“If you ever need someone to talk to,” he began, making her smile.
“Thank you. Ditto for you.” Then, unable to help herself, she reached up and kissed him on the cheek.
Unmoving, he watched until she opened the door and went inside, locking it behind her.
A moment later she heard his truck drive away outside. Eyes stinging with completely unreasonable tears, she listened as the sound faded, until all she could hear was the mournful howling of the wind as it heralded the approaching storm.
Arriving back at the ranch, Damien breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that most of the cars were gone, which meant most of the huge mess of family had gone home. Except for the resident ones.
Parking his truck, he puzzled over Eve Kelley. Of all the girls he’d grown up with, he would have expected her to be married with a bunch of kids by now. Large families were common around these parts—look at his own family. She’d been pretty, popular and fun. The guys had practically fought over the chance to date her back in the day, and now she was nearly forty, unmarried and pregnant.
Talk about the randomness of fate.
None of it, not circumstances or her pregnancy, did anything to dilute his desire. He still wanted her. He’d take her up on her offer to be friends, knowing if she’d give him a chance, he’d prove to her that they could be more. Friends with benefits. He grinned savagely, liking the sound of that.
The house felt settled as he walked in, shedding his coat and hanging it in the hall closet and placing his cowboy hat on the hat rack alongside all the others. Lights from the immense Christmas tree illuminated the great room. All of the earlier boxes and mess had been cleaned away and the decorated mantel combined with the tree to look festive and, oddly enough, holy. Damien couldn’t help but remember the way he’d felt as a small boy, awestruck and overwhelmed at the beautiful tree. He’d used to lie on his back underneath the branches and peer up through them, marveling.
To his surprise, a spark of that little boy still remained.
He wandered over and stood in front of the tree, still thinking of Eve, then eyed the hallway that led to his father’s office. Might as well do some poking around while the entire house slept. Darius never locked the door, believing his inviolable authority made him invulnerable.
Maybe so, but Damien had been screwed over enough.
Moving quietly, he slipped down the hallway and opened the door. Conveniently, Darius had left the desk lamp on.
Damien took a seat in the massive leather chair and started with the obvious—the desk drawers. A quick search turned up exactly nothing.
But, then, what had he expected? Darius was too shrewd to leave incriminating documents anywhere they could be easily read.
Which meant there had to be a safe.
He turned to begin searching for one when a movement from a shadowy corner made him spin around.
Duke stood watching him, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.
“What are you doing?” Duke asked, “You know the old man’s going to be pissed when he finds out you went through his papers.”
“Maybe,” Damien allowed. “If he finds out. I’m not planning on telling him. I’m trying to figure out what happened to our inheritance.”
“What do you mean?”
Since Duke didn’t sound too perturbed, Damien figured his brother hadn’t been given the same unlikely story as he’d heard today. “I asked Darius about it earlier today. You know how I’ve been wanting to buy my own ranch, maybe in Nevada or Idaho?”
“Yeah.” Duke uncrossed his arms and came closer. “Don’t tell me he refused to give you your money. He might be conservator, but you’re well over the age of twenty-one. And you were in prison at the time you turned twenty-one.”
“No.” Damien watched his brother closely. “He didn’t refuse to give it to me. He said it was all gone.”
“What?” Duke’s casual air vanished. Shock filled his brown eyes, so like Damien’s. “How can three million be gone, just like that?”
“Exactly. Tell me, bro. Did you get your inheritance when you turned twenty-one like you were supposed to?”
“Hell, no. He offered to let me use it to buy a share in the ranch and I took it. Darius needed cash for some reason, and I wanted to make sure I’d always have my house and land. So I bought my hundred acres from him.”
“Damn.” Damien closed his eyes. When he reopened them, he saw his brother watching him, a worried expression on his handsome face.
“Are you okay?”
“No,” Damien exploded. “I’m not okay. The entire time I was in prison, I was counting on this money being there for me when I got out. The money the state’s going to pay me won’t buy even twenty acres. How the hell am I going to make a fresh start without any cash?”
“Surely there’s been a mistake.”
“I don’t think so.” Grimly, Damien resumed his search for a safe. “How good are you still at guessing lock combinations?”
“What? You mean to break into Darius’s safe?”
“Once I find it, yes.”
Duke narrowed his eyes. “Well, then, let me help you out. I know where it is. I’ve been in here often enough when Darius had to open it.” He crossed to the wall where a huge, ornately framed oil painting of the ranch hung. “It’s behind this.”
Removing the picture revealed a small wall safe, black, with a touch-pad combination. The entire thing was maybe two feet square.
Damien stood back. “Have at it, bro.” As teens, Duke had exhibited an exceptional skill for picking locks and determining combinations. Within five minutes, he had the safe open.
“There you go,” he said, stepping back.
Reaching inside, Damien extracted a leather-bound notebook and a sheaf of manila folders, held together by a rubber band. There was also a tiny metal box, like the kind used for petty cash. He removed everything and placed it on the desk.
“I’m out of here, man,” Duke said.
“Will you just stand guard for me? I just need a few minutes.” He started with the leather book. “Surely there’s something in here that will tell what happened to my inheritance.”
Inside the book were receipts for wire transfers. All of them were withdrawals from his account made over a period of three years. “Bingo,” he said softly. “My money.”
Though clearly reluctant, Duke moved over to take a look.
“How do you know it was yours?” Duke asked. “You know when Grandfather died he left all of our money in the same account. I authorized Darius to take mine, and maybe Wes, Finn, Maisie and the others did the same.”
“But I didn’t authorize anything. Yet Darius claims the account has been closed and there’s nothing there.”
“Did you see the bank statement?”
“He wouldn’t let me.” Damien flashed him a grim smile, reaching for the manila folders. “Oh, damn.”
“That looks like a second set of accounting records for the Colton ranch.” Duke scratched his head. “Why would he have that? Unless…”
Without answering, Damien continued digging. “Look here. A list of some sort of vendors and receipts for transactions.”
“Transactions of what?”
“I don’t know.” But he had a good idea. The FBI had approached him shortly after he’d been released from prison, intimating they were investigating Darius. Damien, still smarting from his father’s refusal even to visit him in prison, had agreed to act as their insider, an informant of sorts. This was exactly the sort of thing they’d expect him to report.
“I think our father has been running a little business on the side.”
Duke cursed. “What are you going to do? You can’t be thinking of turning him in?”
“I don’t know.”
“Damien, you know how the old man is. I doubt he’d survive a year being locked up. I’m not sure I could do that to him.”
“But then again, he didn’t steal your money, did he? You handed it ove
r to him, lock, stock and barrel.”
“Please, think about this before you do anything rash.”
Flipping through the last of the folders, Damien reached for the metal box. Duke reached for his hand to stop him. “Hold up.”
“What?”
“You’ve found enough. Put it back. I think we need to talk to Wes and Finn before we do anything.”
Clenching his jaw, Damien stared at his twin. “I’m not asking you to do anything.”
“This is a family matter.” Moving with purpose, Duke took the metal box, folder and notebook and placed them back in the safe, exactly the way they’d been. “We—or you—aren’t doing anything until we talk to the others.”
“What about Maisie?” Damien asked. “She has a right to be involved, too.”
Duke shot him a hard glance. “If you can trust her to keep her mouth shut, fine. But you know, she’s been contacting that TV show, trying to get them out here to do an exposé on the town.”
“She’s been talking about that, but I don’t think anyone there took her seriously.”
“I know. Let’s keep it that way, okay?”
Reluctantly, Damien agreed, watching as Duke resecured the safe and replaced the painting.
“Come on,” his brother said, putting a hand on Damien’s shoulder. “Let’s go to the kitchen and see if we can rustle up a late-night snack. There are bound to be some of those hot wings left.”
Feeling both disgruntled and slightly relieved, Damien agreed. A decision needed to be made about Darius, but he wouldn’t have to make it alone.
The next morning the snowplows worked the roads bright and early. Eve woke to the peculiar blinding whiteness of sun on snow. As she padded to the kitchen to make a pot of decaf and get the hearth fire going before letting Max out, she couldn’t stop thinking of Damien and his offer.
Just looking at the man made her mouth go dry. What he proposed was very, very tempting. The fact that she could even think like this should have made her angry with herself, but she was pragmatic at heart and believed in calling a spade a spade.
Damien Colton made her go weak in the knees. Always had, always would.
The knowledge unsettled her. So much so that after she’d finished her first cup of coffee, she started cleaning her kitchen. She knew she’d find comfort in the physical work and satisfaction in the finished results.
About ninety minutes into her cleaning binge, when she’d finished the kitchen and the two bathrooms and started on the den, Max’s barking alerted her that a car had pulled up into the drive. Her mother. Perspiring and grungy, and knowing she could use a break, Eve went to the front door and opened it wide.
“You’re out bright and early on a snowy morning,” she said brightly.
Bonnie Gene’s gaze swept over her daughter. “It’s not morning. It’s well after noon.”
“Well, good afternoon then.” Eve wiped her hands on her sweats. “You caught me in the middle of cleaning. What’s going on?” Moving aside, she waited until her mother entered before closing the door.
“I have fantastic news!” Bonnie Gene gushed the moment she stepped inside. Sweeping into the foyer in her usual dramatic fashion, she eyed Eve’s pitiful attempts at Christmas decorating before focusing back on her daughter.
“You are not going to believe this. Guess what I’ve arranged?”
“I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“Can the sarcasm.” Too excited to note—or care about—Eve’s less-than-enthusiastic reaction, Bonnie Gene clapped her gloved hands together. “I’ve set you up on a blind date.”
“Not another blind date,” Eve protested.
“This is not an ordinary blind date—it’s the coup de grâce of all blind dates! You are going out with Gary Jackson!”
“Who?”
“You know, Gary Jackson the attorney? He just moved here a few months ago and I know for a fact all the single girls want to go out with him. He’s tall, handsome and—”
“Full of himself.” Eve dragged her hand through her hair. “Mother, we agreed. No more blind dates.”
“You agreed. I said nothing. And listen, this one is too good to be true. You can’t pass this up.”
“Does he even know?”
Bonnie blinked. “What?”
“Does this Gary Jackson even know he has a blind date with me? Remember, the last guy you set me up with and forced me to go on a date with had no idea. I was never so embarrassed in my life.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Bonnie Gene rolled her eyes. “It all worked out, if I remember correctly.”
“No, it didn’t. He was a stalker, mother. I had to get Wes Colton involved. Thank goodness that guy left town.”
Removing her coat, Bonnie Gene wandered into the great room, standing in front of the fire. “Ahhh. That feels so good. Listen, both Gary’s mother and I went through a lot of work to arrange this. I’d really appreciate you going on this date. As a favor to me.”
The old guilt trick. Eve refused to fall for it. “No.”
“Come on. What else do you have to do?”
Eve crossed her arms. “Do you really want a list?”
Dropping down onto the couch, her mother sighed, removing her gloves and scarf and loosening her coat. “You know I only want what’s best for you.”
“Yes, but you’ve got to stop this obsessive trolling to find me a husband. I’m nearly forty. I can find my own man.”
“Oh, can you?” Bonnie Gene pounced. “Then tell me, what have you been doing to try and meet someone?”
“Here we go again. Mother, don’t start.”
“Fine. But you know I want grandchildren.”
If ever Eve had been tempted to reveal her pregnancy, now would be the time. But her mother would broadcast the news all over town and right now, with the Mark Walsh fiasco in full swing, the last thing Honey Creek needed was more scandal. Nope, Eve just wanted to get through the holidays before dropping her bombshell.
“I know you want grandchildren, Mother. You’ve informed me of that nonstop for the last ten years.”
“Well, then,” Bonnie said brightly. “Since I’ve already arranged this date, will you please go?”
Bonnie Gene looked so contrite, Eve softened. As she always did. Sucker. “I’ll go, but only if you give me your absolute word that this is the last blind date you arrange for me.”
Grinning, Bonnie Gene nodded. “Do you want me to pinky swear?”
“Just give me your word, Mother.”
“Fine.” Huffing, Bonnie Gene grimaced. “You have my word. No more blind dates.”
“Ever.”
“Fine. No more blind dates ever.” Her frown faded and she grinned. “Maybe this date with Gary Jackson will lead to something permanent and you won’t need another blind date.”
Oh geez. “Maybe. Who knows?” Sighing, Eve went into the kitchen. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
“I’d love one. Do you want my help picking out an outfit for your date?”
Midway to the kitchen, Eve paused. Turning, she eyed her mother, dreading the answer yet knowing she had to ask.
“When is this date with Gary Jackson, by the way?”
“Tonight.”
Chapter 3
Eve nearly said a curse word in front of her mother. “Tonight? How could you do this to me?”
“Please,” Bonnie scoffed. “You’ve got over six hours to get ready. It’s not like you have to be there for lunch or anything.”
“Where’s there?”
“You’re meeting him for drinks and dinner at the Corner Bar and Grill.”
Of course. Her mother knew that was Eve’s favorite place, as well as the second-most popular place in town, Kelley’s Cookhouse being first.
Putting the kettle on the stove, Eve got out two mugs and two teabags of orange pekoe tea.
“Everyone will see me there,” she groused, secretly glad her mother hadn’t chosen to have her meet Gary at the family’s barbecue restaurant.
She’d done that before and Eve had spent the entire evening answering questions about what it was like to be part of the family that owned a famous franchised restaurant. Worse, her date had expected free food and had ordered one of everything on the menu. He’d been shocked, then angry, when Eve had informed him they still had to pay.
“Exactly! There’s a live band tonight, the High Rollers, I think. So you know the place will be packed. Everyone will see you there with Gary,” Bonnie enthused. “That man is quite a catch. The town will be talking about it for days!”
A catch? Mentally, she rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Mom. I’m not exactly fishing.”
“No, you’re not,” her mother said with a wry twist of her mouth. “Which is why I have to help you. You’ve got me baiting the hook and casting for you. Now all you’ve got to do is reel him in.”
Reel him in. Had they been mysteriously teleported back to the fifties when she hadn’t been looking? Deciding to ignore the phrase, as she always did when Bonnie Gene started on this subject, Eve stared at the teakettle, willing it to whistle. A good cup of tea went far to sooth frazzled nerves.
Taking her silence for assent, Bonnie Gene came closer. “What are you going to wear? If you’d like, I could pick out your outfit.”
“Oh, for—” Biting off the words, Eve forced a smile. “Mom, don’t worry about that. I’ve got it covered.”
Six hours later, standing in front of the mirror, Eve wondered why she’d agreed to this. She couldn’t help but wonder if Gary Jackson wondered the same thing. If he was such a “catch,” as her mother put it, she doubted he needed to be set up on a blind date.
But, heavens knows, Bonnie Gene Kelley could be pretty persistent when she wanted to be.
For her dinner date, Eve had chosen a thick sweaterdress with a cowl neckline in flattering shades of brown, cream and gold. Brown leggings and soft suede knee-length boots completed her outfit. She brushed her shoulder-length blond hair until it shone, swiped a tube of lip gloss over her lips, and told herself she was ready.
In fact, she’d rather be doing almost anything else. Even pooper-scooping Max’s poo seemed preferable to yet another blind date set up by her own mother. How pathetic was that?
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