by AC Arthur
No matter how good it had felt.
She rubbed the lotion up her bare arms, remembering the times during the dinner that he’d touched her. Three times total, she recalled. At the small of her back when he’d directed her to take a seat at the table, on her arm as he interrupted Jagger’s questions and then when they’d been alone under the dark of night and his strong hand had clasped the back of her neck. There’d been a bit of force in that motion and while she should have detested that, should have hated that he would make the assumption that she wanted him to touch her without asking permission, Gabriella had liked it. She’d liked how instantly sexy it had made her feel. How just that touch had aroused her in the seconds before his mouth took over.
A loud thump from the direction of the balcony had Gabriella jumping on the bed. She hurriedly closed the top over the lotion and set it on the nightstand before standing and pulling the nightgown over her head. As the material fell down to her thighs she walked barefoot across the wood floor toward the patio doors. When she’d come in tonight she’d pulled the blinds closed. Now, she stood to the side of the window and tilted one blind so that she could peek through.
Nothing, but drops of rain on the glass and beyond that, darkness.
Sighing and only half believing this was her imagination this time, Gabriella double-checked that the patio door was locked. She went to the front entrance of the room and checked the locks on those doors as well. Then she moved back to the bed and removed her cell phone from the charger on the nightstand. Climbing into bed she tucked the phone beneath the pillow and turned out the light. She might not get any sleep tonight and she might also be overreacting, either way, the next noise she heard she was calling the police.
She wasn’t taking any chances. Not again.
Chapter 5
Tyler finished the sixty ounce tumbler of water he’d been drinking since waking at dawn. With his morning workout complete, the plan now, was to go for a run and check to be sure there were no more intrusions on the property. He wasn’t sure when he would be returning to L.A., so he’d purchased a few pieces of exercise equipment and set them up in the room that used to be reserved for their boxes of off-season clothes. Tyler was staying in his childhood bedroom, sleeping in the full-size bed and reliving too many memories to count. The master suite was large and could have easily fit the exercise equipment along with the four post California King Bed and all the matching heavy oak furniture. But that was his parents’ room. It always had been.
He’d just snapped the cap onto the tumbler and walked into the kitchen when he remembered that he was no longer alone in the house. Jagger sat at the glossed mahogany wood table across from the island in the spacious kitchen. Dessie was at the sink on the other side of the island washing apples and setting them into a bowl.
“She’s silly acting and rude,” Dessie was saying to Jagger as Tyler walked in. “Tell him Tyler. Somebody needs to teach his friend some manners. Verna would have never tolerated her sitting at a table acting that way.”
“Mom’s not here and Brooke is an adult,” Jagger stated as he stared down at the newspaper on the table in front of him. “If you have something to say to her, say it to her face. She was up late touring the property, but she’ll be down soon.”
“Oh, don’t think I won’t,” Dessie countered and then slapped the handle to turn off the water. “And don’t you forget who used to help change your diapers and chase your little fast tail around the ranch either.”
Jagger looked up as Tyler pulled out a chair and sat across from him. His brother shook his head and Tyler thought this scene was all too familiar.
“Maybe she was just saying what Jagger was thinking, Dessie,” Tyler commented and then grinned as Jagger groaned.
“Probably. Or more like, what he put into her head about this family and this situation.” Dessie shook her head and pulled out one of the side drawers.
Cutlery rattled around until she found what she was looking for and when she turned around again she was holding a pretty sharp-looking knife. She picked up the bowl where she’d set the apples and came to join them at the table.
“This is family business, Jagger. Now, I’m not trying to pick who you roll around in bed with, but just because she satisfies some physical need you have doesn’t mean she can sit at the table and talk as if she knows what’s going on around here,” Dessie continued.
“I don’t even know what’s going on around here,” Tyler stated seriously.
Jagger reached into the bowl and grabbed an apple. “Neither do I.”
“Well, that’s for us to figure out,” Dessie said and started to peel one of the apples. “It’s been so long since the two of you have been here you’ve forgotten how we do things.”
“We still get up at the crack of dawn apparently,” Jagger replied.
“Nobody came into your room and forced you to wake up,” Dessie said. “You were probably trying to get away from that woman.”
“That rooster crows much louder than my alarm clock back in New York, Dessie. And I’m going to marry that woman, so some respect might be due.”
And because Tyler knew this was the point where the conversation was likely to take a violent turn, he reached out to touch the back of Dessie’s hand. The one holding the knife.
“I think it might be more important to talk about what we think happened to Mom and Dad,” he said to Dessie.
Her fingers were still clenched around the handle of the knife, her usually laughing eyes, now narrowed at Jagger. Seconds later her shoulders visibly relaxed and she turned her attention to Tyler. Dessie’s usual warm smile spread across her face and she spoke as calmly as if they’d been sitting on the back porch talking about the sunrise.
“If you’re going to ask who I think killed your parents, the answer is the same as the one I gave to Sheriff Alvarez, I don’t know,” she told him. “Everybody in this town loved George and Verna. They didn’t have any enemies, no run-ins with folk or anything contrary like that.”
“Did they owe anybody money?” Tyler asked. “I’ve been going back through my emails and printing out all the financial statements that Dad sent me over the years. There are no huge losses and no big debts listed. But that could just mean he kept them off the books.”
Dessie had proceeded with peeling the apple. “I don’t know anything about that. They had an accountant. Lucille Gangley. She’s got an office down on Lange Street. Verna didn’t talk much about the finances and since I was her friend, that means I didn’t hear much about it. And if your father told Clyde, my husband wouldn’t have told me. He’s very careful about his attorney/client privilege information.”
Tyler nodded because he knew that already. He’d asked Clyde some questions during the reading of the will and Clyde declined to answer them, citing the privilege.
“I’m just thinking there had to be somebody gunning for them,” Tyler said.
Jagger finished his apple and placed the core on the empty plate beside his half full cup of coffee. “Why? Psychopaths kill random people all the time.”
“But do they shoot them execution style and then burn the truck they were in just about twenty miles from their house?” Tyler asked. “It just seems fishy to me.”
“Well, I disagree.” Jagger announced and folded his paper neatly. “So for the record, my vote is to sell this place and move on.”
“It’s our legacy,” Tyler told him. “That’s what Dad used to say.”
“He used to say that to you, Ty, not me. I was the one who could do no right, remember? So pardon me, if I don’t give a damn about a place that never welcomed me with open arms.”
“You could have done more, Jagger. You could have tried harder. Paid closer attention and applied yourself,” Tyler stated evenly.
“Why?” Jagger asked with a shrug. “You were the favorite.”
“That’s childish,” Tyler told him.
“It’s true.”
“Good morning,” she said and all ey
es turned to the doorway where Gabriella now stood.
“Well, good morning, Gabriella,” Dessie said with a big smile. “Come on in. There’s coffee on the counter and cinnamon rolls. You can pop one into the microwave and join us.”
“No, I don’t want to intrude,” she said as she took a step toward the table. Tyler and I talked about meeting today to tour the property. We didn’t set a time but I’m a morning person, so I’m here. Stephen was outside when I pulled up so he let me in.”
“It’s fine, you’re not intruding,” Dessie told him.
“You sure?” Jagger asked. “You don’t think showing up at someone’s house unannounced isn’t rude?”
“She was invited,” Tyler intervened as Jagger dared to glance at Dessie after his slick questions that were definitely aimed at Dessie’s remarks about Brooke.
Tyler stood from the table and walked until he was standing in front of Gabriella. She smelled good. Like flowers and sunshine. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail and her make-up was light and natural so that she looked more like a high school teenager than a businesswoman. But Tyler knew that comparison was deceiving. After the kiss they’d shared last night, there was no mistaken that Gabriella Bennett was all woman, with passion burning bright just beneath her very pretty surface.
“Grab some coffee and a cinnamon bun,” he said to her. “I’ll get cleaned up and then we can get started.”
“Sure,” she replied.
She met his gaze, but then looked down at her feet, before lifting her head and looking across the room toward the counter where the coffeepot was. Tyler hoped he wasn’t making her uncomfortable. Just as he’d hoped all through the night that kissing her hadn’t made their future dealings too uncomfortable to bear. As for the way he was feeling standing just a few feet away from her, well, never before had denim capri pants and a simple gray V-neck shirt turned him on.
When he realized he’d been standing there looking her up and down as well, Tyler shook his head.
“I’ll just be a few minutes,” he said.
“Right,” she nodded and quickly moved away from the doorway. “I’ll just get some coffee.”
“Finally,” Jagger said from behind them with an exaggerated sigh.
* * *
Was she really that intent on messing this up?
Gabriella set her bag in a chair and lay her sunglasses on the table, before crossing the room to stand in front of the coffeepot. She let her hands rest on the granite countertop and stared straight ahead for a few moments. The sun left a hazy golden glow over the land. Acres of grass stretched across the landscape until cattle looked almost like specks in the distance as they grazed. It was a soothing sight, one that helped in calming Gabriella from the panic attack she was certain would overtake her in the next few minutes. She breathed in slow, releasing the breath in measured beats, just like the online articles had advised.
Gabriella hadn’t utilized the mental health benefits of her health insurance. She could have made an appointment with a psychiatrist and received medication to deal with her trauma and the stress and anxiety that had engulfed her since that day. And she could have called a psychotherapist to help her sort through the emotions that raged through her like a tsunami. She could have had help working through these past months and then she probably wouldn’t feel so overwhelmed with the thought of failing at this very moment. But she hadn’t. She’d decided she could handle it on her own. And she’d done pretty well. At least she thought so.
“Fresh cream is in the refrigerator,” she heard Dessie say and was jolted from her self-treatment.
“Verna used to run this house like a well-oiled machine but I figured in the past few weeks things had been left alone. If the plan is to keep this place, hiring a house manager might be good. Stephen’s wife, Naomi, is a delight. She worked here a couple summers while she was in college,” Dessie continued.
Gabriella poured the coffee into her cup and went to the stainless steel sub-zero refrigerator to retrieve the cream. She poured some in her cup and decided to forego the sugar. She didn’t need that additive to make her feel anymore jittery than she already did. And she didn’t know if the coffee was decaf or not.
When she turned again and headed for the table, it was to see that Jagger had left as well.
“He doesn’t like me very much,” Gabriella said as she took a seat and set her mug on the table.
Not that it bothered her. She was good with people not liking her. It was their problem, not hers. But Jagger was a client too. So there was that.
Dessie shook her head. “He’s not sure if he likes himself,” she said. “The thing about death is that it can be eye-opening for some and soul-searing for others. I’ve known this family since Verna and I were young girls in high school together. I’ve changed those boys’ diapers, put bandages on their scars, yanked them up when they were out showing off, and cried with my best friend when each of them moved away because Verna knew they had no intention of coming back.”
“Until now,” Gabriella said sadly. “They only came back because of their parents’ death.”
Dessie peeled another apple and set it in the bowl. The full lips, painted in a natural color lip gloss, sank into a frown and she shook her head faster, breathing in deeply. She didn’t want to cry and Gabriella felt bad that she was bringing on a conversation that made tears well into the woman’s eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said and reached over to touch Dessie’s hand.
“No,” Dessie said and sniffed. “Don’t be. Death isn’t always a sad occasion. Sometimes the good Lord calls his laborers home. George and Verna did all that they were meant to do on this earth. It was their time.”
Even if someone else chose to take them out? Gabriella wasn’t certain she believed Dessie’s words, but if it made the woman feel better, then she would let it be.
“So you’re here with your designs and ready to tackle this project I see,” Dessie said after clearing her throat.
“Yes. I did a little research last night after dinner and I think I’m ready to get a better idea of the job,” Gabriella said.
She could hear her phone buzzing from her purse and after taking a sip from her cup, she reached over to the chair beside her to grab the phone.
“It’s a great ranch. George was really good at working the land he had and raising the best cattle in this region. His father and grandfather taught him well. And then what he started doing with the horses. That was Verna’s idea. She loved horses. But that even started to pick up. Westwind was also becoming known for its budding stud farm. George forked over some good money to purchase prized studs. They were getting ready to…what, wait a minute, are you okay baby?” Dessie asked.
Gabriella could hear her speaking but she didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her gaze was fixed on the message on the screen of her phone and her heart was pounding loudly. She read the message again:
I want you back. I’ll do whatever to make it happen.
She closed her eyes, but when she opened them, the message was still there. Until she felt the hand on her shoulder. Then, Gabriella moved quickly, erasing the message and dropping the phone back into her purse.
“Oh, sorry. That was just something about work,” she stammered. “Another client that I need to follow-up with.”
Dessie was now standing over Gabriella, staring down at her with her brow creased.
“All right, then, if you say so,” Dessie said. “Drink your coffee. It’ll settle your nerves.”
Yes, Gabriella thought, she definitely needed to settle her nerves. So instead of continuing the conversation with Dessie, she sat at that table sipping her coffee and telling herself that it was just words. The words didn’t mean anything. Just like those sounds at her door last night hadn’t meant anything. Except this morning when she’d finally gotten out of bed after her restless night, she’d gone out onto the patio and had been slightly bothered to see that one of the chairs was overturned. That, didn’t mean an
ything either. She prayed desperately that it didn’t.
“I’m going to stick around here today,” Dessie stated after a few moments of silence. “Audrey’s filling in for me at the resort, so I’m going to get some cleaning done and cook a nice meal for everybody. It’ll be a big Sunday dinner, just like Verna used to have.”
“My mother loves cooking and hosting family dinners,” Gabriella said. She’d been thinking about her family and how she prayed none of what was going on in her life now, would ever touch them.
“Then you’ll join us too. It’s nice to have everyone gathered around good food. Brings people closer together. And that’s just what we need around here if we’re gonna face what happened and what we need to do going forward,” Dessie said.
“We’re not only going to face what happened, we’re going to find who killed my parents,” Tyler said when he stepped back into the kitchen.
Gabriella looked over to where he was standing and had to take another sip of her coffee. As if he hadn’t looked delicious when she’d first arrived wearing basketball shorts and a black tank. The muscles in his bare arms bulged and when he’d stood, the trim narrowing of his waist had her mouth watering as she recalled the pictures of his perfect eight pack that she’d seen online. Now, showered, his hair still wet and wearing khaki shorts and a white t-shirt, he looked neat, athletic and sexy as hell.
Dessie stood from the table. She carried the bowl and knife to the island before replying, “And in the meantime, decisions have to be made.”
“I’m going to make them,” Tyler told her. “You ready for the tour?”
“Ah, yes,” Gabriella managed to say after she finished gawking at him. She stood and picked up her mug, about to take it to the sink, but Tyler took it from her.