“Sorry I broke your record.”
“Are you always so. . .sarcastic?”
She hadn’t meant to be. Not this time. Not with the man who was offering a chance at some real breathing room. She gave him a rueful grimace. “I prefer to think of it as smart-ass.” She hesitated, then admitted, “It’s a defense mechanism. When I’m nervous. Or scared.”
“I figured.”
“You figure a lot.”
“Occupational hazard.”
She couldn’t help it, she smiled. After a second or two when he seemed stunned, he slowly smiled back. And it was a good one, warm, genuine, and it made that feeling of longing well up in her again. She wanted to run. The problem was, she didn’t want to run away. And that scared her.
“Come on, try one of those meals. It might be enough to make up your mind.” This time he grinned, and it nearly took her breath away. “One way or another.”
And the next thing she knew she was out of his truck and following him inside.
*
“Truett John Mahan, have you lost your mind?”
“Always a possibility.” True said it with a shrug as his sister stared at him.
“You don’t know who she is. You don’t know where she’s from. You don’t know what she’s done. You don’t even know her last name!”
Zee was normally a very kind, generous and tolerant person. Except when it came to someone who might hurt those she cared about. Then she would protect with all the fierceness of a lioness.
“You’re right, about all that,” he said, pacing the den she had converted into an office in her side of the house. “What I do know is she’s in trouble.”
“And maybe rightfully so,” Zee pointed out. Funny how she looked like their mother when she got upset, that worry line between her eyebrows, the concern in the big blue eyes that were also like their mother’s.
“She says she didn’t break the law. Didn’t hurt anyone. In fact, I think she’s on the run to protect someone.”
“And you believe her? Just like that? Did you even do a search on her?”
He lifted a brow at her. “On the name Hope? Good luck with that.”
“True—”
He held up a hand to stop her. “There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already thought.”
“Then why do you want to do this? Why is it so important for you to help this woman?”
He let out a long breath, because he wasn’t sure he had an answer to that, not a full one. So he gave her what he did have. “I just keep wondering where Deck would be if someone hadn’t helped him along the way.”
That, as little else could, put an end to Zee’s protestations. He knew she was a bit in awe of their most famous resident, and the client who was the cornerstone of this little business they’d carved out. They knew some of his history now—True doubted anyone but Kelsey knew it all—and even the bit they knew was enough to make them both shudder. And look at their own past in a different light.
“All right,” she said with a sigh. “Just remember I’m the one who’s going to be working in the same room with her. If she turns out to be a thief or worse—”
“I’ll expect you to handle it like the Texan you are,” he said with a grin. “Besides, you need the help, and if she can get all that stuff sorted and scanned, it won’t be hanging over your head anymore.”
She grimaced. “I should have been doing it all along. But who thought you’d end up making a career out of. . .facilitating?”
His grin widened. “We’ve got to think of a better name for it. Facilitating sounds a bit. . .”
“Unsavory? Faintly illicit?”
“Hope said it sounds like I work for a mob boss.”
Zee’s eyebrows rose, but she was smiling. “Okay, maybe I can work with her.”
“It’ll only be for a couple weeks.”
“Then what?”
“Then I guess she’ll be on her way.”
“To where?”
True sighed. “I don’t think even she knows that.”
Chapter Eight
“You really are tiny.”
Hope blinked. That wasn’t what she’d expected Zee Mahan’s first words to her to be. But her next ones explained it. Sort of.
“Compared to him, who isn’t short?” she asked.
“Point taken,” Zee said, smiling for the first time since she’d come into the den turned office True had brought her to. “He is a tall drink of water, isn’t he?”
Any answer she could come up with to that was going to get her in trouble, so she went the safer route. “You’re no munchkin yourself.”
True’s sister looked surprised, then smiled. “No, but I see now why True thought you were just a kid in that jacket.”
“I’m not a kid.”
“No, you’re not. And annoyingly, that shirt looks better on you.”
“I doubt that,” Hope said, meaning it; Zee was one of those tall—apparently it ran in the family—willowy sorts she’d always envied. Her short, slightly shaggy hair was as dark as True’s, her eyes just as blue. Hope couldn’t help noticing how True’s easy, powerful way of moving translated to a smooth grace in his sister.
“There is one requirement if we’re going to work together.”
“Only one?”
“For now. I can’t share my office with someone whose last name I don’t know.”
The way Zee was looking at her told Hope she meant it. Her first instinct was to lie, to give the first fake name she could think of. But there was something about this woman—and her brother—that made a bald lie very difficult. So, praying that her name was common enough to be overlooked, she told the truth.
“Larson.”
For some reason Zee looked more relieved than anything. “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been. . .kind of foisted on you. I’m sure taking on a stranger wasn’t your plan.”
Zee shrugged. “This is True’s circus, so he gets the say.”
Hope glanced toward the doorway, where True stood just outside on his cell phone. “He has. . .quite a sense of responsibility.”
Hope looked back at Zee just as she said, rather pointedly, “Lucky for you.”
Hope didn’t even try to deny it. Instead she tried to turn the conversation to the matter at hand. “What do you need me to do?”
“Long term, get all that—” Zee gestured to a large box full of papers that sat on a table beside the desk against the room’s far wall “—sorted by date and project, then scanned and into some sort of logical filing system on my computer. Short term, you can go to the office supply store in town and pick up a box of file folders to hold it all in the mean time.”
“All right. Of course.” She shifted her weight, testing her leg. She felt a twinge from the bandaged cut, but if the store was in the downtown they’d come through, she thought she could make it.
Even as she thought it, True was back in the room and saying, “I’ve got to get out to the Mitchell site so Hope, you can ride with me. Save you walking on that leg.”
“Is it bothering you?” Zee asked, with every evidence of genuine concern.
“It’s much better, thanks,” Hope said quickly. Odd how apparently real caring made her nervous.
“Not what I asked, but all right. Get yourself oriented and set up today, and we’ll start digging in tomorrow.”
Hope saw her exchange a glance with her brother. Wondered just how crazy Zee thought he was, for doing this. But clearly she’d meant what she said, True got the say in this. Because. . .it was his circus.
Hope wondered if she was the wild creature to be tamed, or merely one of the clowns.
*
Whiskey River, Hope thought, was a different sort of town. It wasn’t so small that everybody could actually know everybody else, but it sure seemed as if they recognized most of the locals in passing. At least, judging by how they reacted to her unfamiliarity.
Of course, that only lasted until she mentioned s
he would be doing some work for True Mahan. His name was like the magic password in this place with the colorful past and unique present. It had become predictable and almost laughable, how everyone she met was cautious, until True’s name came up. Then suddenly she was treated like a welcome guest.
He had told her to take her time—and his truck, after he’d gotten out at the work site—picking up the supplies Zee needed and get to know her way around a bit, because they might need her to run another errand now and then. She had been reluctant. Her license from back there—she never dared think of it as home—was still valid, at least until her birthday this year. But she hadn’t driven in a while, and never anything that big. He’d laughed and said he kept the old thing precisely because he didn’t have to worry about the occasional ding, and handed her the keys. She wasn’t sure which affected her more, that laugh or his easy trust of a virtual stranger, watching her drive off a big chunk of his livelihood, especially if you counted all the tools in back.
But she did as he’d suggested. Although once in town she’d parked in a spot with no one else parked close by, and done her reconnoitering on foot. And she learned many things in the process. She already knew he was held in high esteem around town, from the way people accepted her simply because True had trusted her enough—God knows why—to hire her.
But she was also learning exactly what he meant by facilitator. The riverfront park that had languished half-finished until True had stepped in to ramrod it through to become the gathering place it now was. Repairs to the famous bridge, the site of the Founder’s Day barrel float, which had dragged on seemingly endlessly until True took on overseeing the project and got everybody to stop arguing and get the job done. And that year when they’d had the big flood, it had been True who had coordinated both the salvage efforts and most of the rebuilding. Quite a record for a guy who hadn’t quite hit the big three-oh yet.
She also now knew that he’d actually been born in San Antonio, although nobody in Whiskey River held that against him since his parents had only been there for the weekend at the time. Also that he’d been born early, and so had been a small baby. That one she’d nearly laughed at, thinking of his six-foot-one height and muscular build. The clerk in the office supply section of the rather quaint general store, who wore a name tag with Martha printed on it, had actually laughed, sharing the moment.
“Made up for that in a hurry, didn’t he? He’s a sweetheart,” the woman had said. “And he manned up when he had to, took care of his little sister when their parents were killed.”
That had stopped her in her tracks. “Killed?”
“Awful, it was. One of those multi-car pileups. Both their parents and the Templetons. It was a shock to all of us. True was off at college, only eighteen and just starting, but he came right back. Went to court and got custody of Zinnia, and stayed home to raise her.”
“He. . .quit school?”
“Not many these days who’d do that,” Martha said as she handed her the bag and receipt. “He was always going to go back, I think, but by the time his sister graduated high school he already had his own business going. And there,” the woman said with a widening smile, “is the woman who can tell you just how good True is at it.”
Hope turned to see a woman with long, blonde hair pulled back in a jaunty ponytail, sunglasses pushed up above her forehead, wearing faded jeans, cowboy boots that looked like they were used for their original purpose, and a snug, dark blue T-shirt with a logo for something called Whiskey River Rescue.
“Kelsey, this is—I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t catch your name?”
“I. . .” She couldn’t see a way out of it. Wished now she hadn’t given True and Zee her real name. “Hope,” she said, leaving it at that and hoping no one would press for more.
“This is Hope,” Martha said. “She’s new here, doing some office work for True.”
The blonde’s smile was instant and genuine. “Welcome to Whiskey River.”
“I. . .thank you.”
“Kelsey here’s our horse rescuer,” Martha said.
“Hence the shirt,” Kelsey said with a laugh.
“She’s also engaged to our most famous resident,” Martha barreled on.
“Once known as Crazy Joe around here,” Kelsey said, cutting the woman off smoothly. Martha colored slightly, and Hope wondered what that was about.
“I’ll get that cartridge for you,” Martha said, and bustled off as if glad for the excuse.
“She’s a bit of a gossip,” Kelsey said with a wry expression, “and sometimes it’s better to head her off at the pass, as it were.”
Hope couldn’t help herself. “Crazy Joe?”
Kelsey smiled, clearly taking no offense. “Joseph is his first name. Whiskey River’s a pretty open town, and he was a complete recluse. He was going through a very rough patch for a while.”
“I understand that,” Hope said, surprising herself with how much empathy she let into her voice.
The other woman studied her for a moment. “I think maybe you do.”
Hope felt awkward. It had been a very long time since she’d been in a position to simply talk with anyone, and it was more of a strain than she would have expected.
“She said you know True Mahan?”
Kelsey laughed. “Indeed I do. He got Deck through a very rough patch. But the poor man, first time I saw him I screamed at him. Went off half-cocked, as he says.”
She tried to picture this smiling, laughing woman being that angry. She couldn’t. “What on earth did he do?”
“He was bulldozing my house at the time.”
Hope drew back. “What?”
“He was working for my fiancé.”
Hope blinked. Frowned. “Wait. . .you mean those two things are connected?”
“Yep. That’s how I met Deck. AKA Crazy Joe. Since True was only following his orders, I went after his boss. Still in high dudgeon, I might add.”
“And now. . .you’re engaged?”
Kelsey nodded, her smile saying everything about how crazy in love she was. Hope felt a jab of pain, tried to stifle a longing for something she would never have. She didn’t think it showed, she’d gotten very good at masking her emotions. Or at least she thought she had, until she’d met True Mahan.
Martha was back with the toner cartridge Kelsey had apparently come to pick up. The clerk bagged it and handed it over.
“Speaking of True,” Kelsey said as they both walked toward the door, “we’re keeping him a bit busy right now, or he’d be doing this. That Crazy Joe guy wants a wedding pavilion designed and built by spring.”
Hope didn’t know which to react to, the woman’s obvious joy was almost overwhelming. So she said only “It sounds wonderful. Congratulations.”
They were outside now. The sky was grayer than it had been when she’d gone inside.
“Looks like we might actually get that rain they were predicting,” Kelsey said with a practiced look. “I’d better get back, I’ve got to make sure the hay that was just delivered is under cover.”
Hope’s gaze flicked to the logo on her T-shirt. “I never really thought about horses needing rescuing.”
“Wish I didn’t have to,” Kelsey said. “My greatest goal is my own obsolescence.” Hope smiled at that. “Come by sometime, I’ll introduce you to the crew. Do you ride?”
Hope was sure she probably looked a bit alarmed. “Um. . .no. Horses are beautiful, but. . .”
“Never too late to learn,” Kelsey said blithely.
She left with a cheerful wave. Hope watched her go. Strange, how much she had enjoyed that simple act, chatting with someone nice, with no ulterior motive, no real fear.
She started down the block she had yet to cover in her walking around the town square. As she walked she glanced over at the park, at the statue of the town’s founder, the Kelly it had originally been named for. She found it fascinating that his direct descendents still lived here, were as important in this town as he had been in this
place that had once been called Kelly’s Crossing.
She reached a real estate office, thinking she’d turn at the church up on the corner and head back to the truck. With that in the forefront of her mind she idly glanced in the window of the bookstore as she passed. Saw the latest Declan Bolt book on display, and a sign noting they still had a few signed copies.
It hit her then, belatedly. The image of what she’d seen in True’s copy of this very book.
True—
Never was a man more aptly named. With eternal thanks,
Deck
The pieces tumbled together. She turned, stared back in the direction Kelsey Blaine had gone. Declan Bolt? Here?
He got Deck through a very rough patch.
And now he was getting married. Hope felt an odd tightening in her throat at the thought that at least one person had found refuge here.
Whiskey River was indeed an interesting place.
Chapter Nine
Hope labeled the next folder, then slid the stack of documents into it. This one was for a clean up he’d arranged for a small ranch outside of town that was about to go on the market; apparently the ranch house and outbuildings were in okay shape, but a lot of clean up, painting, and weed clear out had been needed. The papers before that had been expanding a garage apparently for a horse trailer at someplace called Kelly’s Champs. And before that had been resurfacing a driveway at a place called, amusingly, the Hell’s Half Acre B & B. She was beginning to see what True had meant about jack of all trades.
No wonder he’d rolled out at the crack of dawn this morning. She’d been awake anyway, unable to quite accept that she could simply let go and sleep, in a real bed for the first time in recent memory, so she’d heard him leave. And lay there long after, still a little amazed that the man had simply left her here, in his home, apparently without a second thought. What was to stop her from finding a bunch of easily hawkable stuff and taking off?
Whiskey River Runaway (Whiskey River Series Book 2) Page 5