by Christa Wick
Ashley opened her mouth and let the pencil fall to her desk. Glaring at the phone, she tightened her grip on the receiver. Not only had Moske just said he was taking her off the case and putting her in a dress, but he wanted to bring her weight into it, too?
“It’s not a good thing when your supervisor feels sorry for you, Callahan.”
“No, sir,” she monotoned.
“It’s actually pretty pathetic.”
She stayed silent. She certainly wasn’t going to agree with the blowhard.
“Can’t snap my fingers and make you thin, but you will stop being pathetic, Callahan. You will obey me,” he snarled. “This thing at the LC isn’t worth pursuing. Use the time to finish clearing Deacon’s junk out of the office. Send it to storage if you don’t want to shred it. When he dies, I’ll just order it incinerated.”
Hearing the venom in Moske’s voice, Ashley picked up her pencil and jotted down a note.
Moske dislikes Deacon?
“Yes, sir,” she chirped. “Looking forward to that email, sir.”
Her tongue retracted like she’d physically licked the man’s boot rather than pretending to do it with her patently fake enthusiasm for his suggested tasks.
“Anything else, sir?”
“No!” he snapped. “You’ve wasted enough of my time. You tell Crane he’s to report to Barr Monday morning.”
“Roger that, sir.” She hung up at the same time, the muscles of her face finally relaxing. At least Moske had given her one last day of using Thomas. That was better than a kick to the shin.
Ashley winced at the thought of an actual kick.
“You okay?” Thomas asked, coming in with takeout for their lunches.
“Yeah,” she muttered. “You’re to report to Kalispell Monday.”
Sinking into the chair on his side of the desk, he groaned. “Not Barr again.”
“Sorry. Moske said I was to kiss you goodbye.”
The kid rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to think what Walker Turk would do to me if you did.”
Ashley dropped her chin, her hand moving swiftly to cover her mouth. She’d had Tuesday and Wednesday alone in her apartment with Walker. The man had been insanely sweet, taking care of her like no one ever had. That she allowed all the coddling both pleased and confused Ashley.
It wasn’t really her bag, was it? Letting someone look after her, letting go of the reins of control for any amount of time. Was it just her leg, or would she be able to give up some of her precious self-determination after her body healed?
She worried that, if she couldn’t, Walker would leave just like Nolan had. And, unlike Nolan, Ashley knew she would miss her lumberjack cowboy if he faded from her life.
“Well,” she sighed, handing Thomas a sheet of paper filled top to bottom with her messy scrawl. “Get this done before you go and you won’t have to find out.”
He looked over the tasks she wanted him to complete. They both figured the raft wouldn’t have any prints and it would take weeks to get the results if it did because there was no active case at the moment. But the raft was brand new and expensive enough it would have been purchased at an outfitter instead of the sports section at a discount department store. So, among other things, she tasked Thomas with sending the picture from the driver’s license and the trail cam capture of the giant to all the outfitters between Billings and Willow Gap.
“When you’re done with that, tape up the boxes.”
“It’s a shame,” Thomas said, looking at the stacks that surrounded them. “Except for Moske, everyone says Deacon was a great agent.”
“Except for Moske,” Ashley replied. “Everyone is right.”
Chapter Eighteen
Walker didn’t leave Billings when Ashley went back to work. He drove her to the federal building in the morning, took an early lunch with Emerson then returned to Ashley’s apartment and managed his timber operations from a cell phone. A little after four, he got in his truck, returned to the federal building and waited for her to finish her day. Just as he had each night from Monday forward, he slept on her recliner, his longer, wider frame spilling over.
He didn’t have to sleep on the recliner. She told him that point blank. They both trusted he could keep his hands to himself no matter the temptation she presented. But Ashley didn’t need jostled in the middle of the night. And Walker needed a break from being next to her, feeling her heat, hearing her breathe. Too much of that and he would confess his love.
Yeah, love. And, if Ashley was as sane as he thought she was—as sane as he used to think himself—such an outburst of devotion and admiration would send her hobbling away as fast as her soft cast and crutches would allow.
Come Friday, Walker had plans that didn’t include another uncomfortable night in a house with next to no furniture. He packed a bag for Ashley, its contents everything he could think of that a woman would need for a weekend at the ranch. Tossing the luggage in the back seat of his truck, he pulled into the parking lot behind her office a little before five and waited.
At ten after five, Ashley and Thomas exited their building. Walker, standing by the passenger door, waved. He would have driven right up to the building, but she had insisted she wanted him to park.
So he waited, the caveman part of his brain wishing he could scoop her up, carry her to the truck and tuck her safely in the cab.
“Off to Kalispell, I hear,” Walker said as Thomas reached the truck with Ashley.
The young man handed Ashley’s computer bag to Walker.
“Believe me,” he complained. “I’d rather stay here. They’re putting a database together and Barr is just going to shovel data entry and testing onto me.”
“You haven’t even realized the worst part, have you?” Ashley snickered, her shoulder against the truck to shift the weight off her leg. “You are going to be the poor schmuck who knows that database the best. And when the agency makes you an offer—”
“No.” Thomas whipped his head side-to-side. “I am not going to be that intern.”
Ashley patted his chest the way a big sister might. “Then I suggest you walk very carefully along the tightrope between winding up the database guy or the intern who didn’t get an offer.”
“But you’ll put in a good word for me, right?” Thomas asked, his face turning a queasy green.
“Of course,” Ashley answered with another pat then reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “Especially if, while being intentionally slow at those database tasks, you follow up on this list.”
He unfolded the sheet, head bobbing as he read. Finished, he slid the list into his back pocket. “Consider me your man in Kalispell.”
Swinging his hand forward, Thomas offered it first to Ashley then to Walker.
“You’re welcome in Willow Gap,” Walker told Thomas right before the kid took off at a light jog toward his own vehicle.
“Now,” Ashley said, beaming a smile at Walker. “Want to tell me why you looked suspiciously nervous when I came out of the building?”
He could have lied, said he was worried that she might have overexerted the bad leg, but as soon as they pulled out of the parking lot and headed north, she would know there was more to his answer.
Walker gestured for her to step away from the rear door. Reaching into the cab, he unzipped her bag, flipped the lid and moved so she could inspect the contents.
“Probably more than you need for a weekend.”
“A weekend where?” she softly inquired.
“Mama’s. Unless there’s some kind of Fish and Wildlife emergency, I’ll bring you back Sunday night.”
“I understand you need to return to Willow Gap,” she started.
“That’s not it.” Opening the passenger door, he motioned for her to get in. “No point you standing on that leg while we talk about it.”
Ashley passed the crutches off to him then accepted his arm as a brace stepping up. Her lips mashed together so hard their edges turned white.
> “Okay?” he asked.
She nodded, her expression drawn tight with pain.
Walker stowed the crutches then climbed behind the wheel. Twisting in his seat, he looked at her.
“I’m not criticizing your lack of furniture,” he began. “I understand why you’re waiting. But being in bed with the cast is hurting other parts of your body. There is also more than one walk-in shower with handrails at the ranch. I don’t have any nails left to chew through while you’re cleaning up behind a closed door.”
A wan smile softened her features.
“You’re right, but I don’t want to impose on your mother.”
“It’s not imposing. She’s excited to see you again.”
Reading the retreat in Ashley’s body language, Walker reached over and squeezed her hand.
“She’s in the Pioneer Women’s Festival, too. Wants to help you with your outfit. She already has one that she just needs to alter a bit once she has your measurements.”
He could see Ashley thinking the offer over. That she had to think about it, evaluate it, made him a little sad. Walker had heard Ashley’s side of the conversation with her parents the day after she went to Urgent Care. He was pretty sure she only called them because he expected it. To Walker, the conversation sounded like her mother had moved straight from a brief report that Ashley was in a cast to talking about a community plan the woman was working on.
Walker couldn’t imagine any of his relatives doing that, couldn’t imagine that kind of call ending less than five minutes after it started. But knowing just how brief and distant the mother-daughter talk was gave him a foundation for understanding Ashley’s hesitance in all things personal.
“Mama doesn’t invite people over if that’s not what she wants.”
Bringing Ashley’s hand to his lips, he kissed at the inside of her wrist, her pulse fluttering at his touch.
“You’re right, and I’d love to go.”
Grinning, he leaned across the center console, tilted her chin up and pressed his mouth to hers, the warm pliancy of her lips making his own pulse race wildly.
Settling back into his seat, he turned the key in the ignition.
“Right then, let’s get you home.”
* * *
Home, Ashley thought, sitting on one of the two couches in the great room of the Turk ranch house. That’s what Walker had said. Certain she was overthinking things, she couldn’t help but wonder if he meant his home or a place that was, or at least could be, her home, too.
Something in the way he had said it, his tone, his smile, the green eyes glittering at her—one or all of those things had set her mind to speculating. It didn’t clear things up that he actually owned a house on the other side of the county.
“This,” Siobhan said, coming through the doors from the dining room with a tray in hand. “Is Betty Rae’s Mint Elixir. If there’s ever going to be a cure for the common cold, this will be it.”
“Ash busted her leg,” Sutton deadpanned from where he sat on the opposing couch. “You sure you work law enforcement, baby girl?”
“You can pour your own, Sutton Lee,” she grumbled. She put the tray down and filled a cup for Ashley. “It’s good for restoring energy, I find. Definitely makes for an awesome hangover cure.”
“Thank you.” Ashley took a sip and then another, the flavor rolling around on her tongue. “Well, I don’t feel my bones remodeling, but it certainly is refreshing.”
“Oh,” a feminine voice chirped. “I hope Betty Rae brought more than one gallon over.”
Ashley recognized the speaker as Sage, Adler’s wife, before the woman came into view. Adler followed her into the seating area a few seconds later. Leah walked with him, her small hand curled around his pinkie finger. The conch was missing, but she was back in the grass skirt, the garland of fabric flowers double looped to form a crown instead of worn around her neck.
“You come up with anything?” Adler asked after giving his cousin a peck on the cheek.
“I’ve been to every outfitter and every other kind of business in the county with pictures and questions about the raft,” Siobhan answered.
She took a seat on the same couch as Ashley while Adler sat next to his brother, Leah on his lap and Sage on his other side.
“Is that a ‘no’?” Sutton asked.
Siobhan pinched the pleat on her uniform pants, her gaze flicking at Sutton.
“Nothing yet,” she admitted. “At least now that we have Joyce Franco’s complaint, we don’t have to leave it to the Feds.”
Casting a guilty look at Ashley, Siobhan smiled.
“No offense.”
“None taken,” Ashley answered. “I’m glad for all the help your office has provided.”
“No,” Sage warned in a low voice as Leah seemed to take an interest in how the furniture had been rearranged because of Ashley’s arrival.
Both Sutton and Ashley needed to elevate their legs, Sutton his right and Ashley her left. Each had an ottoman. Each faced one another on their respective couches. Along with the coffee table between the two couches, the ottomans eliminated a walk-through.
“No, Honey Bee,” Sage warned again as Leah slid off Adler’s lap and got on her hands and knees. “What does Gam-Gam say about crawling under tables out here?”
Leah lifted her head, just her big green eyes visible. She stared directly at Ashley, her gaze dancing with a mischief that, in turn, brought a smile to Ashley’s lips.
“Oh, she’s got an appreciative audience,” Sutton laughed. “You’re not getting her to behave now.”
“Honey Bee,” Adler growled.
The tone wasn’t mean, but it sobered the little girl. Her shoulders lifted and held, the small mouth forming an argumentative pout.
“You follow Gam-Gam’s rules out here and we’ll make a blanket fort for reading time.”
The toddler’s face opened in wonder. Her hands lifted in the air, the palms exposed and fingers dancing. Climbing back onto her uncle’s lap, she patted his face.
“That’s my Addy.”
“I’m not sure which one of them has the other trained,” Sage laughed.
“Honey Bee is the boss,” Sutton answered. “She can even make me want a kid.”
“You know you need a wife first, right?”
Sutton shot his older brother an eye roll.
Sage pulled a worried face. “A wife and someplace closer than Roundup for emergency care.”
She finished with an anxious glance at Ashley’s leg.
Adler kissed his wife’s cheek. “You’ll work it out, love.”
Love…
Ashley let the word echo in her head, suddenly wishing Walker was with her instead of making a quick trip to inspect the work his crew had accomplished while he was in Billings playing nursemaid.
“What’s that you’re talking about?” Siobhan asked. “Are you…uh…”
Falling silent, she moved her hand in front of her stomach in an exaggerated half-circle.
Sage laughed. “No. I’m trying to get a grant for Willow Gap so we can have a local urgent care clinic. It really doesn’t make sense not having one with all the tourists at the parks and all the ranches and timber operations.”
“Good luck finding a doctor,” Siobhan grumbled. “We tried a twice weekly wellness clinic three years ago and couldn’t even keep a nurse.”
Leaning against the couch back, Ashley took a sip of her “elixir” and enjoyed the easy banter between Walker’s family members. It was a little like the exchanges she remembered from her early days of law enforcement. Unfortunately, the more experience an agent had, the more isolated the job became.
From everything Ashley had witnessed, Walker’s family worked and played together, the attribute carried from generation to generation.
“Sage has a line on a great doctor,” Adler said as she pulled out her cell phone.
“Here.” Sage handed the device to Siobhan.
“Thorne took a scholarship for his la
st few years of study and residency that he will have to pay back unless he does three years at a rural clinic. Willow Gap is as rural as it gets.”
“Call him right now!” Siobhan squealed.
Ashley choked on her drink, the mint burning the soft linings of her nose as she snorted some of the liquid.
“That’s a lot of enthusiasm,” she said once she recovered.
“Look at him,” Siobhan crooned as she rotated the phone to reveal a picture of a towering male with shaggy red hair and a full beard.
Ashley shrugged. She’d never say it out loud, at least not at this point, but every male she saw or called up from memory paled in comparison to how Walker made her feel. There was “Walker Sexy” and then there was every other guy in existence.
Siobhan responded with a snort. “What am I thinking? You’re as lost as Sage.”
Cheeks growing hot, Ashley risked another sip of the cooling mint drink.
The doors to the dining room swung open. Lindy passed through carrying a long dress folded over her arm. Approaching the couch, she shooed Siobhan down to the far end and took a seat in the middle to show Ashley the costume.
“I was even able to find some matching thread,” the woman beamed as she pointed out where she had altered the dress to fit Ashley’s curves and hide the leg cast for the festival. “And I have Royce looking for some old time crutches from the loft above the stables.”
“I can do your hair up, Ashley,” Siobhan offered.
“Oh, the hair,” Lindy bemoaned, her hand creeping up to tug at one of her short tresses. “I wasn’t thinking about the festival when I got mine cut in April. I’ll have to wear one of the wigs. Be glad you have enough of your own!”
“Who did you get stuck with?” Siobhan asked.
“Mary Ronan,” Ashley answered.
“Interesting life,” Siobhan said. “I suppose your boss picked her because she was married to an Indian Agent—closest thing he could find to early female law enforcement in the state, I guess.”
“For those days, yes.”
“Mama’s representing our Sarah,” Sutton put in. “The suffragette who left Chicago and arrived in Montana as Corryn Turk’s mail order bride.”
