by Linda Style
“You want to know more, just ask the sheriff or anyone in town. They’ll tell you all kinds of stuff about me—stuff even I don’t know.” The pain in his eyes conflicted with the lightness of his words.
“I prefer to draw my own conclusions about people.”
He drove in another nail. “Suit yourself.”
“Okay. Was it an accident?”
He turned to her, his eyes pooling with remorse. “I was responsible. It doesn’t matter whether it was an accident or not.”
She wasn’t sure what to say. She knew all about guilt. She’d carried her own burden for so long that her life had come to a screeching halt. She’d felt enormous guilt after Georgetown. The man who’d broken into her apartment wielding a gun, had bound and gagged her, and then violated her roommate as Maddy watched in terror. Whenever Maddy closed her eyes, he’d hit her in the face with his gun. Though she’d been helpless, she couldn’t stop feeling she could’ve done something. Anything.
When the police finally apprehended the man and she discovered who he was, guilt took over her life. She’d gone back to Epiphany, and it had taken four years and lots of therapy before she was ready for a new start.
“And you’re doing penance for the rest of your life because of it,” she said softly.
“What?”
He obviously hadn’t expected the comment. “You feel guilty, so you’re not going to cut yourself any slack.”
The muscles in his jaw tightened. “What’s this, the morning version of the Dr. Phil show? Psychoanalysis with coffee?”
“I know what living with guilt is like,” she said.
He hauled in a deep breath, then quietly, evenly, said, “You don’t know anything about how I feel.” The pain in his voice was unmistakable.
She shriveled a little inside and had to look away. He’d put her in her place—and truth be told, he had a point. She didn’t really know how he felt. She couldn’t. “You’re right, and I apologize for making that assumption. Really. I’m sorry.”
He went back to pounding nails and she stood there, quiet for a bit. Finally, she said, “So, have you decided what you’d like me to do around here? I’m perfectly willing to donate my time. You wouldn’t have to pay me or anything—”
He looked at her in disbelief, then laughed. “You’re too much, you know that?”
“Please. I really need to keep busy.” Damn. She felt like a little kid begging for candy.
Exhaling loudly, he stepped down from the ladder. “You’re the most irritatingly persistent person I know.”
She grinned weakly. “I know that. But you need me.”
“I need you?” The amusement shone in his eyes. “Yeah. Now that you mention it, I do have some needs that aren’t being met.” He lifted a hand to her face and brushed his thumb against her bottom lip.
Her heart thumped in her chest. The idea of calling his bluff suddenly appealed to her. Instead of pulling away, she leaned closer. “Well, like I said, I’ll be more than happy to lend a hand. Just tell me what you’d like me to do,” she said softly.
A quick flash of surprise crossed his face. It was the only indication that she’d caught him off guard. In the next instant, he smiled, self-assured and confident.
“I think you should stick to what you’re good at,” he said. “And since you’re the one who offered, why don’t you tell me your other areas of expertise.”
He sounded serious, as if he might reconsider. Okay. She had his ear. Exude confidence. Be convincing.
“Well, my brother buys old homes and fixes them up for resale, and I’ve helped him some with redecorating and refinishing. So, you could do the same in your kitchen. Instead of ripping it apart, why not work with what’s there? The result would be more authentic. With a little elbow grease, the cabinets could be stripped and refinished to look like new, and the fireplace, well, you saw how great it could be with just a cleaning. Then there are the walls… I have some great ideas about those if you want to hear them. It would be faster, easier and cheaper to refinish than reconstruct. And as I said, more authentic. You wouldn’t have to hire anyone and—”
“Cut.” He held up one hand.
Maddy stopped, her mouth half-open, but when he didn’t say anything immediately, she began again. “It’s really the best way to—”
“Okay. Okay!” He glared at her, then went back to his work. “I’ll think about it.”
Her pulse raced. Wow. He’d actually agreed. Well, not agreed, but he was going to consider her ideas.
She felt a sudden sense of accomplishment. “Great. I’m ready whenever.”
Apparently finished with the conversation, he climbed the ladder and started hammering again.
Maddy knew little about J.D. Rivera, and it struck her that she wanted to know so much more. She wanted to know all about him—what had happened to him in the years between living on the ranch as a kid and when he’d returned a few weeks ago. What made him so afraid to let his feelings show.
Her gaze swept over his backside, over faded jeans and the white V-neck T-shirt that accented hard muscles and bronzed skin tones, and a quick heat grew low in her stomach. She’d never felt this way—not even when she’d been madly in lust with Harvey Hepplewhite in high school. But mostly, she couldn’t stop thinking about how wonderful she’d felt when he’d kissed her, how warm and delicious his mouth had been and how solid and hard his body had been against hers.
She leaned against the side of the building and a light breeze wafted over her. He’d been in a happy mood, and talking about his past seemed only to stir up hurtful memories and bad feelings. But she knew better than anyone that sometimes those feelings had to be recognized before a person could let them go.
“Benito still asleep?”
“Yep. Guess he had a tough night.” He tapped a nail into the window frame, then with two hard swift strokes, drove it in all the way.
“What do you think of his relatives leaving him alone like that? Seems kind of strange, doesn’t it?”
He drove in another nail. “No. In fact, it’s probably the norm. These kids learn early on to take care of themselves.”
Like you? He’d said as much when he told her no one cared about him but himself. Was that why he’d lied for Benito last night? “Well, I’m all for children learning self-sufficiency as they grow older, but there’s also something to be said for protecting them and letting them be children while they can. No child should have to work full-time, especially not at such a young age. And I can’t imagine his parents wanting him to do that, much less wanting him to be left alone. That’s child abuse as far as I’m concerned.”
“But you’re not concerned. It’s none of your business,” he said flatly.
She squared her shoulders. “Well, I believe it is, and it should be yours, too. I don’t see how you can dismiss the issue so easily.”
The words had barely left her lips when she saw his back muscles tense. Now she really had said too much. Maybe even spoiled the fragile rapport they’d developed so far. But she couldn’t change how she felt, and if she’d learned anything in her week at the ranch, it was that she’d never get anything by being quiet. Still, she didn’t want to be pushy and possibly make things even worse.
“To each his own,” she said quickly, then decided to leave.
She was only a few feet away when the hammering stopped, and in a softer tone he said, “Listen…about last night…”
She froze, then turned, ready to tell him she was okay with what had happened, that they didn’t need to make a big deal out of it and he didn’t owe her any explanation, when he said, “I had too much to drink and…alcohol sometimes has a negative effect on me.”
The blood in her veins felt as if it had drained to her toes. Even though she’d tasted alcohol on his breath and considered briefly that he might be under the influence—she’d dismissed it. He’d seemed fine. And now…
Hell, what had she expected? That after one kiss he’d express his undying
love?
Not really. But she rather liked thinking that he found her desirable, that he liked her and…and what? And nothing. Except that she’d made a complete fool of herself.
“I was out of line,” he said. Final words that cut into her fragile ego like a sharp knife.
Waving a hand in dismissal, she managed to say, “No need to apologize. I understand perfectly.” All she wanted to do now was get out of there.
She took a half-dozen steps toward the road, when she heard him call out, “Be careful.”
She kept on going, her humiliation burning a hole in her chest.
A couple steps later, he called out again, “And stay on the road. The desert can be a dangerous place.”
NO KIDDING! But the only danger in her case was massive injury to her self-esteem not her health or well-being. Maddy plodded down the road, mentally whipping herself with each thud of her feet on the hard-packed sand. Stupid. How could she have been so stupid? Lord, when did she start wanting to feel desirable and attractive? When did she start thinking about romance in her life?
She’d given up on all that long ago.
She jogged a half mile or so and took a left on a smaller road, one she’d taken before, and then veered off on a smaller path that circled around and came back to the main road. The first time she’d gone down the narrow path, she’d noticed that the desert wasn’t flat as she’d always thought, but was patterned with a series of hills and washes, some parts lush with plants and trees. Paloverde trees, she’d read, and mesquite. The air was crisp, clear and fresh and she was astonished at how far she could see.
One morning a long-eared rabbit had loped across the road in front of her, and birds and lizards were all around. The desert was alive. She liked it, liked the feel of nature in the raw—a place where man was truly the outsider.
She stopped in the middle of the path to rest, bending at the waist to catch her breath. Despite her stupidity, she was pleased she’d stayed to complete the contract. She felt happier than she had in years.
But she had to remember that this job was simply a way station, something to do until her real life began.
Why she’d been fantasizing about J.D. was a mystery. Romance wasn’t even on her list. It was something that might or might not happen when she got the rest of her life straightened out. If and when it did, her dream man certainly wouldn’t be a cynical guy like J.D. Rivera.
Rested, she touched her toes to stretch her muscles, and as she did, she noticed a footprint. A footprint that wasn’t hers. She glanced around. There were several footprints and what appeared to be smudges—as if someone had tried to disguise them. Or maybe there’d been a scuffle or fight. She followed one set of footprints for a few feet but then they disappeared altogether. Odd. She made a mental note to mention it to J.D.
Twenty minutes later when she rounded the curve on the road to the ranch, she saw a big black limo in the driveway. As she got closer, she noticed a man in a uniform loitering in the shade next to the vehicle. A driver. Someone to see J.D.?
She quickly scanned the yard. J.D. was still working on the same building, and Carlos and Benito were alongside him. She started walking over to J.D., but as she got closer, he called out, “Some lady is here to see you.”
“Me?” Who’d be there to see her?
“I told her to wait inside.”
“Did she say what it was about?”
“Nope.”
“Okay. Thanks,” she said, and headed back to the house. The second she stepped inside, the familiar scent of Chanel N©5 hung heavy in the air. Oh, God. Her stomach knotted. Not here. She couldn’t be here.
With dread, Maddy went into the parlor.
“Hello, Madeline,” her mother said, smiling as if her being in Arizona at the Tripplehorne Ranch was nothing unusual at all.
Rachel Inglewood was sitting in the same chair Maddy had sat in when she’d first arrived. Rachel’s back was rigid, her posture perfect, just like everything else about her. The woman didn’t allow a hair out of place.
“Mother, what are you doing here?” Maddy puffed, still out of breath from jogging.
Her mother sobered. “Is that any way to greet your mother who’s made a very long trip just to see you?”
No, it wasn’t a proper greeting, but Maddy felt as if her private little world had been invaded. “I’m sorry, I’m just surprised to see you.” She crossed to her mother and leaned down to give her a hug, but Rachel gestured to Maddy’s sweat-soaked jogging clothes. Maddy stepped back.
“I’ve missed you terribly,” her mother said. “We all miss you.”
“I’ve been gone a week, Mother.”
“Well, dear, it’s long enough.” Rachel glanced around, her lips pursed in distaste. “Your father and I have decided it’s time for you come home.”
“Really? You and Daddy decided that?”
“Well, yes. We’ve been worried, especially with your history…well, you know. And when we didn’t hear from you except that one time, I had to make sure you were okay.” Stopping only briefly for a quick breath, Rachel went on. “And now that I’ve seen the deplorable conditions—” she shook her head and made a tsk-tsk sound. “—your father would have a coronary if he knew you were living in such squalor.”
Maddy’s blood pressure hiked up another notch, but she recited Dr. Sheridan’s words to calm herself. You can do anything if…
“It’s not squalor, Mother. Look around. The place is being renovated. My room has been completely redone and it’s very nice. Besides which, I have a job here. I can’t leave on a whim.”
“I’m sure they can find someone to replace you, dear.”
“I signed a contract.”
Rachel held up a hand to silence her. “A minor thing. Your father can take care of it. He’s never let you down yet, has he?”
“No, of course not.” She didn’t want to hurt her mother’s feelings or seem ungrateful, but she had to make her understand. “You’ve been wonderful. You and Dad. I couldn’t ask for better parents, and I’ll always be grateful for all you’ve done.” She sighed, trying to find just the right words.
“I know you just want to help, but the thing is…I don’t want help right now. I don’t want anyone to take care of anything for me.”
Suddenly she remembered J.D. saying the same thing to her. She hadn’t listened to him then. But that was different. Very different.
“I have to finish this contract. I need to do it—for myself.”
Almost before the words left Maddy’s mouth, her mother started again. “Well, I didn’t want to say anything, but your father can’t get anyone to do the job as well as you did. I guess that’s because no one cares as much as family.”
Maddy gulped some air, a giant knot of frustration and guilt forming in her stomach. “Did you give Randy a chance? He can do anything I can. He only started fixing up old homes because he didn’t know what else to do in Epiphany. I’m sure he’d be happy to help.” She was sure of it. Her brother had always felt bad that their father came to Maddy when he wanted someone to work for him. He never asked Randy. Maddy knew why. Her dad couldn’t accept that Randy had rebelled at an early age against his father’s authoritarian ways. Senator Inglewood couldn’t accept that his son didn’t want to follow in his father’s political footsteps. Maddy had always been more malleable.
The expression on her mother’s face switched from determination to irritation. Then she sighed as if finally accepting Maddy’s choice. But Maddy knew better. Rachel was simply gearing up to try another approach.
“Okay, dear. But your father will worry himself sick if you don’t call more often. Please promise me that you’ll call, and promise that if you need anything, or plan to come home sooner, you’ll let us know immediately.”
Her mother talked as if Maddy was going to come back for good once this job was finished. But why get into that now? All Maddy wanted was for her mother to go home and leave her to do her job. “I will. I’ll call as often as
I can.”
“Good. I’m glad that’s settled. Now, is there a room here for me to stay tonight?”
“H-here?” Maddy sputtered.
“Of course. Though I can’t imagine…” Her voice trailed off as she scanned her surroundings. “But you said your room was nice, didn’t you?”
“I work here, Mother, I can’t be inviting guests to stay.”
“Perhaps a nice hotel then, somewhere close. I can get us a suite, and then you can show me around the area. We can do lunch tomorrow and have some fun shopping, just the two of us—like we used to.”
So this was Rachel’s new strategy. Maddy shook her head. “I have a job to do. People to teach. I can’t run off sight-seeing.”
Her mother’s face hardened. “Well, I’m certainly not going to have the driver take me all the way back to Tucson today. How would that look? There must be a hotel around here, and I’m sure you’ll have some time when you’re not teaching. You don’t do that twenty-four hours a day, do you?”
If her mother stayed anywhere nearby, she’d be back tomorrow to try again. Rachel Inglewood never gave up. “I have…other things to do besides teaching. I’m helping with the renovations.” It wasn’t a total lie. She was helping. Besides her teaching, she was taking care of Zelda. “And the closest hotels are in Tucson or Yuma.”
Clearly pretending she hadn’t heard a word, Rachel said, “Well, why don’t you ask that hired man I spoke with outside. Maybe he knows of a good hotel nearby.”
As if on cue, a knock sounded behind Maddy, and J.D. sauntered into the room. She gave him a tentative smile, hoping that he hadn’t overheard the conversation. But from his expression, she could tell that he had.
He walked over to stand next to her, lifted the bottom of his T-shirt and wiped the sweat from his face, revealing hard, tanned stomach muscles in the process.
Rachel’s mouth fell open, obviously aghast at his bad manners. The bomb was about to detonate, Maddy was sure.
Then, as J.D. let his shirt drop, he said to Maddy, “Just wondering when you might be starting that work in the kitchen.”