right here, get a restraining order, and when he comes calling, I arrest his ass.”

  “Then what?” She rolled her eyes. “First chance he gets, he’ll bail out. And I’ll be the one to pay. You don’t know Corbin, you don’t know his sense of entitlement.”

  No, Jace didn’t know Corbin Ainsley, but he knew men just like him. Men who thought the world owed them something, men who were cowards and used their fists on defenseless women.

  “I’ve been in law enforcement a long time.” He reached over and lightly touched her arm. It was meant to be reassuring but the softness of her skin made him want to linger. They were talking about an asshole who beat her up, and all he could think about was touching her. What the hell was wrong with him? “It’s your decision whether you want to keep running. But Charlie…Charlotte…you and I both know it’s not the answer. You should take your life back, open another home-goods store or whatever it is you want to do. You shouldn’t have to live out of a car and move from place to place, using a bogus name.”

  “Not completely bogus.” She flashed a wan smile. “My dad used to call me Charlie when I was a girl. With Corbin I lost everything—my sense of safety, my self-worth, my self-respect. I was damned if I was going to lose my name too. So when the time came for me to change my identity, I fought to keep a little piece of it.” She let out a mirthless laugh. “Charlie Rogers. There has to be thousands of them, right?”

  He put his hand over hers. “No one can take your self-worth or your self-respect. Maybe you misplaced them for a time, but I have no doubt you’ll find them again. No doubt at all.”

  Her eyes grew misty and she sniffled. “Thank you for saying that. Thank you…for everything.”

  “Let’s get Corbin Ainsley.” Jace wanted the son-of-a-bitch so bad he could taste it. “Let’s get your life back.”

  “Why? Why would you do this for me? You’re up for reelection, and Corbin’s father…he’s powerful. He knows everyone and can pull strings to hurt your campaign.” She turned sideways on the couch and stared up at him with concern.

  “Have a little faith, Charlie. I grew up here. These are good people. They want a sheriff who puts the law before politics.” Despite Tiffany’s so-called poll, he truly believed that. And even if Jace was wrong, he wasn’t going to turn a blind eye to injustice. It wasn’t the way he was built.

  “Meredith says I need to leave the state, go somewhere where Corbin can’t find me.”

  “Who’s Meredith?”

  Charlie went pale. “No one. Forget I said that. Please.”

  Jace suspected Meredith was with the Rosie the Riveter Foundation but decided to leave Charlie’s slip alone. If she wanted to give Meredith cover it was her prerogative to do so. Jace had no beef with the woman. But Meredith’s advice sucked.

  “That’s not a plan, Charlie,
that’s condemning yourself to life on the run.”

  “A life on the run is better than no life at all.”

  “You think I’d let something happen to you?” He looked at her for a good long time. “My plan’s better.”

  “To get a restraining order? Then I’d have to reveal my address?”

  “Not with a domestic violence restraining order. You can use the Safe at Home program. It’ll give you an address to use for the purpose of court documents. We’ll get a lawyer to help you fill out the paperwork.” After he’d met with Cash for lunch he’d done more research, and the DV restraining order was the way to go. As soon as Corbin walked through it, which Jace knew he ultimately would, the Mill County Sheriff’s Department would pounce. “Did you ever file a complaint with SFPD?” It would sure help if she had.

  She pinned him with a look. “He’s a prominent lawyer and a senator’s son. How far do you think I would’ve gotten?”

  At least they had the emergency-room doc’s report and pictures. That would be enough to secure the TRO.

  “I don’t want to make trouble for you…or the boys. I have places I can go.”

  “Do I look like someone who scares? You’re safe here, Charlie. I can’t guarantee you’ll be safe running. Let’s do this the right way. If you don’t want to report the abuse to SFPD, that’s your choice. But at least get the restraining order, make a record.”

  He kneeled down on the floor in front of her. With her hand in his, he said, “Stay here, Charlie. Let me keep you safe.”

  He would offer the same to anyone under his jurisdiction. But the bottom line was, he didn’t want her to go.

  Ever since he’d found her on that lonely stretch of road, he’d been drawn to her. Attracted to her beauty and her quiet courage. The fact was, she stirred something in him, something that had long been dormant. And he knew if she left he’d never see her again.

  He didn’t believe in fate or destiny, or any of that other romantic garbage. But something told him if she decided to take off it would be a missed opportunity for both of them.

  Her bottom lip quivered and her eyes pooled. “I love it here. You, the boys, the ranch, even that barn.” She bobbed her head at the window, the one that faced her workshop, and sniffled. “But every expert I’ve talked to has said get out—even if it’s just with the clothes on your back—and run. Change your identity and stay off the grid.”

  “That was before you had me in your court.” She started to protest and he held up his hand. “Do me a favor and think about it. You promised me a week. There are a few days left, enough time to digest everything I’ve said. If you decide to leave at the end of a week, I’ll help you any way I can.” He stood up, leaned down, and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Goodnight, Charlie.”

  * * * *

  Charlotte sat by the fire long after Jace had left the room, thinking. She wanted to stay here with every fiber of her being. Changing towns, going from state to state, was no way to live. The ranch, on the other hand, was a haven. And Jace and the boys…she was getting attached to them. There was no question about that.

  Every evening she watched the clock, waiting for Jace to walk through the door, straining to hear his truck come up the driveway. She told herself that he made her feel protected. Safe. But it was more. In the short time she’d known him, he had made her believe in herself again. Depending on her to watch his sons had given her a sense of purpose. And not a day went by when he didn’t compliment her meals or her table settings, or one of her repurposing projects.

  Corbin had never been happy with anything she did. Nothing was ever good enough. In the beginning, his criticisms had been small, petty swipes.

  Charlotte, you call this washing? Look here, you left a spot of sauce on the pan. Charlotte, you’re not really going to wear that are you? I have people to impress.

  But with time, the swipes grew into verbal blows with enough blunt force to do as much damage as the physical beatings. She kept making up excuses for him, convinced that with enough love and patience he’d change. And until he did, she tried not to set him off.

  Here, Jace rarely raised his voice. Of course, he didn’t have to. The man had merely to cock a brow and the boys fell in line. Not because Jace was in any way scary or dictatorial, he just commanded respect from people because he gave it in return.

  And her projects…if she left, she’d never see all of them through. But if she stayed, she’d be a sitting duck because it would only be a matter of time before Corbin found her. And despite Jace’s good intentions, he couldn’t be with her all the time. He worked long hours, keeping the entire county safe. And Corbin was the kind of coward who’d lie in wait until she was alone and vulnerable before pouncing.

  It was a lot to think about. Charlotte would take the next couple of days to make her decision. In the meantime, she’d enjoy every single second of every day here on Dry Creek Ranch.

  Chapter 12

  By the end of the week, Charlotte had made her decision to stay. Meredith had blessed the choice with a healthy degree of trepidation.

  “You’re a hundred percent sure you can trust this sheriff?” she’d asked, sounding doubtful. “In my experience everyone has an agenda, Charlotte. You have to ask yourself, what’s his?”

  A babysitter. Jace needed one, Charlotte told herself. And he was a natural-born protector who saw a woman in need. If there was anything more to it than that, she had no clue what it was. Not once had he made an advance or done anything untoward. The sheriff was a perfect gentleman and it wasn’t as if he didn’t have his pick of the single women in the county.

  Charlotte had watched many a woman’s eyes follow him across the coffee shop on the occasions they’d eaten there. There was a group of single moms at Grady’s school who’d invited Charlotte to join them for coffee at the Starbucks in an adjoining town. It didn’t take long for her to figure out that their interest was in Jace, not in befriending her. The one time she’d gone to their coffee gathering, they’d plied her with questions.

  “You two aren’t romantically involved, right?” asked a bubbly redhead who had seemed to hold her breath until Charlotte had answered that Jace was her employer and nothing more.

  “But you’re living at the ranch in his big house, aren’t you?” asked another one of the moms, this one a blonde with wide blue eyes, whose husband had died in a crane accident at thirty-five.

  The interrogation went on for thirty minutes before Charlotte suddenly remembered she had somewhere to be and politely excused herself.

  So Jace’s patronage was not because he lacked female company. Any one of those women would’ve been more than happy to accommodate any of his wants or needs.

  Whatever the reason he’d taken her under his wing, Charlotte wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  By late February, she’d assimilated to ranch life, adopting Jace’s habit of getting up just as the sun was rising. After he finished his chores they would sit in the kitchen together, sipping coffee, enjoying the peacefulness of the morning until the boys woke up. She often shared the details of her latest project and he told her funny stories about his deputies or the job.

  On one such morning, he talked about the back taxes on the ranch and how he and his cousins were struggling to come up with the cash.

  “You don’t think you’ll lose the land…the house…do you?”

  “Nah,” he said. “My grandfather would roll over in his grave. We’ll figure out something.”

  They sat there for a few moments, just holding each other’s gaze. Charlotte reached across the breakfast table and touched his hand in a gesture of empathy.

  “Have you thought any more of how the ranch could bring in more income other than the money you bring in from the cattle?”

  “Nothing I’m willing to do.” Jace shook his head but had held on to her hand. “I can’t see Cash, Saw
yer, or me running a country store.” He chortled. “And I’m sure as hell not going to put in a golf course or condominium complex. Some folks have planted grapes but I’m not a farmer. It’s not like Mill County is known for its wine anyway. But it is known for its beef.” He stared out the window and eventually said, “We’ll work something out.”

  Subconsciously, his thumb rubbed back and forth against her wrist. She liked the sensation of it, the way his calloused finger felt against her soft skin. There was nothing demanding in his touch, just a gentle soothing that was almost hypnotic.

  But Sawyer walked through the door and broke the mood.

  “You got anything to eat?”

  Charlotte rose, went to the refrigerator and got out the eggs to make him an omelet.

  “Charlie, Sawyer can make his own eggs.”

  Sawyer took the basket from her. “Sit, drink your coffee. I’ll make us all something.”

  “God help us,” Jace said.

  Charlotte didn’t know much about Sawyer other than he was a journalist who was working on a book and that he lived across the field in an old barn he’d converted into a loft apartment. She’d never been inside but was hoping for an invitation just to see what Sawyer had done with the place. Both Jace and Cash referred to Sawyer’s home as “the New York penthouse.” Charlotte wasn’t sure if they were being facetious or it really was something you’d see in a big city.

  But so far, an invitation hadn’t been forthcoming. Like Cash, Sawyer was polite but reserved around her. She knew Jace had told them of her situation and didn’t blame them for being protective of their cousin and his sons. For no doubt they thought her ex would bring trouble. Aubrey, on the other hand, had been extremely welcoming, stopping by Charlotte’s workshop a few times a week to check on her progress with old man Maitland’s “junk,” as everyone liked to call it. On a couple of visits, she’d brought a thermos of coffee and homemade cookies and they’d made an impromptu picnic of it.