Ruby brushed at her skirt. Michael hadn’t told Jake he’d been spending time with her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You pretend to hate him, Grandma, but there’s something in your eyes whenever he’s around.”
“I don’t hate him. But there’s nothing going on between us.” Nothing I’m going to admit to my grandson, anyway.
Jake slowly rotated a piece of gum between his teeth. “Hmm. I wonder.”
“That’s enough, young man,” Ruby said in her sternest voice. “Now spit out that gum.” She pointed to the garbage can in the kitchen. Jake complied without saying anything. “Is there something, besides Michael,” her heart raced as she said his name, “that you’d like to talk about? Maybe the new activities director.”
Jake’s eyes smiled. “Actually, I have been wanting to ask you about something.” He paused. “I’m wondering if you saved anything from your house. You know—books, pictures, any little knick knacks or remembrances?”
“No, nothing. Everything burned.” Ruby groaned inside. She should’ve kept the conversation focused on Michael.
Jake glanced out the window. Then his gaze rested on her face. “I’ve been thinking about Grandpa Don a lot lately.”
Ruby’s stomach clenched. She gripped her hands together, rotating the thumbs around each other. “Why would you do that?”
“He was always so good to me, taking me fishing and then for ice cream. I wish you had a journal or more pictures so I could remember him better.”
Ruby frowned. She only wanted to forget. The diamond and ruby ring on her left hand dug into her finger. She decided at that moment she would give her wedding ring to Brinley. She’d kept wearing it as a mourning widow, but she’d pretended long enough. Don being gone was reason to celebrate, not mourn. She slipped the ring off her finger.
Jake didn’t seem to notice. He kept talking. “I want to remember, but I also want to understand something.”
Her breath caught. What did he want to understand? Jake was a smart boy. What if…
“Grandpa was always so nice to me, but it seemed like he could barely tolerate Dad.” Jake leaned toward Ruby. “Dad said the strangest thing to me once. He said, ‘I wonder if your grandpa has such a hard time with me because I don’t look like him.’”
Her palms were sweating now. “Jake, honey, I’m getting a horrible headache.” She tried to smile. “Why don’t you go and pick up Chanel? You two have a wonderful time. I think I’d better lie down for a bit.”
“Grandma.” He searched her eyes. “Every time I try to talk about Grandpa Don, you get a headache. I know his death was hard on you, but maybe you need to talk about him and then you could come to terms with your loss.”
Ruby tossed her head. She didn’t want to talk about Don. She didn’t even want to think about him. Removing her husband’s imprint from her memory completely would be a better idea.
“He did so much for me.” Jake stared out the window, apparently unaware of his grandmother’s turmoil. Turning back to her, he asked, “What was he like with you? How did he treat you?”
Ruby bit back a sarcastic laugh. The only thing Don ever did was coerce her into undesirable vows and then blackmail her into keeping them. Fifty-one years of marriage. What a waste of a life.
Jake was staring at her, waiting for an answer.
She squinted at him. “It’s so bright in here. I’m starting to see spots.” She passed a hand over her eyes and said weakly, “Oh, heaven help me. I’m certain a migraine is coming. Be a dear and get my medicine, will you?”
Jake sighed, but stood and dutifully went to get her pills. He handed her two, then refastened the lid. With a trembling hand, she took the water he offered and placed the pills on her tongue.
He shook the bottle at her. “Someday soon I want to talk with you about Grandpa.”
The pills caught in her throat. She gasped, drank a large gulp of water, and swallowed. “Could you turn up the air conditioning?” she asked. “These migraines give me awful hot flashes.”
He stalked three steps, tapped the button on the panel a few times, and returned to her side with a suspicious glance.
When Ruby’s heart rate had returned to normal, she patted Jake’s hand. “Close the blinds for me, will you, love?”
“Next time you’re going to have to talk to me,” he said.
She nodded. “Yes, some other time, when I feel better. Thank you for understanding, sweetheart.”
Jake shook his head and closed the blinds, then kissed her cheek before leaving the apartment. Ruby sagged with relief and hoped taking migraine medication without actually having a headache wouldn’t hurt her.
Chapter Fourteen
Chanel waited in the front lobby of the retirement home, absently fingering the birthmark on her temple. A couple of female residents entered through the sliding glass doors, greeted her with a smile, and looked pointedly at her fingers on her face. Trying to stop the habit, Chanel grabbed her purse from the low coffee table and twisted the handle between her fingers.
Seconds later, she eyed the floral arrangement on the table. Olivia had delivered it this morning and her arrangements were always beautiful, but Chanel played with the flowers to keep her hands busy. When the roses, carnations, lilacs, and greenery were arranged in a different if not better pattern, she clutched her purse to her chest again. Shifting on the plush couch, she wished Jake would appear so she could deal with her apprehension rather than stew about it.
“Wow. Didn’t know you owned nice clothes,” a syrupy voice drawled.
Chanel glanced up and forced a smile. “Hi, Tracy.”
The nurse pursed her bright red lips and flipped her blonde locks over one shoulder. She gave Chanel a once-over. “It’s not like you to try to look pretty. What are you all fixed up for?”
Ignoring the jab, Chanel smiled. “I’ve got a date.”
Tracy’s perfectly waxed eyebrows shot toward the ceiling. “How did you find a date in backwards Preston, Idaho?”
“It was almost too easy,” Chanel replied. “He came to me.”
“Oh, really?” Tracy tucked her forearms under her full bosom. “And how did this miracle occur?”
“I met him here at the Palace. You may know him—Jake.” Chanel paused, but found she couldn’t resist. “Oh, I forgot—it’s Dr. Merrill to you.”
“Yes, I know Jake.” Tracy glared at Chanel. “So Ruby finally forced him to take someone out, and you were the lucky sucker. Guess it pays to get in good with the old hags.”
Chanel opened her mouth to protest. “Ruby is not a—”
“He hasn’t dated much since the incident.” Tracy tilted her chin up.
“What incident?”
“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Tracy tapped a blood-red nail against her lips. “Don’t tell anybody where you heard this, but…” She leaned toward Chanel and said in a low voice, “Jake Merrill killed his girlfriend.”
Chanel’s eyes widened, but before she could respond, the subject of their conversation walked into the foyer.
Tracy batted her eyelashes. “Well, hello, Dr. Merrill. Good to see you, as always.” She turned to Chanel and smiled sweetly. “It would appear you’re a bit overdressed. Hope you have a great night.” She sneered at Chanel, winked at Jake, and disappeared through the sliding glass doors.
Chanel looked at Jake. He wore jeans, a white long-sleeve T-shirt, and a navy Utah State Aggies baseball cap. His T-shirt was the perfect contrast for his dark skin and the hair curling from under his hat. He looked great, but unfortunately Tracy was correct. In a coral-colored summer sweater, knee-length silk skirt, and heels, Chanel was extremely overdressed.
His face broke into a grin as his dark eyes traveled over her slowly. He killed his last girlfriend. The thought came unbidden, and Chanel discarded it quickly. She didn’t trust Tracy.
Jake offered her a hand up. Her palm settled against the warmth of his. She returned his smile. Then she remembered the obitua
ry in his photo album. What was that girl’s name? Angela. Was she the girl he killed? Chanel shook her head, realizing Jake was talking to her and she hadn’t answered.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “What did you say?”
His dark eyes twinkled. “I said, ‘You’re beautiful.’”
She blushed. “I don’t know about that.”
“Well, I do.” He placed his hand on her back and escorted her outside. The heat of the day had lifted, and the scent of lavender filled the air.
Jake opened the truck door and helped Chanel climb up.
“Thanks,” she said.
He smiled. “Wouldn’t want you to snag something.”
After settling into the driver’s seat, he turned and smiled at her.
Jake Merrill killed his girlfriend resounded in her head.
He dropped the truck into gear. “Fishin’ in the Dark” played on the radio, and he sang along.
Chanel leaned back in the leather seat. She studied the cottonwood trees trickling white fluff into the air. Jake drove east, deeper into the canyon, instead of west towards the main road.
“Where are we going?” She plucked at her sweater sleeve. What did she really know about Jake?
“Aren’t you listening to the words to the song?”
Chanel shook her head. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
His irresistible grin melted away her silly fears. This was Jake, Ruby’s devoted grandson. He wasn’t going to hurt her.
“I’m wearing heels.”
Jake shrugged. “You can take them off.”
“This shirt is dry clean only.”
He raised an eyebrow.
She tapped her fingers against her arm. “Don’t even say it.”
He winked. “Okay, but can I think it?”
“No.” Chanel straightened her back and tried to look prim. “Absolutely not.”
Jake laughed and sang louder. “Baby get ready, ooooh.”
She had to smile. “Too much Nitty Gritty Dirt Band.”
“You can never have too much.” He took her hand and belted out, “Spending the whole night through, feels so good to be with you.”
She joined him for the next verse. They laughed as her off-key alto clashed with his appealing bass.
Minutes later, he pulled off the main road. He lifted his foot off the gas, but dust billowed behind them and filtered into the cab. Chanel sneezed.
Jake laughed and pressed on the brake. “Allergic to dust?”
“No, just to ruining my silk skirt.”
He pulled to a stop next to a gurgling creek. Groves of aspen trees stretched away from the water. Willows and wildflowers competed for space along the bank.
Jake leaned over the seat, retrieved a grocery sack from the rear of the cab, and handed it to her.
“A present?”
“Sure.”
“Nice wrapping job.” Chanel removed a red T-shirt and silky basketball shorts from the sack. “Yours?”
“My sister’s.” He studied her face, waiting.
“You really know how to spoil a girl.”
“That’s right.” He pointed to the lovely outfit she’d spent hours debating over. “I thought you might be overdressed, so I came prepared.”
“You were right about me being overdressed.” Chanel took a deep breath and released it. “Now you want me to change in front of you?”
“Hey. I’m a gentleman—I’ll close my eyes.” Fingers spread wide, he put one hand over his open eyes. “Can’t see a thing. Promise.”
Chanel pushed him into the doorframe. “You are getting out while I change.”
He opened his door, grumbling. “See if I ask you out again.”
The door shut and Jake went to the water’s edge. Once his back was turned, Chanel shimmied out of her outfit and into the stretchy T-shirt and comfortable shorts. Jake didn’t sneak a glance. She didn’t know if she should feel disappointed or flattered. The shirt was tight, really tight, but she didn’t have much of an option. She could wear the body-hugging T-shirt or risk the demise of her favorite sweater.
She opened the truck door and jumped to the ground barefoot as Jake leaned down to pick up a rock. When Chanel slammed the door, he spun around. For a long moment he stared, the rock slipping from his fingers. “I like your shirt.”
She blushed and smiled. “I borrowed it from a friend.”
Jake swallowed the distance between them with long strides. “I’ll have to thank Brinley later.”
He took Chanel’s hand and led her to the bank. The stream slid by, the water rippling over rounded pebbles. It couldn’t have been wider than ten feet and only a few feet deep at its zenith.
“Are there a lot of fish in this stream?” she asked.
Jake looked at her blankly. “Fish? Who said anything about fishing?”
“The song.”
He stared with wide-eyed innocence.
“If we aren’t fishing, then why did you drive me to the depths of the canyon and make me put on this T-shirt?”
He grinned. “I wanted to get you alone where no one would hear you scream for help. The T-shirt was an unexpected bonus.”
With that, he scooped her into his arms and lugged her down the bank. Chanel screamed and giggled. “Put me down.” She thrashed to get free.
Jake pretended to throw her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on. “No! Don’t let me go.”
He laughed. “You just told me to put you down. Make up your mind.”
“Why are you carrying me?”
Jake sloshed through the knee-deep water. “The other side has softer grass, and I don’t want to get you wet.”
They’d reached the middle of the stream. The cool water swirled around Jake’s legs, creeping up his pants and tickling her toes. His face was so close, she was tempted to reach up and stroke his firm jaw. Or maybe she should get brave, lean in close, and…
Jake slipped on a rock. Chanel screamed as they flew backwards. A rush of cold water entered her nose and mouth, closing over her head. She flailed to regain her balance and get her head above the surface. Her hand hit something solid, and then Jake’s fingers closed over hers. She grabbed at his hand and pulled herself up. Reaching the surface, she spit water and gulped warm air.
Jake’s dark hair shone with droplets of water. His face was filled with concern. He held tight to her arm, wrapped his other arm around her waist, and helped her to the bank they’d started on.
Chanel dropped onto the grass and weeds and tried to catch her breath. Her teeth chattered. The cold water streamed down her face and back from her wet hair. She wrung out her shirt and shorts as best as she could with trembling fingers. The setting sun helped thaw her a bit.
“I’m sorry,” Jake said after a few moments of heavy breathing. “I was trying to be funny and protect you from getting wet. Maybe we’ll stay on this side of the creek.”
“Trying to be funny?” Chanel lay down, stretching out on the foliage covering the bank to soak in the warmth of the greenery.
“Guess I failed.” He leaned over her, lifting a sodden lock of hair and rubbing it between his fingers.
She smiled up at him. Weren’t hair follicles supposed to be dead? If that was true, how could the movement of his fingers on her hair send warmth radiating throughout her body? “It’ll be funny in the morning,” she said.
“I’m sure Ellie will think it was hilarious.”
Chanel groaned. “How will Ellie find out?”
“She always does.”
Chanel felt a stinging pain on her neck. “Ouch.” She sat up.
Jake straightened, releasing her hair. “What?”
“Something bit me.” Now the pain was on her cheek. “Ouch.” Then her neck again. Chanel brushed at whatever was gnawing on her.
Jake’s eyes widened. “They’re all over you.”
“What are?” Jumping to her feet, she swatted and shook.
He stood and brushed
at her face. “Ants.” He pinched one between his fingers and held it out for her inspection.
“Yuck.” They were having dinner in her scalp. “Ow! They’re in my hair.”
Jake picked the insects out of her hair while she swept them from her neck, back, and chest. Eventually they eradicated the pests and the pain stopped. Chanel scratched at the bumps that surfaced. Jake’s hands were tangled in her hair. The touch would’ve been intimate if she wasn’t so itchy. He stared at her with a slightly opened mouth.
“What?” she asked.
“You’re covered in red bumps.”
“Perfect.” She groaned inside. He looked amazing, and she was a soggy, bumpy mess.
“Will this be funny in the morning?” he asked, his eyes full of hope.
“Um, maybe. A few years from now we might be laughing like hyenas.”
He kicked at a rock. It plopped into the stream. “Maybe we should scrap the fishing idea, put your pretty clothes back on, and go into town.” He managed a tight grin. “Although I’d hate for you to take off that shirt.”
She looked down. Great. Now the shirt was tight and wet. “No. This is wonderful. I look like a drowned rat with chicken pox.” She hated to think what her face looked like. Was her waterproof mascara working, or were there dark streaks running down her face? She’d worked so hard to look good tonight, and now Jake probably wanted to take her back to the center and never take her out again.
His smile grew. “It is extremely attractive. Well, the shirt at least.”
“Maybe you should just throw a paper sack over my face.”
“Maybe.”
Chanel smacked him in the shoulder.
“Ouch.” He rubbed his arm.
“Just wanted you to feel the pain as well.”
He scooped her into his arms again. She laughed. “No. Please not the water.”
Jake grinned, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “You’re the one who’s smacking me around.” He carried her to his truck.
“What are you doing?” She leaned against his muscular chest. The date may be over, but at least she could enjoy his touch for a moment.
Jake didn’t say anything.
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