“Don’t mind a bit.” He parked his grocery cart next to the lamppost and ambled toward the front of her car. He tried the hood and then made a clicking motion with his fingers.
Idiot. She hadn’t released the hood. She reached beneath the steering column and yanked on the release lever. The hood popped, and the man thrust it up with a creak.
She could see his hands moving among the innards of her truck, but not the rest of him. Maybe he was making the situation worse so she’d break down and be at his mercy.
Closing her eyes, she took a deep, cleansing breath of the cold, clear Colorado air. That might have happened in D.C. where strangers stalked you and broke into your apartment and where roommates disappeared without a trace and nobody seemed to care, but she’d relocated, temporarily at least, to laid-back Colorado. Those kinds of things didn’t happen here...did they?
He slammed the hood, and she flinched. “Give it a try now.”
She turned the ignition and the truck growled to life. Good-looking and handy. She poked her head out the window. “Thanks. How’d you do that?”
“You had a loose fuel clip.” He wiped his hands on the seat of his jeans. “I tightened it up, but you should have a mechanic check it out so it doesn’t happen again. You might need a new fuel pump.”
“Thanks again.” She chewed her lip. Should she offer him money? Invite him out for coffee? She’d promised herself a fresh start and that meant being open to new relationships instead of hiding in a hole.
He smacked the roof of the car, and she flinched again. “No problem, but get it checked out. Looks like it might snow, and you don’t want to be stranded on the road.”
She shivered in her jacket. “That’s for sure.”
The man retrieved his grocery cart and wheeled away with the wave of his hand and a long stride.
She’d missed her opportunity to thank him properly, but maybe he was in town for the skiing and she’d see him again. She could buy him coffee then—even if he had a wife or girlfriend with him because, honestly, that man couldn’t possibly be available.
She allowed herself a small smile as she navigated through the parking lot. It had been a long time since she’d wondered about a man’s marital status. Dr. Eliason would see it as progress.
The old truck rumbled along the road out of Buck Ridge, along with other vehicles heading away from the ski resort and back to condos and cabins for the night. She hadn’t been back to the old homestead in several years, and the activity around the ski resort had surprised her—in a good way.
She’d worried about the loneliness of retreating to the empty ranch house. Her father had died years ago, and Mom, frail and increasingly plagued by her obsessive-compulsive disorder, had moved in with Aunt Kathy down in Scottsdale.
And her brother, Ted? No telling where he’d been holing up for the past few years.
So the ranch had fallen to her. There’d been a time when she and Alex had planned to live at the ranch and paint and sculpt and sell their stuff to tourists.
Tears blurred her vision, and she wiped the back of her hand across her nose. Even if some thief hadn’t murdered her husband, Noelle knew they would’ve never made it to their golden years together.
That had made Alex’s death even harder to deal with—the guilt.
The truck hiccuped a few times on the way back to the ranch, but the cowboy had done a good job.
She passed the entrance to the Bar N Ranch, and on a whim, made a U-turn at the next turnout. Her friend Tara Nettles had moved back home a few years ago after her divorce. They’d run into each other on Noelle’s first day back in town and had lunch, and Tara had told her to drop by anytime.
The truck churned up dirt on the road to the house. Too bad the cowboy wasn’t here to make sure the truck started again when it was time to leave.
Tara must’ve seen her coming because she was heading down the front steps before Noelle even stopped the truck. Noelle slid from the front seat and hopped to the ground.
“You said anytime, and I was passing by. Do you want me to come back another time?”
Tara flipped her long black hair over her shoulder. “Perfect timing. I just took some cookies out of the oven.”
“I can smell them from here.” Noelle sniffed the sweet scent of vanilla on the air. “Didn’t take you for the baking kind, Tara.”
“I’m a regular prairie home companion out here even though we have mountains instead.” She rolled her eyes. “Come on in. Mom’s been anxious to see you ever since I told her we had lunch.”
Tara took her by the arm and led her up the porch steps. “Ma, look who dropped by.”
Noelle followed Tara into the kitchen, cheerful with its yellow walls and blue-and-yellow chintz curtains. Mrs. Nettles sat at the kitchen table, cradling a cup of something hot. She lowered her glasses to her nose. “Noelle Dupree. You still look just like my Tara.”
“Don’t get up.” Noelle bent over the older woman and kissed the papery skin of her cheek. “You look great.”
Mrs. Nettles waved her hands. “I look like hell. Hasn’t your mother told you that growing old isn’t for sissies?”
“Something like that.”
“Of course, neither is life.” Mrs. Nettles tilted her head. “Tara told me what happened to your husband, dear. What a tragedy.”
“Yes, it was.” Noelle blinked. Mrs. Nettles didn’t know that the real tragedy was that Noelle hadn’t loved her husband enough. Maybe if she had that whole night would’ve turned out differently.
“Cookies?” Tara held up a plate piled high with lumpy rounds.
Noelle wrinkled her nose. “What I said before about you not being the baking kind? It doesn’t look like you are.”
“These?” Tara thrust the plate at her. “They may not look perfect, but they’re yummy. Right, Ma?”
“They’re oatmeal, chocolate chip.” Mrs. Nettles shrugged her thin shoulders. “She thinks everything tastes better with a few chocolate chips thrown in.”
“I agree.” Noelle reached for a cookie and took a bite. “Mmm, perfection.”
“Told you.” Tara pulled out a chair. “Have a seat. Do you want some coffee?”
“I can’t stay long. I have groceries in the car.”
Tara tugged her sweater around her body. “Nothing’s going to spoil in this weather.”
“So how does small-town life compare to Chicago?” Noelle licked some chocolate from her fingers. When Tara and her husband had divorced, she’d left him in Chicago and returned home to take care of her mother. And apparently take up baking.
“Of course, it’s a lot slower, but the popularity of that ski resort has changed things up a bit from when we were kids. People lock their doors now, for one thing.”
“Crime in Buck Ridge?”
“Mostly around the resort. Like any ski resort, it attracts drifters and partiers and scammers.”
And which category fit the cowboy?
“Then how much longer before Buck Ridge lures that brother of yours back here?” Mrs. Nettles wagged her finger.
“Half brother,” Noelle answered automatically.
“Don’t worry, Ma.” Tara dragged a finger along the inside of the mixing bowl and popped some cookie dough into her mouth. “I don’t have the hots for Teddy Dupree anymore.”
Mrs. Nettles eyed her daughter over the top of her glasses. “I should hope not. One bad relationship in a woman’s life is enough. Look at Noelle and that sweet boy. That marriage would’ve lasted a lifetime.”
“Maybe Noelle doesn’t want to talk about Alex, Ma.” Tara mouthed sorry to Noelle behind a cupped hand.
“It did last a lifetime—his.” Noelle pushed off the counter. “I’d better get those groceries home. Goodbye, Mrs. Nettles.”
Tara trailed her to the door and slipped out onto the porch with her. “Sorry about my mother. She thinks everyone’s relationships are better than mine.”
“They’re not. Alex and I—”
Tara h
eld up her hands. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. What happened to Alex...and you was horrible. Whatever your relationship was, it shouldn’t have ended like that.”
Noelle puffed a few breaths into the cold night. “I’ll let your mom believe in fairy tales.”
Tara gave her a quick hug and watched her walk to the truck. “Are you going to drive that old thing around while you’re here or get something else?”
“The truck’s okay. I’m not going to be here long enough to buy another car—just a month or two.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Drive carefully. It got dark while you were inside, but at least the snow hasn’t come in yet.”
Noelle waved and climbed into the truck. Holding her breath, she turned the key. The engine turned over with a rattle, but it did turn over. That cowboy knew his stuff.
She eased the truck back up the dirt road and turned onto the two-lane highway. It was more deserted now, but still several headlights from town caught up with her and followed her along the highway.
She signaled well in advance before aiming the truck between the posts that marked the entrance to the ranch. Her ranch. When Mom had moved in with her sister, she’d signed the property over to Noelle.
No reason for her mom to leave anything to Ted, since Noelle’s half brother wasn’t her mother’s blood. Dad could’ve provided for his son before he had died, but he had figured Ted would gamble it, drink it or drug it all away.
Probably figured right, but that didn’t stop Noelle from feeling bad that their father hadn’t left anything to Ted. Her mother had probably had a hand in that decision.
Noelle had left a light on in the house, but not the porch light since she hadn’t planned to stay out after dark. She swung the truck in front of the house, illuminating it with her headlights.
Cutting the engine, she left the headlights on so she wouldn’t kill herself going up those rickety steps. The moon had disappeared behind leaden clouds that threatened snow.
She lifted one bag of groceries from the back of the truck and picked her way across the dirt and gravel that littered the path to the front door. She set the bag on the porch and fumbled for her keys.
She unlocked the door and pushed it open, stooping to scoop up the grocery bag on her way in. Two steps into the room and she stopped. The smell. Cologne. Men’s cologne. The same cologne favored by her late husband.
Squishing the bag against her chest, she glanced around the living room. Her gaze darted from the magazines she’d stacked on the coffee table, now askew, to the sweatshirt she’d hung by its hood on the doorknob of the closet. It now hung by the back collar.
Panic pumped into her system, and she released her breath in short spurts.
Not again.
Clutching the bag, she spun around and made a beeline for the front door, which still gaped open. When the cold air hit her face, she dropped the bag and stumbled over it.
The headlights blinded her now, and she held her hands in front of her, clawing her way back to the truck and safety.
Until she collided with a body.
Chapter Three
Noelle flew down the front steps and hit his chest. J.D. staggered back, wrapping his arms around her soft body.
She arched her back, drove her heel against the tip of his boot and raised her hands as if to claw his face.
“Whoa, whoa.” He crushed her against his frame with one arm and cinched both of her wrists with his other hand. “What’s wrong? It’s me—the guy who fixed your car.”
Her fingers relaxed, but she continued to struggle against him. “Let me go!”
“Are you sure?” With her flailing limbs and rigid muscles, she wouldn’t be able to stand on her own two feet.
“Let me go!” This time her voice had a distinct growl around the edges.
He released her, and, as he’d predicted, she stumbled to the ground. Her eyes, iridescent in the glare of the truck’s headlights, glowed at him as if they belonged to some fierce creature of the night.
Stepping in front of the truck to block the blinding lights, he stuck out his hand. “Are you okay? Why did you attack me?”
She eyed him over her bent knees, the heels of her hands digging into the ground behind her. “I didn’t attack you. What are you doing here?”
“Just wanted to make sure you made it home okay.” That had a false ring to it, since Noelle had stopped at the ranch down the road on her way home. He kept his hand extended in case she changed her mind.
“I did, but...” She cranked her head over her shoulder and looked at the house, the open door behind the screen door, a soft light filtering through the mesh.
J.D.’s pulse picked up speed. Noelle hadn’t been running at him but rather away from something in the house. He hooked a hand beneath her arm and nudged her. “What’s wrong?”
She allowed him to pull her to her feet. Still gazing at the house, she brushed the dirt from her jeans. “I—I think someone broke into my house.”
Damn. Had Zendaris’s men followed her already? They must be confident she knew something about the plans or had them in her possession. Zendaris grew bolder by the week.
“You think?”
“I put things in a certain order.” She folded her arms across her chest and hunched her shoulders. “Someone changed that order. I could tell someone had been in there.”
“Do you know for a fact that someone is gone?” He put his hands on his hips, his fingers resting on the weapon secured in his gun bag.
Her eyes widened. “No. I noticed the items out of order and took off.”
“Smart thing to do.” But then, she’d had practice at that sort of thing. He unzipped his gun bag and withdrew his weapon. “I’m going to check it out.”
“Do you know how to use that thing?” She pointed to the gun clutched in his hand.
You have no idea, darlin’. “I’ve had a little practice. Do you want to wait on the porch or come inside with me?”
“I’ll come with you.”
He opened the screen door and the bottom hinge fell off the doorjamb.
Noelle, who’d been close behind him, jumped, bumping against his back. “I must’ve caused that when I flung open the door.”
“We’ll deal with that later.” He rested the bottom corner of the screen door on the porch, an idea forming in his head about a way to get close to Noelle without arousing her suspicion—because she had a lot of suspicions.
He stepped over the threshold, his gun leading the way, and surveyed the front room. He saw no glaring evidence of a break-in. Noelle must be more skittish than an unbroken pony.
“How do you know someone was here?” He lowered his weapon. No need to get trigger-happy.
“The smell hit me first.” She took a deep breath, her nostrils flaring. “Men’s cologne. I—I recognize the scent, but I haven’t had anyone over wearing that. I haven’t had anyone over at all.”
J.D. sniffed the air, but the only smell filling his nostrils was the freshness of Noelle—light, floral—definitely not a guy’s scent. “If you say so.”
Her startling blue eyes glared at him. “There are other things.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Do you see those magazines? I had them stacked a certain way. Someone moved them.”
He knew from his surveillance of her D.C. apartment that she was religiously neat, but he found it hard to believe she’d remember which way she’d stacked her magazines. “Do you have a pet? A cat?”
“No.” She narrowed her eyes, resembling the cat she didn’t have. “And even if I did, I don’t think the cat could knock that sweatshirt off the closet door handle and then hang it up a different way.”
He raised his eyebrows. Was she really that meticulous or had she been setting a trap? Someone this organized would never be able to put up with his habits—not that Noelle Dupree had to put up with anything from him.
“Anything else?” He swung his gun in front of him again. The lady seemed to know what she wa
s talking about, and any hopes he’d had that she’d overreacted and Zendaris really wasn’t on her tail just grew dimmer.
“I didn’t stay to find out.” She waved her arms in front of her, encompassing the room. “I thought we came in here to surprise the intruder.”
“I doubt we’d be surprising him now, but let’s take a look.”
She guided him through the house, where she pointed out other discrepancies between the placement of certain items now and how she’d left them.
Zendaris’s thugs had tried to conceal their intrusion this time, unlike their break-in of her apartment in D.C. Why? Probably didn’t want to spook her and send her running to some other location. Wanted to take her by surprise this time.
In the bathroom, Noelle flung open the medicine cabinet and gasped.
“What’s wrong? Something missing?”
“A bottle of prescription medication.” She tapped one glass shelf. “It was right here.”
Was it a cover? Had Zendaris’s people taken some drugs just in case Noelle noticed the break-in?
“That could be your explanation right there. Are you sure you had the bottle there?”
“Positive.”
He believed her. All the bottles in the medicine cabinet were lined up, labels outward.
When they returned to the living room, she perched on a stool at the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room, and he sat on the arm of an overstuffed chair.
“At least they didn’t stick around. I don’t get it....” She pursed her lips and dropped her gaze to her hands folded on the counter.
“You don’t get what?” Would she open up to him about the break-in in D.C.? It would go a long way to proving to his superiors in Prospero that she knew nothing about her roommate’s secret life.
She shook her head. “Buck Ridge used to be such a safe community. My friend was just telling me about the jump in crime since the ski resort took off.”
“The price you pay for prosperity.” He shrugged. Noelle Dupree didn’t open up to just anybody. He’d have to become somebody.
Her long black ponytail swung over her shoulder as she tilted her head at him. “How did you know where I lived?”
Conceal, Protect Page 2
