by Alana Terry
“Yes, I’ll get the rental company to bring me a new car at work. It never fails when I’m running around late that stuff like this happens. This week has been one disaster after another.” Brilliant. Any guy would be attracted to a disaster magnet.
“It always seems to happen that way, doesn’t it?” Grayson opened the car door for her.
She murmured her thanks and slid into the low-slung Dodge Charger, the leather seats wrapping around her. Even though she drove a sporty Jetta, she had a thing for muscle cars, especially the retro ones from the 60s and 70s. But this newer model was pretty nice too.
Grayson pulled out of the parking lot, and she couldn’t figure out what to say. Should she comment on his car or would that sound like some bubbly girl trying to flatter him? The silence stretched out awkwardly. She was wasting this time with him. She wracked her brain but could come up with nothing. Big old blank slate.
He glanced over at her. “So tell me the whole story about your car now that we’re not pressed for time.”
Her shoulders relaxed. This she could do. She told him about taking pictures, hearing the water, seeing the man run off—“Oh, wow! I just remembered.” She covered her mouth with her hand. With all the activity about the busted pipes and her car, she completely forgot.
She turned to Grayson. “I have a picture of the guy on my camera.”
GRAYSON LEANED OVER the back of Cait’s chair as she fiddled with her computer. Her hair smelled faintly sweet and tropical. Like mangoes. He hoped his sniffing wasn’t obvious.
“Here it is.” A series of photos flashed on her large monitor, arranging themselves as thumbnails in a grid as they loaded from her flash card. She clicked on one to enlarge it to fill the whole screen. A green strawberry leaf dotted with dew and a delicate white flower appeared. Something ordinary turned lovely by an unusual perspective.
She clicked through a few more—too quickly for him to study them—before she slowed. Fog covered most of the screen with damp ground at the bottom. And a shadowy figure. She clicked again though the next few photos as the figure emerged and receded. Finally, she stopped. “There.”
It wasn’t the clearest picture, but it was as good as those he’d seen from surveillance cameras. What did it all mean?
Cait dug through her desk drawer and pulled out a business card. “Here it is. Detective Kyle Taylor, Laguna Vista PD. I need to call him tomorrow and tell him about this.” She clicked a few more times before shutting her computer down. She put the flash card in a small case and stacked it on top of the detective’s card.
He leaned back in his chair. “Who do you think that is?”
Cait stood. “Do you want some coffee? I can make decaf.”
He smiled. That was the best offer he’d had all night. “Sounds great.” He followed her out of the living room, where her desk was set up in a corner, through the dining room.
She skirted around the edge of the room. “Watch your step.” She pointed to a sheet of plywood laying on the dining room floor.
He followed her footsteps. “What’s the deal with that?”
She grimaced. “The floorboards are rotten. You might end up in the root cellar. Yet something else on my never-ending to-do list.”
He caught a glimpse of her overwhelming burden. It seemed nearly impossible that she could rehab this house by herself. Wait. “Root cellar? That’s pretty rare around here.”
“It’s creepy is what it is. I think it was mostly used for storing canning jars. Spiders and bugs love it. I stay out of it.” She shivered and then stepped through the doorway into the kitchen.
“Wow!” In contrast to the clearly in-progress dining and living rooms, the kitchen was beautifully remodeled. Soapstone countertops, apron-front farmhouse sink, beadboard cupboards. Classic subway tile backsplash. Stainless steel appliances and a commercial-type range. “This is gorgeous.”
“Thanks.” She started the coffee in a bright red Keurig. “Cream? Sugar?”
“Cream, thanks.”
“This was my second project. My first was the master bath. I figured if I had a bathroom and a kitchen, I could handle going without a lot of other things.” She handed him his mug of coffee.
“Did you do the work yourself?” He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around petite Cait doing the heavy lifting a remodel like this would require.
“A lot of it. I contracted out the plumbing and electric. But I refinished and rearranged all the cabinets myself, calling in a few favors when I needed some muscle. I tiled the backsplash. Got the soapstone countertops from another old house and had them resurfaced.” She leaned against the island—shoulders relaxed and a smile soft around her lips—sipping from her mug.
He shook his head, amazed. “That is really something. My dad and I restore old cars, so I know a bit about what you’re talking about, but this is a huge project.”
She tilted her head. “I’ll show you the rest of the house.”
Huh. So the subject of what happened at the farm was tabled for now. He’d follow her lead, but he wasn’t leaving here tonight without a better sense of the danger she was in.
CAIT WASN’T SURE WHAT made her decide to show Grayson her house—all of it, the completed parts and the works in progress. She’d shown it to so few people. Most thought she was crazy for attempting a project this ambitious. But he seemed so interested and complimentary of the work she had done. Plus, she liked having him around. It was a work night, so she knew he wouldn’t be able to stay much longer, but talking about her house was better than thinking about what happened at the farm, and what that could mean for her.
They were back in the kitchen, perched on barstools.
“Too bad it’s too dark or I’d show you my gardens.” She gestured toward a glass door that led to the back yard. “They actually look pretty good.”
“You garden too? I’ll have to come back another time and see them.”
“You can blame my grandma.” She laughed. “I spent most of my days after school at her house learning how to garden, cook, sew, fix things.” She hugged her arms across her middle. “Makes me feel close to her, I guess.”
Grayson nodded. “I can understand that. I’ve worked with my dad on cars since I was old enough to hand him tools. My older brother, Daniel, wasn’t interested so it was something Dad and I could do together.” He set his mug down. “About that guy in the picture. Do you know who he is?”
She shook her head. “No. I’ve been thinking about it ever since. It seems like the work of a disgruntled employee who wanted to get back at us. But the Samashimas treat everyone so well, and they haven’t let go of anyone lately. We’ve actually been expanding. A lot of restaurants want to carry our produce. We grow more than just strawberries. And the farm store is always busy, so we’ve hired more help for that.”
“If you weren’t there, and he succeeded in flooding the whole area, what would have happened?”
This was exactly where she didn’t want to go. The coffee soured in her stomach. “It would have been really bad. We could have lost a good portion of our strawberry crop. That would have cost us commercial and retail customers. Probably some restaurants. We would have to lay off people.” She met his gaze. “And I would take a huge cut in pay since most of my salary is commission off commercial and restaurant sales.”
He didn’t say anything, just stared into his coffee mug. When he looked up at her, his blue eyes had darkened. “Do you feel safe staying here?”
Chapter 3
ENSCONCED in her office at the farm, Cait hung up the phone. Detective Taylor was on his way over. She turned his card over in her fingers thinking about what Grayson had asked her last night. Other than the creepy root cellar, she’d never felt unsafe in her own house. She’d been alone so much growing up that empty houses didn’t bother her.
But she was uneasy. Was that from the farm vandalism or something else? Working for a farm meant her job security was based on the whims of the weather, pests, market, and a whole lot
of other things she couldn’t control. She couldn’t see the damaged area from her office window, and she had specifically avoided it the last few days. It was bad enough to see the broken glass from her car windows in the parking lot until Mario had someone sweep it up.
This was a one-time thing. It had to be. None of it made any sense. But there couldn’t be any more to it because she couldn’t lose any accounts. In fact, she needed at least two more to earn enough money to bring the rest of the electrical in her house up to code. She couldn’t do anything else until that happened. And she was out of money.
At the knock on her doorframe, she turned from her mindless gazing at the computer. A tall man with broad shoulders and close-cut sandy blond hair filled the doorway.
She stood from her seat, extending her hand, “Detective Taylor, I presume.”
He shook it. “And you must be Cait Bellamy.” He glanced at the coffee cup on her desk, courtesy of her pit stop with Heather this morning as payment for bringing Cait to work. “I spend way too much time at the Jitter Bug. Great coffee and great desserts. That’s hard to beat.”
She laughed. “I know. It’s ridiculously tempting.” She turned her monitor so he could see it better. “Here are the photos I got. They aren’t the greatest, but maybe they’ll be of some help.”
His gray eyes studied the monitor, not saying much other than having her switch between the photos. “Can you print me copies and email the full-size files to me? I’ll see if our guys can do anything to clean these up.”
“Sure.” She sent the files to print. Swallowing, she asked, “Do you have any more information on who might have done this? Or why?”
He shook his head. “Nothing yet, but we have a few leads we’re pursuing.”
She pulled the photos off the printer tray and handed them to him.
“Thanks for these. I’ll let you know if anything comes of this.” He left her office.
After emailing him the files, she leaned back in her chair. Work was elusive today. She poked around the farm’s social media sites, but she couldn’t do justice to analyzing any metrics.
She thought about sitting in her kitchen with Grayson, drinking coffee last night. Warmth curled through her stomach. She had enjoyed it. When would she see him again? He had said he wanted to view her garden, but maybe he was just being nice. He’d also looked straight into her eyes when he’d told her to call him for any reason. He’d grabbed her cell phone and punched his number in.
Turning back to her computer, she pulled up her house project spreadsheet from Google Drive. Was there anything else she could work on until the electrical was done? Had she missed something?
Nope. Other than the kitchen, which had already been gutted and rewired, everything in the house had the potential to be disturbed by running new wires for fixtures and outlets.
She could work on patching the dining room floor, but the idea of going into the root cellar underneath it gave her the willies. She’d have to see who she could recruit to help her. Grayson’s face flashed through her mind, but she immediately dismissed it. She couldn’t possibly ask him. She hadn’t known him long enough to ask for such a big favor.
In the meantime, it looked like her garden and landscaping was going to get a lot of attention.
As for Grayson, if she didn’t run into him at church on Sunday, she would see him at choir practice. That was going to have to be good enough for now.
Or so she told herself.
GRAYSON STEPPED INTO his office. A pile of papers had grown overnight, thanks to his too-efficient administrative assistant. He flipped through them. Contracts, legal descriptions, owners’ rolls.
He plopped into his chair and blew out a breath. He really wanted to call Cait and see what the detective had said about those photos. Even though he’d told her to call him for anything, he knew she wouldn’t. She was too self-possessed. Look at all she had done on that house by herself.
Still, who would target that farm? What could they possibly gain?
In his world, it would be land. It was all about land. So did someone want the farm? The land would be valuable as a development. And many farmers had sold out over the past decades just for that reason, choosing to take the certainty of the cash over the variability of farming.
Wondering... he logged into his computer and pulled up a map of the farm. With a little digging, he was able to find out who owned the land surrounding the farm. DiMarco Development owned a lot. No surprise. They were a big player in the area. One he hoped he could work with on the deal he was trying to put together himself.
He closed the tabs. He had plenty of work to do, even without the big deal he was trying to put together. He had a client that owned some land that he wanted to develop but didn’t know how. He had another client with land not too far away. If they could get the land connecting them, get the right developers involved, pull together some engineers and architects who were willing to invest their time and talents, as well as some financial backers, this could be huge. The payoff would be great for everyone involved.
And most of all, it would prove that his analytical mind was good for more than just reading through contracts and fine print. He could actually make deals. He could point to something physical and say, “I did that.”
With a bit more research, he could put the finishing touches on his presentation and start going down the list of the people he needed to get on board.
Including his boss, who more than once had told him to forget it, that it would never work. Grayson had heard that before, but he had a few lost-cause projects under his belt to know enough to trust his instincts. Too bad his boss hadn’t been impressed. So Grayson had no slack on his other work. The development had to be a side deal.
The pile of paperwork called to him, but he needed more coffee before he could tackle it. And before he could change his mind, he punched up Cait’s number. Lunch would be a good distraction and give him something to look forward to.
CAIT’S PHONE BUZZED, and she jumped. Grayson’s name appeared on the screen. She stared at it, hands shaking. It was almost as if she had conjured him up by her thoughts. But, no, he was really calling.
She fumbled to answer before it went to voice mail.
Grayson’s voice, warm as sunshine, came through the phone. “So I know this is late notice and you probably already have plans, but since I figured you might still be stuck at work without a car, I wondered if you were up for lunch.”
A thousand thoughts flooded her brain and begged for attention. She grabbed onto one of them to shove out her mouth. “Sure. I’d love to.”
“Great! I’ll see you in about 30 minutes. Think about where you want to go.”
Still shaking, she dropped her phone on her desk. Suppressing a giggle, she fell back against her chair. This was ridiculous. It was just lunch, and she wasn’t in high school crushing on the big football star.
But it did fan the flame of hope that he was interested in her, beyond just being a nice guy doing a good deed. She pulled out a mirror from her desk drawer and quickly checked her hair and makeup, thinking she was being completely ridiculous the whole time. Still, she continued.
Don’t get your hopes up. There was a reason she kept to herself for the most part. People could be nice on the surface, but the moment you put any hope or trust in them, they would disappoint you. And she didn’t want to be disappointed by Grayson.
Telling her butterflies to be realistic, she picked up the phone. The rental car company still hadn’t dropped off her new car. She had time for a quick call before Grayson got here. Not that she would get much done today anyway. A short conversation, and the car agency assured her they were sending someone out within the hour and they would leave the keys in the office if she wasn’t there.
That taken care of, she grabbed her purse and headed outside. Might as well expend some nervous energy walking around the farm. She could head to the barn and see if any babies had been born since her last visit. Everybody loved picture
s of the babies on social media. The hobby farm was a big hit with kids and grownups too. Most people weren’t around farm animals anymore.
Watching where she stepped, she laughed as the chickens scattered before her, clucking their discontent with her disturbance. The goats were in their pen, climbing up the obstacles set in there for them and knocking each other off. The pregnant one was still rounded. No kid yet.
She imagined that’s what having siblings must be like. As an only child, she’d always wished she’d had a brother or sister to keep her company when her folks were gone. But she did enjoy having Grandma’s attention all to herself.
She walked through the open barn door, the smell of straw, manure, and animals strangely comforting. She checked the pens of the cows. No babies there either.
Conscious of going out to lunch, she avoided touching anything. But she could still look. She leaned over the railing of the last stall. Nope. Pulling back, her shirt tightened around her. What?
She searched for what was restraining her but couldn’t see anything. Tugging, she heard a ripping sound just before she was freed. The lower flare of her tunic had gotten caught on a raised nail head hidden under the rail. A nice swatch of the fabric remained on the nail.
The shirt still covered her, but it was obvious a chunk was missing. Normally, she’d just hide in her office the rest of the day, but Grayson was coming. Gah!
She hustled out of the barn, blinking at the sunlight. A beautiful day, no matter that it was February. She rearranged her purse to cover the worst of the tear. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. Men never noticed what women were wearing, right?
GRAYSON FORCED HIMSELF to remember to eat as he sat with Cait on the patio of a local food court. Even though it was technically still winter, it felt like a beautiful, early summer day. That was California for you.
But as beautiful as the day was with a light breeze and puffy clouds skidding across the cadet blue sky, it didn’t hold a candle to Cait. Even with the rip across the bottom of her shirt that she tried to hide with her purse.