Conceal, Protect - By Carol Ericson Page 0,4

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 held 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