by Abby Gaines
Jane wondered if Cat would miss the work—maybe that explained why she’d been glum for days now. Or maybe...
“Have you talked to Gabe?” Jane pressed Send on the email she’d been typing to a client and closed the lid of her laptop. “What if he wants you to stay? I’d love to have you in Denver, but if Gabe makes you—” She stopped. She’d been going to say happy. But although there were sparks aplenty between Cat and Gabe, neither of them looked happy together.
I was happy with Kyle and Daisy. She hadn’t realized just how precious those times had been until they’d ended. She blinked away tears.
Cat shook her head. “Things are way too complicated for that ever to be a possibility. It would take a miracle.”
“Presumably he believes in miracles,” Jane pointed out.
Cat wrinkled her nose. “Besides, you’re the one who’s walking away from what could be a good thing. I thought you liked Kyle.”
“Like him?” Jane said, her voice hollow.
“Uh-oh,” Cat said. “You’re telling me it’s more than that?”
Jane had never told anyone something that personal, not even Lissa. The exception was the confidences she’d shared with Kyle.
So now, she just nodded.
“You love him?” Cat supplied the words. “As in, the whole nine freakin’ yards?”
Jane nodded again. “Dumb, huh?”
“Not if he loves you back.” But Cat sounded doubtful.
“He doesn’t.”
“Did he tell you that? Or is it you being all prickly and defensive and putting up fences again?”
Jane’s gaze flew to her. “I don’t do that.”
Cat snorted. “Seriously, you should tell him you love him.”
“What’s the point? I don’t want a man who thinks my family is to blame for everything that goes wrong around here. I don’t want him looking sideways at me every time twenty bucks disappears from his wallet.”
“He wouldn’t do that,” Cat said. “He’s not that bad. As bosses go, he’s one of the better ones I’ve had.”
“Why are you trying to sell him to me?” Jane demanded. “He called you a blackmailer, Cat. I told him it wasn’t you and he flat-out refused to believe me.”
“Okay, so he’s not perfect. Neither are you.”
“I’m well aware. But I’m not going into a relationship as a second-class citizen, scared he’ll dump me at the next hurdle.” To her horror, she burst into tears.
“Jane, don’t.” Cat hesitated a moment, a victim of the Slater lack of relationship skills. Then she wrapped her arms awkwardly around Jane.
“I’m sorry,” Jane blubbered. “I love him and I love Daisy and I don’t want to leave him, but he doesn’t give a damn about me, all he cares about is his precious family and their reputation, and he’s so freakin’ judgmental....”
“I did it,” Cat said.
Jane lifted her face from her sister’s shoulder and took a long, wet sniff. “Did what?”
“Kyle’s right,” Cat said. “I’m the blackmailer.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
JANE WRENCHED HERSELF from Cat’s hold. “Is this a joke?”
“I texted a demand for five thousand dollars to Kyle,” Cat said. “I used a prepaid SIM card that I swapped into my phone when I sent the messages.”
“But you were with him when the first one came through.” Jane’s heart pounded, blood rushing in her ears.
“I used a scheduled SMS.”
“How many messages?” Jane demanded.
“Three. Two on the first day, one a week later.” Cat hooked her thumbs in her jeans, defiant. “What, you don’t believe me? Grow up, Jane.”
“I thought you’d grown up,” Jane said, dazed. “I thought you’d changed.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not as easy to leave your past behind as you may think.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Jane demanded, getting angry now. She’d defended Cat to Kyle, sworn she was innocent.
“I needed the money,” Cat said baldly.
“I knew it.” Bitterness clogged Jane’s throat. “The only reason you ever visit is when you need cash. And you have the nerve to say you wouldn’t expect me to support you in Denver—is that because you’ll be living off the proceeds of your extortion?”
“Don’t be dumb,” Cat said. “If I’d known you loved Kyle I’d never have pulled that stunt.”
“Too kind.”
“Shut up,” Cat said fiercely. “I told the truth about why I came to Pinyon Ridge—to connect with you, not for money. But a guy tracked me down after I got here...someone I’d helped with a couple of scams in Vegas. He wanted me to start up the same thing in Colorado with him, and when I said no, he said I owed him five grand, and I’d regret it if I didn’t pay up. I went into Frisco to meet him, hoping to talk some sense into him—”
“Your black eye!” Jane said, appalled.
“He punched me,” Cat said. “Told me it was a down payment on the beating he’d deal me if I didn’t find the money.”
“You should have come to me,” Jane said, feeling sick.
“You already thought I was after you for your money.” Somehow, Cat managed to sound humorous. “When you told me about Daisy, it seemed an easy way to make money off a guy who could afford it and who was a bit of a jerk anyway.”
“He’s not,” Jane said quickly.
Cat rolled her eyes.
“Did you consider going to the police?” Jane asked.
“Pete—the guy who hit me—threatened to give the cops an anonymous tip-off about my past crimes.” Cat shivered. “I’ve stayed mostly within the law, but not entirely. I have a record. But I’ve never been to jail, and I don’t want to start.”
Jane could see that.
“Anyway, even if I could talk the cops into going easy on me, word would get back to Charles Everson in two minutes. Which wouldn’t help you and Kyle any.”
Jane scrubbed her face with her hands. “What a mess.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Cat said. “I’m giving up the blackmail. I’ll text Kyle and tell him.”
“What about the guy, the one who punched you?”
“I can stay one step ahead of him.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Jane said. “There must be something else we can do. Between us, we can come up with an idea.”
“Right.” Cat sounded unconvinced.
“But first,” Jane said, “I owe Kyle an apology.”
* * *
JANE FOUND KYLE in his office at city hall.
“Jane!” He stood with such alacrity, for a moment she thought he was as pleased to see her as she was him. That he might walk around his desk and plant a kiss on her.
Barely two days since she’d last seen him, and already she missed him so much it hurt.
But his alacrity wore off fast—she almost saw the “Hang on a minute, this is the woman who keeps secrets from me” flash across his face.
“What can I do for you?” he asked formally.
“It’s what I can do for you—namely, apologize.” She barged ahead, before she had time to chicken out. “Cat is the blackmailer. Or she was. She’s calling it quits. But you were right.”
His jaw dropped. “She told you this?”
Jane nodded. She squared her shoulders, waiting for his “I told you so,” his entirely justified anti-Slater diatribe.
He came around the desk. “Jane, I’m so sorry.”
; She took a step backward. “Excuse me?”
He took her hands in his, and she wanted to hold on and never let go. “You had such faith in your sister—admirable. If misguided,” he added wryly. “You must have been so disappointed. I really am sorry.”
His sympathy was almost more than she could bear. “She was being threatened,” Jane said, not wanting him to think the worst of Cat. “That black eye—a guy hit her.”
Kyle tensed, his jaw jutted. “Who is he? Did you call the police?” He seemed ready to charge out and find the guy himself.
He’s a natural protector.
“He’s not here,” Jane assured him. “He’s some lowlife who came after her from Vegas. Anyway, Cat thought if she could buy him off, she could get back to going straight....” Jane realized how absurd that sounded and trailed off.
Kyle smiled faintly. “So why did she tell you? An attack of conscience?”
I told her I’m in love with you, and she wanted to help. “I guess so,” Jane said. She knuckled her eyes, a combination of fatigue and emotion fogging her vision. “I thought you’d be...I don’t know, smug. Pleased that you’re right.”
“I shouldn’t have said those things about your family in the first place. I’m sorry.”
“You were mostly right.”
He shook his head. But it was hard to deny the truth.
The silence grew awkward.
“I’d better go,” Jane said. “I have a few things to do before I leave town—I’m heading back to Denver Friday night.” If he had a sudden blinding realization that he wanted her to stay, now was the time to say it.
“Okay,” he said. “See you around.”
* * *
CHARLES HAD NEVER FELT SO miserable in his life. Since the after-church fiasco, Micki had barely spoken to him—she’d told him to sort out his priorities and let her know where she fit.
She was number one, blast it! He dug his spade into the lettuce bed on Thursday morning, narrowly avoiding a decapitation. She should know that. She knew how hard it had been for him to give in to the attraction between them....
Not to mention to kiss her. And to spend evening after evening with her over a delicious meal, with warm, heartfelt conversation... Yeah, who was he trying to kid? Nothing in his life had felt so right, not since he’d married Patti.
But in exposing their relationship to the glare of public scrutiny, they’d cast it in a light that seemed misguided at best. Tawdry and foolish at worst.
Everywhere he’d been this past week, people had stopped talking when they saw him, or exchanged amused glances with each other. One or two had even muttered criticisms.
Sweat ran down Charles’s forehead; he brushed it away from his eyes.
He still loved her—yes, it was love. But to make it work, he would have to forget his reputation, forget the esteem people held him in, and accept that though plenty of people would get over it, there would always be some who thought he was an old fool, and Micki some kind of gold digger. There would always be those who’d derive pleasure from speculating about whether he could satisfy a fit, young woman, and who’d wonder what she saw in him.
The thought of being the brunt of mockery turned his stomach. Charles took a break from his labor, resting on his spade, breathing heavily. Micki could do all that work without breaking a sweat, he suspected. He’d been crazy, thinking the age gap might not matter.
“Good morning, Charles.”
The greeting startled him. He turned to find Janelle Slater—Jane—and her sister on his front walk. He hadn’t even noticed their arrival.
“Ladies,” he said.
Jane half smiled. “Spoken without irony—well done.”
It was clearly a joke, but he wasn’t in the mood.
“What can I do for you?” he said sharply.
“Told you this was a dumb idea,” the younger one, Cat, said.
He pulled out his handkerchief and mopped his forehead. “It’s like a furnace out here. How about we go inside?”
Jane seemed to wait for Cat to decide. After a moment, Cat nodded.
“There’s tea in the fridge,” he said, gesturing to the kitchen. “I’ll go wash up and join you in a minute.”
In the en suite bathroom, off the room he’d been hoping to share with Micki one day, he looked at himself in the mirror. He wasn’t bad for his age. But he’d never compare with a younger man.
Yet Micki hadn’t wanted Kyle. Or Gabe. She’d wanted Charles. And he’d hurt her. What a mess.
The girls were sitting at his table, glasses of tea in front of them, and a third glass poured for him. Charles downed half of it before he sat.
“Okay,” he said brusquely. “What is it?” Was one of them pregnant to one of his sons? Hell, he hoped not. He didn’t want a Slater grandkid, that was for sure.
“We need your advice on a police-related matter,” Jane said.
That got his attention. Charles listened as they told him about some crook who wanted Cat to scam people right here in Charles’s town, on his patch, and how this man had hit her.
“Why are you telling me this?” Charles asked at the end.
“I want to know what my options are,” Cat said. “I seriously have gone straight, I’m trying to work things out with God—” Charles jolted in shock, and immediately felt ashamed “—and I want to put my past behind me once and for all.”
“If we can work this out, I’m happy to have Cat live with me in Denver,” Jane said.
“What if this guy finds her there?” Charles asked. “You’ve worked hard to get away from that kind of trouble, Jane.”
She blinked at the acknowledgment.
“Face it,” Charles said to Cat. “This guy’s going to track you down again. Maybe not right away, but next time he’s drunk and reminiscing and decides you’re the meal ticket he shouldn’t have let get away.”
“I realize that, and I won’t go to Jane’s if there’s any chance of that.” Cat spread her fingers on the dining table. “How do I stop him without going to jail myself?”
A part of him wanted to say, “You do the crime, you do the time.” Words he’d uttered to many lowlifes over the years. But then Jane put her hand over her sister’s on the table and the two exchanged a look of loving concern that made him bite his tongue.
“Give me a minute,” he said. He found himself enjoying the respite from his thoughts about Micki, the chance to think like a cop again.
“Do you have much on this guy?” he asked Cat.
“More than he has on me.” She fiddled with her necklace, a cheap thing of leather and beads. “His ex-girlfriend took out a restraining order against him.”
Charles perked up. “And then he hit you? Did you go to the hospital?” Where there would be a detailed record of her injuries.
Cat nodded.
“Good girl.” Charles pulled the notepad that sat by the phone toward him and grabbed a pen from the holder. “Tell me his name, and every conviction you think he’s had.”
That took about fifteen minutes and left Charles with several pages of notes to work with. He assured them he’d start making some inquiries today.
“I’ll call you when I know something. Don’t leave town,” he joked.
Both girls smiled, probably humoring him. Jane pushed her chair back and stood; Cat followed suit.
Charles saw them to the door, watched them walk out to the street. They had the same distinctive walk, though they d
idn’t resemble each other in any other way. Unusual girls. They were, he supposed, forming a family unit in their own way.
And family mattered most. He’d lived by that creed and it had served him well. So he should be able to forget Micki, get back to being a dad to his sons, a grandfather to Daisy.
Micki’s my family.
The thought grabbed him out of nowhere.
It wasn’t true.
But it could be true. If, say, she was his wife.
Charles’s heart thudded. He loved Micki, and it was the kind of love a man felt for the woman he wanted to live with and die with—with the dying part coming a long way down the road. If he married Micki, they wouldn’t be the most conventional couple—and so far, his only experience of marriage had been entirely conventional. But he was certain they’d be happy. Look at Cat and Jane—they weren’t a conventional family by anyone’s definition, but they’d committed to making it work.
I love Micki. I want to marry her. I need to get over my hang-ups. Then I need to convince her to take a chance on an old coot who nearly ruined everything.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
KYLE FOUND HIS FATHER sitting in his den—unusual for him on a sunny Thursday afternoon—and staring into the empty fireplace.
“Dad, are you okay?” Contemplative wasn’t a word regularly applied to his father.
“I will be,” Charles said grimly.
Kyle dropped into the armchair at right angles to his dad’s. “Are you still seeing Micki?”
He’d heard conflicting reports from people around town about the state of that relationship.
“I will be,” Charles said again. He ran a hand down his face. “Kyle, I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner, but it wasn’t an easy situation.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Kyle said. “There’s something I haven’t told you, and over the past few days I’ve realized that the more secret something is, the greater power it has to hurt.”
“Sounds like New Age hogwash to me,” Charles observed.
Kyle chuckled. Then he launched straight into what he’d come to say. The secret whose power he aimed to destroy.