by A. J. Pine
“Maybe you’d rather have breakfast?” Hank persisted, coming alongside of her.
Wordlessly, she shook her head.
“Coffee?” he tried.
She stopped walking and faced him. “Sorry. It’s not going to work out.” This time she patted his shoulder in an effort to ease the dejected look he gave her. “What about Helen Garcia?” she asked. Helen had been the librarian since the turn of the century. “She’s so smart. And … organized.” That was about where the list of her attributes stopped.
“Jessa, I know there’s a slight age difference, but—”
“Slight?” she interrupted.
“I think you’re the loveliest woman in the world,” he finished a little desperately.
Okay, so sweet and subtle was not going to work with Hank. She had to give it to him straight. She started walking along the path so she wouldn’t have to look into his eyes. “I appreciate that. Really. But it’s not going to happen. I don’t look at you like that, and—” When they came around the corner of the house she stopped cold.
The ladder lay in the center of the yard, crushing Hank’s perfect green grass.
“My grass,” he gasped, stalking toward the ladder.
Worry filled her stomach like a cold hard stone. “Where’s Luis?” she choked out. The ladder looked like it had been dropped, but he wasn’t there.
“I don’t know, but this’ll ruin my grass.” Hank struggled to drag the ladder to the driveway while she scanned the empty street.
Luis wasn’t there. He was gone.
Somehow, Jessa faltered to the garage, her eyes searching. It was empty. “Where could he be?” she blurted, frantically looking around.
“Knowing Cortez, he’s in the house going through my things,” Hank replied tightly. He marched to the garage door and threw it open. “That family is all the same. Thieves, the lot of them.”
She reprimanded him with a glare. “None of them are thieves,” she said sternly. “But maybe he went in for a drink. Or maybe he had to use the bathroom.” Of course that was it. He had to be in the house. Jessa gulped a breath to steady her heart. He hadn’t disappeared, for God’s sake. She followed Hank inside, inhaling the musty scent of an old closed-in house, searching room by room, not really seeing anything but somehow finding her way. He wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room or the dining room or the main floor bathroom. She bolted up the rickety staircase. “Luis?” she screeched, throwing open the upstairs bedroom doors. The house sat in a heavy silence. She broke it again with another shout, half stumbling back down the steps.
Hank met her by the front door. “He’s probably gone into town for pie and coffee,” he said, his nose scrunched with distaste. “You can’t count on the Cortez family for anything except trouble.”
“No,” Jessa wheezed. Not Luis. He wouldn’t leave her when she needed his help. He wouldn’t have left the ladder lying in the middle of the front yard. “Oh God.” Sidestepping Hank, she broke through the front door and sprinted down the driveway to the sidewalk. Trying to breathe, she looked up and down the deserted street. “Luis?” she yelled.
Nothing. No response. Hands shaking, she dug her keys out of her pocket and flew to her truck.
“Sorry, Hank!” she yelled, fumbling to unlock the doors. “Please call me right away if Luis comes back!” Before he could respond, she thrust herself into the driver’s seat and gunned the engine until the truck shot away from the curb.
Chapter Twelve
One more fall like that and he’d be seein’ stars. Lance hoisted himself off the ground. Not gonna lie, it was getting harder to get up. That was the third time in an hour Ball Buster had thrown him. Good thing Tucker was a regular master at corralling the mean son of a bitch so he hadn’t trampled him.
Shit. He hunched, trying to even out his breathing, which was a hell of a lot harder than it sounded with the laceration and bone bruise sending flames up his rib cage.
“Hey, you okay, man?” Tucker jogged over to where Lance limped near the fence. “You’re lookin’ tense out there.”
Tense. That was one way to put it. “I’m fine,” he lied, guarding his right side. Damn bone bruise. Sure wasn’t making his training any easier. Every time that pain zinged through him, he also thought back to when Jessa had touched him there. When she’d run her hands over his skin, her fingers light and gentle. That only led to another problem that pretty much made it impossible for him to ride in comfort.
“Maybe you ought to call it a day,” Tucker suggested, handing him his water bottle.
Lance removed his hat and took a good long swig. He couldn’t call it a day. Not until he’d gotten the better of Ball Buster. There was no way he’d be able to compete at Worlds if he couldn’t even stay on that damn bull for more than three fucking seconds.
He shoved the water bottle back into Tucker’s hands. “Here. I’m going again. Let’s get him ready.”
The man shook his head like he wasn’t sure if he should pity Lance or argue. But he knew the sport. He knew what it took.
Lance climbed the fence and jumped down on the other side. He removed his gloves to check the tape on his hands. It was already frayed and torn. He’d have to rewrap—
“Lance!”
Naomi raced around the edge of the corral.
Damn. She had that look of drama about her.
“I just got a call from Ginny Eckles,” she yelled as he walked to meet her. “It’s your dad. She found him in front of the bakery, and something’s wrong.”
The pain in his ribs intensified with the hitch in his breathing. “What do you mean something’s wrong?”
Naomi was wheezing like she’d sprinted all the way from her house. “She said she tried asking him some questions but he wouldn’t answer. He wasn’t acting like himself.”
Oh for chrisssake. “Where the hell is Jessa?” he demanded, as if Naomi were her keeper.
“I don’t know,” she shot back with just as much attitude. “I asked Mrs. Eckles if he was alone and she said he was. She said Luis didn’t seem to remember where he was supposed to be.”
“Of course he remembers,” Lance grumbled, already unbuckling his chaps. His dad wouldn’t forget where he was supposed to be. He was probably just being ornery. Which Jessa could’ve prevented had she kept an eye on him like she was supposed to.
Naomi stooped to help him get the chaps off. Always the mother. “She thinks someone should pick him up. I’d go but I have to pick up Gracie at a friend’s house on the other side of town in five minutes.”
“I’ll get him,” Lance said, kicking off the leather gear. “Tucker, go ahead and get Ball Buster settled in the stables,” he called to his friend. Looked like he was done training for the day after all.
The man tipped his hat and approached the bull while Lance followed Naomi down to the driveway.
“I tried to call Jessa’s cell a few times, but she didn’t answer,” Naomi informed him, almost like she didn’t want to get her friend in trouble.
His face steamed. “Don’t worry about it.” Not like he could blame all of this on Jessa. Knowing his father, he’d probably lost her on purpose.
“Maybe she’s really upset,” Naomi said. “About your talk this morning.”
“She didn’t seem upset.” The memory of her coy smile tugged at his gut. She seemed fine. Confident. Strong. Like a woman who could hold her own. “You’re wrong about her, you know,” he told Naomi. “She’s stronger than you give her credit for.” Strong and sexy. Enticing with that body of hers. Not that he wanted to get slapped…
“Don’t you get any ideas,” Naomi warned. “I don’t know who that woman at breakfast was, but it wasn’t Jessa. It was an act. And I don’t blame her. You practically humiliated her.”
“On your advice,” he reminded her.
They parted ways, but before Naomi climbed into her car, she shot him a glare. “You just keep your distance. Take my word for it.” Before he could answer that he was done taking her w
ord for anything, she disappeared into her car and peeled out.
Shaking his head, Lance climbed into his truck and drove down to the highway. As far as he could tell, Jessa was a big girl and could take care of herself. He might not go out of his way to pursue her, but if something clicked between them one night, he’d let it happen. Not that he’d be dreaming about that moment. Not dreaming…fantasizing. About those slender fingers grazing his skin again, about the sexy dip in the curve of her upper lip. About the delicate weight of her body against his, all soft curves and creamy flesh…
Shit, he just about missed his turn. He jerked the wheel in a quick left and slowed as he cruised down the strip. Sure enough, a small crowd had gathered in front of Butter Buns Bakery. He slowed and pulled over to parallel park at the curb. This didn’t look good.
The people who’d gathered around Luis parted as Lance jogged down the sidewalk.
“Get the hell away from me,” his dad was shouting at Mrs. Eckles.
“Whoa.” Lance rushed to his father’s side. “Dad. What’s wrong?”
“He’s very agitated,” Mrs. Eckles prattled in her know-it-all way. She shook her head, the bifocals strung around her neck clanking. “All I did was ask if he needed something. He looked so confused. And when I told him I was going to call over to your place, you should’ve seen him. Cursing and screaming like a lunatic.”
“She was badgering me,” Luis put in, glaring at Mrs. Eckles like he wanted to pop her in the face.
Damn, this went way beyond ornery. “I’m sorry about this, Mrs. Eckles,” Lance said, delivering the words with a polite smile. But chaos raged underneath it. What the hell was his father’s problem? Making a scene like this in the middle of town? “I’ll get him home.” He clamped a hand onto Luis’s shoulder and dragged him away before the woman decided to press charges.
His father jerked out of his grip. “I don’t need you coming to pick me up. Acting like I’m the one who’s crazy.”
Lance growled out a sigh. Is that what happened when people got older? They stopped caring what everyone thought and did whatever they wanted? “Where’s Jessa, Dad?” he asked, trying to control the venom in his tone.
“How the hell should I know?” his father shot back.
That forced him to a stop. “Because you left the house with her. To go help at the clinic.”
A look of understanding dawned in his dad’s blank eyes.
Tremors took over Lance’s stomach. “Don’t you remember?”
“Of course I remember,” his father snapped. “I wanted to go for a walk, that’s all. I got thirsty and I wanted to go for a walk.”
Lance studied him. The man’s hands were trembling. Sweat glistened on his forehead. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” his father said, a little softer. “Just so thirsty.”
Relief swept through him. He’d probably gotten dehydrated. At some point, he’d have to talk to Jessa about making sure Luis drank plenty of water. “All right, old man,” he said lightly, steering his father toward the truck. “I think I’ve got an extra water bottle in the tr—”
“Luis!”
Lance spun. Jessa sprinted toward them, her arms flailing, long hair sailing behind her.
“Where have you been?” she rasped, pressing one hand against her heaving chest.
Damn…the way she filled out a shirt…
“I went for a walk,” Luis muttered, refusing to look at Jessa.
“A walk?” she choked out. “A walk?” If it was possible, her face got redder. “How could you do that, Luis? Huh? How could you just walk away without telling me where you were going?”
A couple passing by on the street paused to stare at Jessa.
Yeah, she was a little fired up. “Dad needs some water. He’s thirsty.” Lance slipped an arm around her waist and tried coaxing her to the truck so they could move this discussion somewhere more private.
“I have the right to go for a walk if I want to,” his father insisted.
Jessa halted and squirmed out of Lance’s grip. “I asked you to get the ladder out of Hank Green’s garage. And you never came back.” She turned to Lance, her eyes wild with indignation. “And then I found the ladder lying in the middle of the front yard and Luis had simply disappeared.”
What was he supposed to say? He couldn’t make excuses for his father’s behavior.
“I was thirsty,” Luis said again. “I wanted something to drink.”
“Then you should’ve told me that,” Jessa whispered, as though she was still having a hard time breathing. “I could’ve gotten you a drink, Luis.” She swayed a little, as if the stress of losing his father had gone to her head. Once again, Lance secured an arm around her, trying not to notice how good she smelled.
This time, she allowed him to lead her to the truck. Luis got into the passenger’s seat and Lance handed him a water bottle from a cooler in the back.
Jessa had leaned against the bed of the truck, staring off into space as though trying to collect her wits.
“He didn’t mean to scare you,” Lance said, coming up beside her and nudging her shoulder with his. “He’s always had a mind of his own. But he doesn’t do stuff like that on purpose.”
“He never does stuff like that to me, Lance,” she said quietly. Her face turned to his, and for the first time he noticed the red rims around her eyes. She’d been crying. Some protective instinct ballooned inside him and he wanted to wipe away her tears and make sure she never had another reason to cry.
Yes, Jessa was strong. She had a lot of sass. But she was also compassionate and seemed to feel everything so deeply. Maybe he appreciated that about her even more than he appreciated her sexy legs.
“I’ll talk to him. Make sure he doesn’t do it again,” Lance promised, and God help him, he couldn’t keep his hands off her. He trailed his fingers at the base of her jaw, sweeping back the strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail.
“I think…” Her gaze strayed from his. “I think something’s wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“With your father. I think something’s wrong with him.”
“He got thirsty and he’s used to doing what he wants when he wants.” That was it. The older he got, the more stubborn he got.
“Lance…” Jessa took his hand in hers and it felt so out of place but so right, her soft smooth skin covering his rough callused knuckles. “I think you need to take him to the doctor. To have him checked out.”
“What?” He pulled his hands to his sides.
Jessa peered up at him, her face steeled as it had been earlier that morning when they’d had their little chat in the kitchen. “He’s had short-term memory loss twice now…”
“That’s not memory loss.” His hands twitched and he pulled them into fists. Clearly, the man was fine. “He got turned around in the mountains. And today he just wanted a damn drink of water.”
“So he left a ladder in the middle of Hank Green’s yard and walked ten blocks to Main Street for a drink?” she challenged. “Why didn’t he go into the house to get a drink?”
“He hates that man.” Everyone knew that. Jessa knew that. Why had she even taken him there? That was probably what started this whole debacle. “He’d never set foot in Hank Green’s house willingly.”
Jessa stepped up to him. “I think he got disoriented. I think he didn’t remember where he was or what he was supposed to be doing.” Anger flashed in her eyes. “He wouldn’t walk away like that when I asked him to do something. He’s never done that.”
Lance threw up his hands. What did she want from him? “Cut the man some slack,” he said, dismissing her concerns. “He’s almost seventy. He probably shouldn’t be carrying ladders around anyway.”
Jessa glared at him for a silent minute. Then she strode close and got in his face. “I know you don’t want to hear this. But something’s wrong with him.”
She was right about one thing. He didn’t want to hear an unedu
cated diagnosis. “He was at the doctor three months ago and he’s healthy as a horse.” Those were the doc’s exact words. Trying to appease her, he laid his hand on her shoulder. “Now I’m gonna take him home. Let him rest. I’ll see you later.” He turned and headed for the truck before she could argue.
Chapter Thirteen
There was a reason Darla had named her establishment the Chocolate Therapist. She firmly believed that every problem could be solved with the right wine and chocolate pairing. And in Jessa’s experience, she was almost always right.
In need of some serious therapy after that little exchange with Lance, Jessa marched herself down four and a half blocks and charged through the familiar stained-glass door.
A few patrons sat around the tall pub tables, leaf-peeping tourists from the looks of their designer clothing. All of them had flights of wine and an assortment of truffles to match.
Somehow just inhaling that rich, cocoa scent made Jessa feel better already.
Darla was stationed behind the counter, walking a young couple through the menu, so Jessa slunk to the far corner stool at the main bar and plopped herself down, replaying that conversation with Lance again.
He probably shouldn’t be carrying ladders around anyway.
As if Luis disappearing was her fault. Her shoulders sank lower. She only wanted to help the man, and yet Lance had completely dismissed her like her opinion didn’t matter at all. It wasn’t just the situation with the ladder. She’d noticed the tremors, things she’d originally written off as his arthritis acting up, but now she wasn’t so sure.
“Wow, who pissed in your coffee today?” Darla appeared before her with a tray of truffles and a flight of reds.
Her angel of mercy.
The woman set the trays on the counter beside Jessa and pulled over a stool. “Looked like you could use something strong, so I brought all darks and a bittersweet.”
“Perfect,” Jessa, said before popping one of the cocoa-dusted confections into her mouth. Then she sipped on the first glass. Closing her eyes to hold on to the taste, she swallowed. “Better already,” she said with a sigh.
