How could things be moving this fast? Hell, they hadn’t even gone on a real date yet. He wanted to take her on a carriage ride, dance with her at the Blue Creek Saloon, be by her side as she experienced her first rodeo, share the beauty of a Wyoming sunset from the front porch of his log home and watch her awaken in the morning as the sunrise shone through the oversize window that filled one wall of his bedroom....
Now that the auction was over, would he have the chance to do any of those things with her? Despite her being on what she called a sabbatical from her job in L.A., he figured she planned to return home eventually. Would she ever be willing to leave that ritzy life behind for a much quieter one here in Destiny? Was he crazy enough to think that the past four weeks—and one night of great sex—were enough to build a future on?
“Excuse me, Dean. Can I speak with you for a minute?”
Dean turned and found Jill Doucette, one of the owners of the bakery, standing there. “Sure, Jill. What’s up?”
She backed up through a door that led into the kitchen and motioned for him to follow her. He did, right into the tiny office, noticing she held something rolled up in her hands.
“We got these in this morning.” Jill unfurled what turned out to be a magazine. “They’re not supposed to go on display until tomorrow, but when I opened the box...”
There were three images on the glossy cover of the Jackson Star: one of him dressed in scrubs on stage during the auction, one of Priscilla and him in a heated argument, and a last shot of Jacqueline, posing in her fur coat with a drink in one hand in a bidding paddle in the other. The headline read “Hollywood Heiress Saves Summer Camp and Heals Heart?”
He let out a colorful expletive that would’ve had his mother and his nonni cuffing him upside the head. He had no idea the reporters Priscilla’s sister had brought to the auction that night were connected to this gossip rag. He yanked open the cover and quickly scanned the article, his shock turning to outrage at how Priscilla was portrayed as a martyr who’d come to town and single-handedly saved Camp Diamond after being dumped by her millionaire boyfriend.
Priscilla had told him all that had gone on with her sister and her ex-boyfriend, including how Jacqueline had ended up here in town, during the wee hours of the morning, so none of that was a surprise. Hell, she’d told him how she, with her father’s connections, had been cleaning up Jacqueline’s messes for years. Funny how neither one of them had even thought about how this latest fiasco of her sister’s would turn out when the article was published. They’d had been too distracted, or unwilling, to think too far outside of what was happening right there in Priscilla’s bed.
As he continued reading, Dean’s stomach flipped over and then crashed to his feet when he found he was quoted in the article as well, and it wasn’t good. Or the truth. Some of the phrasing sounded familiar, and he racked his brain trying to figure out how—
Friday night. After the auction. The stranger who’d sat beside him when he and Bobby talked must’ve been a reporter. Dammit!
He looked at Jill and read sympathy in her gaze. “My folks and I have decided not to display this issue, but White’s Liquors and the general store carry it, as well. My mom’s already headed to both places to talk to them....” Her voice trailed off and she shrugged, silently telling him that there was no way to stop the article from being seen, as the magazine was probably available statewide.
An employee interrupted them, Dean’s order in his hands. He took it, even though his appetite was gone, thanked Jill profusely and hurried from the store. His only thought was to get to Priscilla before someone else showed her this garbage.
When he got to the inn, he was glad to see Priscilla’s car in the parking lot. Having no idea how he was going to tell her, Dean shoved the magazine into the bag of food and went inside. As he headed toward her room, he noticed the door was ajar. What the—
He rapped hard with his knuckles, pushed it open and stepped inside. “Priscilla? Are you here?”
“Oh!” The shriek fell from her lips as she whipped around, nearly falling from where she sat perched on the edge of the bed. “Dean!”
“Sorry if I scared you,” he said, ignoring the wild beating of his own heart. “Your door was open and I got worried there for second.”
He placed the food on a nearby table and then noticed the large amount of money in her hands and a cashbox on the bed. Latching on to any excuse to put off talking about the magazine for the moment, he said, “Is that the take from the bachelor auction? You never told me the final tally. Can I help you count?”
“No, that’s okay—” Her voice cracked and Priscilla crushed the bills to her chest. “I don’t need any help. I’ll finish this later.” She cleared her throat and turned away, but not before Dean had seen the redness in her eyes and the bright patches on her cheeks.
His heart sank as he glanced back at the food. Had she already seen the article? Had she read it? Did she think he had actually said those things?
“Is there a reason why you’ve been crying?”
“I’m not...crying. I just don’t feel very well.” She pulled in a deep breath and a shudder caused her shoulders to quiver. “Can we please do lunch another time?”
If she thought he was just going to walk away, she had a thing or two to learn about him. “I can’t leave you like this.”
“Like what?” Priscilla’s voice rose. “I’m fine. Please...I just want to—”
Dean sat on the bed next to her. “Something’s wrong. Tell me.”
His weight caused the mattress to shift and the cashbox toppled to the floor, its top springing open and the contents falling out. “Ah, hell. Sorry about that.”
Dropping to his knees, Dean began gathering the personal checks, credit-card receipts and a large amount of cash. Confused, he looked up and found Priscilla staring at him, astonishment on her face.
He glanced back and forth between the cash in his hand and the money she still held in hers. “I don’t get it. What’s with the two piles of money? Were you planning to match the funds that were raised?”
* * *
The money was back.
The fear and dread that had been churning inside of Priscilla reached a fever pitch when Dean walked into her room moments ago, but now it morphed into elation when she saw the cash lying on the floor among the paperwork. Tears filled her eyes again. Somehow during the hour and a half it had taken her to get down to Laramie, get the replacement funds and return, Jacqueline had come back and replaced what she had taken to the cashbox that Priscilla had left lying on her bed.
“Can you explain this?”
Priscilla brushed the wetness from her cheeks, remembering the large amount of money she held in her own hands. She looked down at it, realizing Dean’s assumption would be a perfect excuse to describe what was going on, but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t lie to him.
Pulling in a deep breath, she slowly released it and decided to start at the beginning. “Well, I went to count the receipts this morning—”
“And discovered your sister had stolen the cash?”
Priscilla gasped and then saw the handwritten note Dean held in his hand.
“‘Please forgive me.’” Dean’s mocking tone stung as he flipped the card around and read her sister’s words. “‘I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s all here. Love, Jacqueline.’”
Priscilla’s head spun. “I—I can’t believe she did that.”
“I can’t believe you were going to cover for her.”
Priscilla stared at him, not surprised that he’d figured it out so quickly. “I know replacing the cash was a knee-jerk reaction—”
“Ya think?” Dean got to his feet, shoving the paperwork and the money back inside the box. “I would’ve thought the last month had cured you of that.”
Priscilla stood, he
r back now ramrod straight. She shuffled the bills in her hand into a neat pile before shoving them back into a nearby envelope. “I’ve been taking care of my sister pretty much since she was eight years old. It’s not a switch I can turn off so easily.”
Dean tossed the box onto the bed. “Since your mother died. Yes, you told me stories last night about how you saved her ass time and time again, but this is different. You can’t use your money or your position in society to change the fact that she broke the law and you’re letting her get away with it.”
“The money is back. No crime actually took place.” It was a fine line, but not one she was willing to cross. At least not yet. “There’s no reason to tell anyone about this.” She shuddered at the thought of what the press would do with this—the press! Oh, no! How had she completely forgotten about those reporters at the auction Friday night? She’d been so caught up in dealing with her sister, the camp, getting Holly ready and then last night with Dean...
“Except maybe the sheriff?”
Closing her eyes, Priscilla drew in a deep breath. “You talked about your family, too. About their rich history in law enforcement. I know how you must feel about something like this—”
“You have no idea.”
“Jacqueline is my sister. I know what she did was wrong. Very wrong and it can’t be excused. But I made the decision to make things right in the best way possible for everyone.”
Judging by the way Dean stood there, feet planted apart and arms crossed over his chest, it didn’t matter what she said. They stared at each other, silence filling the air as neither one was willing to bend. Then, just for a moment, she thought she’d seen a hint of empathy or kindness in his eyes before he blinked and it disappeared.
“Are you planning on telling someone about what happened?” she asked.
“No. But not because I don’t think I should.”
There was another long beat of silence.
“I better go,” he whispered, his voice miserable.
Priscilla clenched her hands to her stomach, wanting so much to cross the small space between them and fling her arms around him, but experience and the unofficial Lennox family motto of keeping emotions in check in front of others kept her rooted to her spot except for a brief nod. “That would probably be best.”
Dean turned around and walked out.
She stood there for moment longer, trying to convince herself that not running after him was the right thing to do. It was then she noticed the paper sack he’d left on the table. She turned away, but her gaze landed on the four-poster bed. Had only a few hours passed since she’d awakened warm and safe in Dean’s arms as they talked and made plans for lunch?
Eating was the last thing she wanted to do right now, so she grabbed the bag and walked over to the small refrigerator. At the sound of the door opening, Snake appeared at her side. “Taking refuge in the bathroom again, huh? You are one smart dog.”
She gave him a treat and then placed the two sandwiches and the bottled waters inside the refrigerator before her hand caught on something inside the bag.
Pulling out a magazine, she sucked in a shallow breath. It was a tabloid! Those reporters her sister had brought to the auction had been from a celebrity tabloid!
For the second time in less than thirty days, Priscilla Lennox found herself featured in a clever headline that was only a prelude to what she was sure was a scintillating article inside. Unlike the first time, when she’d never bothered to look for the published report online, Priscilla flipped open the magazine and began to read.
Her knees buckled before she got through the first few paragraphs. When she got to the unnamed female source quoted as saying Priscilla had showed these country bumpkins a thing or two about putting on a fund-raiser, she collapsed to the carpet.
Snake whimpered and crawled into her lap. Priscilla petted him, certain her aching heart couldn’t take much more. She almost stopped reading, but then found a quote attributed to an unnamed male that could only be Dean as he described her high heels and twenty-four-karat words.
She tossed the magazine aside. It was only a matter of time before everyone in town read this article, and while most intelligent adults knew the difference between tabloid journalism and the real stuff, there were many who would believe it. As much as she hated to admit it, portions of what was written did have a ring of truth.
She was an outsider. She didn’t belong here and others obviously felt the same way. It was time for this fairy tale to come to an end. Still, she sat in that very spot for hours, waiting to see if her sister would return. Finally, she decided to pack her bags.
The sun was setting when she checked out of the inn, securing the cashbox in the main safe located in the office downstairs. Leaving like this, without telling anyone, was a cowardly thing to do. She tried to justify it by telling herself that she should be gone before word of the magazine article got around town.
“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” Minnie asked as she gave Priscilla a hug goodbye. “You seem a bit upset, dear.”
“I’m fine. I just need to return to L.A. to deal with some unexpected family business.” Priscilla tugged on Snake’s, leash as the dog proved reluctant to leave the inn’s front porch. “Please thank the Major for me. I loved spending time here.”
It was hard to believe after all the crying she’d done today that she had any tears left, but when the sharp sting reached the back of her eyes, Priscilla scooped Snake into her arms, hurried to her car and headed for the West Coast.
* * *
The pounding on Dean’s front door matched the pounding inside his head, and Daisy’s barking didn’t help. He stumbled from his couch and blindly made his way to the foyer, almost tripping over his dog before yanking open the door.
Bobby stood there waving something in his hand, but Dean’s blurred vision, combined with the morning sun, made it impossible for him to see anything clearly.
“What?” he croaked. “What are you doing here so early?”
Bobby pushed past him and came inside. At least that meant Dean could close the door. He did so and then turned around, finding himself face-to-face with his best friend.
“Are you crazy?”
Bobby shoved something at him and Dean grabbed at it, but missed. The object landed on the floor with a light thump, and then he saw his own image staring back at him and realized it was that gossip rag. The sudden pain in his chest was worse than the headache slamming around in his brain. “Where in the hell did you get that?”
“I take it from your question you already know about that piece of crap. You want to explain?”
Talking was the last thing Dean wanted to do, but the look on his buddy’s face told him that arguing would only be a waste of breath. He pushed past Bobby and headed for the kitchen. Pouring two cups of coffee, he thanked whoever invented programmable coffeemakers, and downed two mouthfuls. Then Bobby entered the room with Daisy close behind, the magazine held tight in her jaw.
Dean had realized a few hours after their argument that he’d never talked to Priscilla about the article. He’d tried to call her a few times, if for no other reason than to make sure she knew the truth about what he’d said—and hadn’t said—but he’d never even reached her voice mail on her cell phone.
Bobby grabbed the second mug and then said, “Since you seem to be having a hard time getting your mouth moving this morning, I’ll start. Priscilla left town last night.”
Stumbling backward, Dean landed on one of his barstools. He grabbed at the wooden seat with one hand, praying it would anchor his suddenly spinning world. The news was the last thing he’d expected, even after everything that had happened yesterday.
“Leeann and I woke up this morning to an email sent around midnight that said she had an emergency in L.A. and she apologized for leaving so abruptly. The fact she inc
luded attachments of all of her fund-raising plans for the camp leads us to believe she’s not coming back anytime soon. If ever.” Bobby gestured with his coffee cup to the magazine, which Daisy was in the process of tearing up into tiny little pieces. “And I think that article, and you, have more to do with her being gone than anything else.”
Bobby’s words left him feeling hollow. Dean explained everything that had happened in the past couple of days, including how the money had disappeared and then reappeared. By the time he was done, he felt better despite his raging hangover.
“That’s all you’ve got?” Bobby gave a disgusted sigh. “You need to fix this.”
“Really? That’s the only advice you’ve got?”
“You’re in love with this woman, Zip. Do I have to say that aloud? Fine, I’ll tell you again and maybe it’ll sink into your thick skull. You. Love. Her. You need her in your life, the camp needs her, the town needs her.” Bobby pointed at Daisy. “Your mutt even needs her. I can’t put it any plainer than that.”
Bobby was right.
Dean had to talk to Priscilla, to apologize for being the biggest idiot in the world and, if it wasn’t too late, tell her he loved her and wanted her to be in his life. He might not agree with her covering for her sister, but he understood all too well about loyalty, something he’d witnessed time and time again in the veterans he’d helped. They had each other’s backs both on the battlefield and off. “Where do I start? Los Angeles is a bit bigger than Destiny.”
Bobby grinned and pulled out his cell phone. “First, get yourself in the shower. The sooner you resemble a human being the better. Then pack a bag.”
Dean stood up and started for his bedroom, then paused and turned back. “I’m not just going to show up on her doorstep, am I? Or at her office?”
“No, you’ll need some help to do this right. I’ve still got some connections in L.A. Don’t worry, she’ll never know what hit her.”
Stripping off his shirt, Dean hoped his friend was right as he headed for the shower, praying it wasn’t too late for him to fix the biggest mistake of his life.
Destiny's Last Bachelor? Page 19
