by Jeannie Watt
What on earth...?
Another small series of rhythmic screeches sounded as she hugged the wall and listened, while the sane part of her brain struggled to link clues together.
No assailant would burst into her house like a banshee on the attack and then simply stop.
She hoped.
Alex eased forward toward the top of the staircase and started easing her way down, gripping the baseball bat so firmly that her hand muscles were starting to cramp. A blast of wind hit her halfway down, and she crouched low to get a better look at her living room. At first, she had a hard time wrapping her brain around the dark, bushy mass quivering next to the front door, and then she recognized it for what it was. The leafy end of a gigantic branch protruding through her front window.
Alex closed her eyes and sank down onto the stairs, leaning her head against the banister spindles as tears of relief damped her lashes.
No assailant. Just another big problem to address.
She blinked against the tears, but a few slipped down her cheeks before she was able to control them.
What now?
What freaking now?
CHAPTER FIVE
“ANY DAMAGE?” NICK asked as he filled two coffee cups with life-giving brew. Katie shook her head as she pulled her hooded sweatshirt off over her head. He’d offered to check for damage to the greenhouse when they’d both staggered out of their bedrooms at daybreak after the massive windstorm had abated, but Katie had insisted on going.
“A near miss. The wind brought down an elm branch, but it landed short of the greenhouse by a couple feet. I think we might need to take that tree down. It’s old and brittle.” She hung the sweatshirt over the back of a chair and then took a long, hard look at him. “You look awful. Did Bailey have another round of night terrors? If so, I slept through it.”
Nick had a hard time believing anyone could sleep through one of Bailey’s episodes, even with a bedroom at the opposite end of the house. He yawned. “No. Wind terror. Both of them.”
Katie took the cup he set in front of her. “Those trees do make scary sounds when they bend. I hate the one that scratches on the side of the house.”
“That was the biggest culprit,” Nick agreed. He’d had a time trying to convince Bailey that it wasn’t something big and mean trying to claw its way into the house through the wall. “We spent a couple hours in the rocking chair.” After his girls fell asleep, he managed to struggle to his feet and put them both in Kendra’s bed, where they were still snuggled together.
“There are limbs everywhere. I wish the great-great-grandfolk had planted another type of tree. Cottonwoods are shallow rooted and elms break. We’re lucky those old cottonwoods are still standing.”
“How’re the goats?”
“I let them out. They’re happily exploring the mayhem.”
Nick rubbed a hand over his face and yawned again.
“Maybe you can slip a nap in later today.”
He shook his head, giving her a bleary look. “I gave up napping when Kendra was born.”
Katie laughed. “That said, you might try. We’re going to plant seeds today, so the house should be quiet.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Even though there was no way he was going to waste time napping. Nick drained his cup and got to his feet as his phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number, which meant a robocall, a wrong number or someone who’d picked up one of his cards at Cooper’s Building Supply. He answered in case it was a potential job. Windstorms did tend to bring in work.
“Nick Callahan.”
“Hello.” There was an intake of breath and then, “This is Alex Ryan.”
Nick frowned first at the phone, then at Katie, who mouthed, “Who is it?” He held up a finger before saying, “Yeah. Alex. What do you need?” Katie’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of their neighbor’s name.
“I...uh...” She cleared her throat as her voice wavered. “I need a contractor.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
There was a definite wobble in her voice. Something had happened, and it had to be dire if she’d called him after yesterday’s performance.
“I know I have no right to call after yesterday, but you’re the only person I know in the area.”
“Wind damage?”
“There’s a branch sticking through my window, and the porch...the porch is ruined.”
He let out a silent sigh, meeting Katie’s gaze.
“I’ll watch the girls,” she said as if he’d asked the question out loud.
“Do you have coffee?” he said into the phone.
“I...I can have coffee ready.”
“I’ll be right over.”
“The lock.”
“Give me the combination,” he said reasonably. “Or meet me at your back gate.” Which he could unlock in about three seconds by undoing the wires of the fence to which it was connected. Besides that, bicycle locks were more of a statement than a deterrent, even when used with bicycles.
“The combination is 6-10-92.”
Which was probably her birthday. “Got it. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Maybe sooner.”
He hung up the phone and gave his head a shake as if to clear it. It didn’t work. “Our neighbor needs a contractor. Are you sure about the girls?”
“We already made plans for planting.”
“They’ll probably be asleep for hours after being awake for most of the night.”
“I’ve got stuff to do in the house, too.”
“Then I guess I’m off to see Ms. Ryan.” He drained his cup and rinsed it, then started toward the door.
“Hey, Nick?”
He glanced back at Katie.
“Maybe you can use this situation to negotiate for right-of-way through the property?”
He grabbed his ball cap off a hook and slipped it onto his head. “Yeah. My thoughts exactly.”
“You know what that means.”
“Be tactful...”
“I think you have an advantage this time.”
“Agreed.” Now all he had to do was not blow it.
Fifteen minutes later, Nick pulled into the Dunlop ranch and parked next to Alex’s car, which appeared to have suffered no harm despite being surrounded by small broken branches. He turned off the ignition, palming the keys as he studied the damage. Like many of the older ranches in the area, the house and outbuildings of the Dunlop were surrounded by elms and cottonwoods—trees that gave shade but, as they aged, fell victim to windstorms.
One particularly large limb had crushed the porch and broken the front window, its leafy fingers extending into the interior of the house. He hoped Alex had already called her insurance company and submitted photos, because this was going to be a beast to clear, and he wanted to get started. He needed to order the window and would probably have to drive to Dillon to get it. It was unlikely that Emmie could get one there on short notice, and he had a feeling that Alex wasn’t going to want to sleep with cardboard duct-taped over a gaping hole in her house.
He got out of the truck just as she appeared from behind the house, dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans, her hair twisted up into a bun that looked like it was seconds away from allowing gravity to take control. Yet somehow, despite the flannel and denim and slept-in hairdo, she managed to look elegant as she picked her way around and over branches and limbs. He could easily picture her overseeing some kind of ritzy charity function, and maybe she had at one time. Maybe she would again. In his gut he knew that, whoever Alex Ryan was or had been, she didn’t belong in rural Montana.
Once clear of the branches, she strode toward him like a woman on a mission, her chin up, her jaw set. She stopped a little farther away from him than necessary. Far enough that he clearly got the message not to get too close, but near enough that he could see the eff
ect of sleep deprivation in the shadows beneath her green eyes. She must have had a hellacious night.
She moistened her lips and he tried not to stare, but she did have a really nice mouth.“I appreciate you coming after yesterday.” She shifted her weight and her cheeks flushed a little before she added, “And the day before.”
He regarded her for a long moment, debating about how involved he wanted to get. If it would get him access, then he wanted to get very involved. But even if he hadn’t had an agenda, there was something about the woman that stirred things inside him, made him want to help her if he could. She had secrets, and even though he was a live-and-let-live, mind-your-own-business guy, he wanted to know what they were. He wanted to know what had brought her to this rural corner of Montana, made her desperate enough to buy a property out from under him—a property that did not seem to suit her in the least.
“Maybe we can start over.”
“You’d be willing to do that?” She seemed surprised, as if such occurrences were rare in her life. Or maybe unheard of.
“I’d be willing to look for common ground.”
Her lips parted, then closed again. She gave a small nod and said, “Very well.”
He wondered what she’d been about to say, then forced his mind to the matter before him. One big mother of a branch. “I’ll take a look. See what we’re up against.”
She took a step back. “Thank you.” Spoken in a prim, polite way, a way meant to keep a distance between them, even if she looked like a person who needed a hug.
Fortunately for her, he wasn’t the hugging type, so no danger there.
He’d just started toward the damaged porch when the phone rang in his back pocket. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, then said, “Hello.”
“Hey, sorry to bug you,” Katie said, “but have you seen Bailey’s elephant?”
He stopped walking and put a hand on his forehead, closing his eyes as he tried to remember where he’d last seen his youngest daughter’s security buddy. “The unicorn won’t do?”
Alex shot him a curious look, and only then did he realize how his perfectly logical response must have sounded to someone who didn’t know his daughter.
“Nope,” Katie said. “She has the unicorn but wants the elephant, too.”
“A double-buddy day? Well, she did have a bad night.” No terrors, but that wind-monster-clawing-the-house thing had really bothered her. She’d hugged the unicorn all night long, but the elephant... Nick frowned. “She doesn’t think the house-clawing monster got it, does she?”
“Bingo.”
He had a sudden flash. “Try my sock drawer. I think she put it to bed there yesterday.”
“Just a sec...” He could hear Katie navigating her way through the house and chanced a look at Alex, who looked away guiltily when their gazes connected. She’d been staring and he’d caught her. But he really couldn’t blame her for staring, given the conversation. “Yes! Ellie is here. Thanks, Nick.”
“No problem. Call if you need anything else located.”
“Everything going all right?” Translation—was he going to be able to negotiate for access?
“Yeah. I think it is,” he said. “Talk to you later.”
He pocketed the phone and met Alex’s gaze blandly. “Shall we?”
“Yes.” This time her response didn’t sound prim and proper and restrained. Instead it sounded curious and a touch hesitant. “Do you have kids?”
“I do.”
“Ah. Good.”
The exaggerated relief in her voice made him want to smile. “What would you have said if I’d said no?”
“I’m not sure.” She pushed her hands into her front pockets. “I do need this limb removed and the window replaced, so... I’d have kept my distance and kept my Slugger at the ready.”
“Your slugger?”
“I played softball at school. I have my bat with me.”
“Huh.”
“What does that mean?”
He stopped at the front gate, looking her over. “I guess that means that I took you as more of a dancer than a softball player.”
She frowned at him. “Is that an insult?”
He considered for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t think so.” Although, again, he never would have pegged her for a softball player.
A smile teased the corners of her mouth, fascinating him, then she remembered herself and the smile faded. “There’s a lot to do,” she stated, gesturing at the branch and the crushed porch.
“Yeah.” He tipped back his ball cap. “I can get the debris cleared and the window ordered, but I won’t get it in time to install today.”
“Can you come back tomorrow?”
“Can you live with cardboard taped over the hole?”
As he’d suspected, she did not appear thrilled at the prospect. But she squared her shoulders and said, “I’ll manage.”
But would she sleep? Probably not.
He thought about pointing out that break-ins and crime in general were rare in the area, but Alex Ryan wasn’t hiding from local hoodlums. No. Something else had her spooked. Something from her past.
“Before I get started, why don’t I take a look at your broken gate?”
“Uh...yes. Sure.”
She led the way over and around branches, then through a side gate in the rickety picket fence. That gate listed badly, but it had two hinges. The gate at the rear of the weed-choked yard hung by one.
Nick crossed the yard and lifted the sagging gate with one hand. The remaining hinge broke free, and Alex gave a groan. He turned in time to see her shoulders sag, but she lifted them as soon as his gaze connected with hers.
“The post is rotted.”
“How do we fix that?” she asked.
“We have to replace the post.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck as he studied the rest of the fence. He didn’t dare touch it, or it would fall down. “Wanda will never approve this.”
Her mouth opened as though she was surprised he knew that Wanda would make a home inspection before allowing one of her dogs into a foster home, then seemed to recall that Gavin was a small town.
“I...”
Nick waited a couple of seconds, watching her as she inspected the fence and then gave a slow nod.
“I hadn’t really looked at it before.”
“If you want, I can fix the fence, too.”
She shot him a wary look, obviously waiting for him to drop the ultimatum—I’ll fix the fence if you allow me access through your property. It was the perfect moment, but Nick kept his mouth shut.
She frowned, her light brown eyebrows drawing closer together as she studied him. “How long would it take and how much do you think it would cost?”
“I can do it in two days—one day to tear out the old fence, another to build the new one once I get the materials.”
“I see. And the cost?”
He told her his hourly rate. “Plus materials.”
She gave a nod. “Very well. Can you take care of ordering the materials? I don’t seem to have a lot of luck at the lumber store.”
He accepted the zing with good grace. “That’s part of the job.”
She studied him for a moment, her expression holding an edge of caution, as if she was still waiting for him to spring the deal on her. He did not...and he couldn’t explain to himself why he didn’t.
You’re playing the long game.
Of course. The long game.
If she came to trust him, it would be better for everyone.
And you may lose this opportunity if she doesn’t come to trust you.
Yes. He might. But he was going to take the risk. Go for the bigger reward, which was not only access but perhaps first option on the house if she decided to sell again.
“When can y
ou start?”
“What kind of fence do you want?”
“One that’s dog proof.”
“I’ll price out some options and go over them when I bring the window tomorrow. In the meantime, I have cardboard to tape over the open space.”
She nodded as if she’d come to terms with a night behind cardboard, but he didn’t believe she had.
“If you want a place to stay until we get the window in, there’s room at the ranch. The manager’s house is—”
“Oh, no,” she said hurriedly. “I’m fine. My gates are locked. No issues.”
Right. “Then I guess I’ll measure the window and clear enough debris away to put the cardboard in place.”
“I’ll help.”
He almost said “Are you sure?” but he’d already insulted her by not pegging her as a softball player, so he kept his mouth shut. “Got some gloves?”
“I think I might.”
“Great. I’ll meet you in the front once you find them.”
* * *
TRUE TO FORM, Aunt Juliet hadn’t completely moved out of the house when she’d left. She’d crammed boxes of odds and ends into closets and the pantry and the half basement. Alex was fairly certain she’d spotted a pair of gardening gloves in a box somewhere. Judging from the condition of the gardens, it had been a while since the gloves had seen any use, but they would see use today. The sooner Nick got the debris cleared away from the window, the sooner he could commence fixing things. And maybe he could get a start on the fence and then Alex could bring Gus, her soon-to-be-fostered golden retriever mix, home with her.
She needed the companionship, and last night she would have given just about anything to have had the dog with her after the branch had come crashing in through the window.
And tonight was the same—she’d give just about anything not to be alone in her house with only cardboard and tape standing between her and the outside world, but she couldn’t bring herself to accept Nick Callahan’s offer to stay on his ranch. She’d barely allowed him to finish making the offer.
Why?
Part of it was logic. Glass wasn’t much better than cardboard and tape if someone wanted to enter a house. Both gave way easily, so she really had no more reason to stay at his ranch tonight than she did any other night. The level of risk was approximately the same.