“Pretty sure she can handle herself.” Decker tossed a beaten-up leather briefcase into the cab of his truck. “I gotta go charm the home buyers. Hold down the fort.”
As Decker headed out the driveway, Cole turned up the hill toward the new lodge, half of which was Whisper Creek’s new childcare facility and petting zoo. The other half was still rough-framed inside, but by fall was supposed to be ready for duty as a full-service spa.
He strolled toward the building, letting himself in the spa door. He inhaled, loving the scent of fresh lumber and drywall putty. Decker was the acknowledged brainiac of the family, working with his design software for half the night, but Cole preferred to be the guy with his hands right in the mud—literally.
Morning sun came through the east-facing windows and skylights, and he tried to picture what the spa would look like once it was finished. They had fifteen hundred square feet to work with, which might be an architect’s dream—if the architect was ever at the ranch long enough to figure out what to do with all this emptiness. Cole sure didn’t have a clue.
But then he pictured Jess in the warmly lit space, gliding around with one of her yoga outfits on, flashing her warm smile his way, tying up that long, long dark hair into a ponytail he’d just itch to take back down.
He shook his head, trying to erase the vision. Fantasizing about Jess before she even got here was only going to torture him more.
And her kind of torture was the kind that only left a man wanting what he could not have.
Chapter 3
Papers still on her lap, Jess was nervously counting the lights between the taxi and the end of the Ted Williams Tunnel when the cabbie flipped his radio over to some country-oldies channel. Her breath hitched as she heard the first notes of one of Grampy’s favorite songs—from one of the CDs he’d had playing in his car that long, last morning…the last time she’d ever seen him. Always before, the song had comforted her, but this morning?
This morning it helped bring forth a rush of memories she couldn’t stop.
—
“Come on, jellybean. In the car, now. Come on.” Grampy helped Jess out of the hospital wheelchair, settling her into the front seat of his Chevy. He was exceedingly gentle—and it had been five days—but even through a haze of painkillers, she winced.
He reached over her to clip the seat belt into place. “Oh, baby,” he sighed. “Look at you.” He used his roughened thumbs to brush tears from her cheeks. “What happened?”
Jess clammed up. She couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t risk her one ally knowing how badly she’d screwed up this time.
“I’ll be okay, Grampy.”
“Bullshit.” His eyes narrowed, and Jess saw a spark she thought Grams had tamped out long ago. “You look like someone used you for target practice.”
Jess sighed, pressing her fingers to her eyes to try to stop the tears. That’s not the half of it, Grampy.
“I’ll have that punk-ass idiot Billy’s head.” Grampy closed her door and walked around to the driver’s side of the car.
Jess let out a short, bitter laugh, then cringed as her split lip burned. It was nothing compared to the other pain, but she’d be damned if Grampy ever found out about that.
He slid into his seat and put the key into the ignition, but didn’t turn it.
“So where do you want to go, honey?” He touched her cheek, eyes sadder than she’d ever seen them before.
“West, Grampy. I want to go west.”
He smiled sadly. “How about the police station?”
“I already talked to them. As it turns out, when somebody tosses you out of a car in front of the emergency room, the cops get interested.”
“They going to help you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
No, Grampy. They’re not. Because I wouldn’t tell them who did it. Or about Mack.
“I’m not taking you home, jellybean. He’ll find you.”
“No. Not home.” She touched her bottom lip briefly, wrinkling her nose when she saw the blood on her fingers. “Definitely not home.”
“Okay. Then I know a place.” He turned the key. “You gotta trust me on this. We need to get you out of here. But first we gotta make a quick stop.”
Grampy steered carefully out of the parking lot, casting glances her way every few seconds. He pulled onto the highway and drove toward the airport, and for a delusional