“What brought you here to Rambling Rose?”
Teas couldn’t really be reading Jay’s mind, but he showed an annoyingly uncanny sense of timing.
“My grandmother.” Jay’s words were true. They just weren’t exactly the truth. But since that had nothing to do with this situation, Jay still intended on keeping silent on the matter.
In fact, the only time he’d come close to telling someone the truth had been in January. When he’d been staring down into the otherworldly blue eyes of Arabella Fortune. Strangely enough, he’d wanted her to know all about him. Everything.
The good. And the bad.
“Your grandmother. Speaking of.” The detective’s voice was like a boulder dropping in the center of the image in Jay’s mind, sending it rippling away. The man made a point of looking at the yellow notepad he kept to one side of him as if he didn’t want Jay seeing what had been written on it. “You’re living with her. Sweet deal. Sponging off an elderly woman.”
Jay snorted. “Have you lived in Rambling Rose a long time?”
The pencil eraser missed a beat. “Long enough.”
“Then you’ve probably met her. And if you’ve met her, you ought to know nobody sponges off Louella O’Brien.” Jay forced a smile. “Elderly or not, she sells her homemade jam every weekend out at Mariana’s Market. Rain or shine.” Much to his mother’s chagrin. Sandra Cross wanted Louella to move to Houston. To give up the ranch—it hadn’t been a working ranch since Jay’s grandfather died twenty years ago—and move closer to her and Jay’s dad. To give up her gardens and her jam business and behave the way she figured a nearly ninety-year-old woman ought to behave.
Not surprisingly, Louella was having none of it. With Jay living out at the ranch, his mother had given the subject a rest. At least with Louella. Unfortunately for him, instead of calling her mother every day to nag her about moving, Jay’s mother now called him.
“Are you talking about Lou’s Luscious Jams?” The detective looked surprised. “My wife buys it every chance she gets. She says if she doesn’t get out to the flea market early enough, everything’s sold out in the first hour and she ends up having to settle for some other seller out there.”
“Luscious Jams are my grandmother’s.” In fact, he could stand some of it right now, along with his grandmother’s homemade bread. He was starving. He spread his palms once again. “You said this was voluntary. I’ve answered all of your questions a dozen times over. So unless you’re going to tell me I can’t, I’ll be leaving now.” He put words to action and stood.
The detective didn’t try to stop him, which was a relief. Jay didn’t particularly relish the idea of having to call a lawyer. One, it would upset his grandmother. Two, it would necessitate being more forthcoming with the lawyer than he had been with this well-intentioned but misguided cop. And even though a lawyer would have a duty for confidentiality, these days, Jay wasn’t taking any chances.
He’d closed the door on the man he’d been and he didn’t want it opening up again.
Teas didn’t rise, though he did let his chair go back down onto all fours. “Yeah, you can go, Mr. Cross,” he said in a smooth way that had probably put the fear of God in any number of suspects. He bounced his pencil eraser a few more times. “Just don’t leave town.”
After a decade spent in the City of Angels, Jay had acquired his own smooth smile. “I have no intention of going anywhere.” He scooped up his cowboy hat from the corner of the table and jammed it on his head. He flicked the brim, mockingly, he had to admit, and walked out of the stifling room.
The police department took up only a portion of the building that also housed the municipal courts and the motor vehicle department. Given Rambling Rose’s affordability and proximity to larger cities like Jay’s hometown of Houston, Rambling Rose had become quite the boutique city since Jay had been a kid. But he could still remember visiting the building with his grandpa whenever he was staying with Louella and Herbert O’Brien because Herb’s penchant for collecting parking tickets had been legend.
Jay followed the tiled corridor until he reached the public lobby that all of the departments held in common and checked his motion to pull his sunglasses out of his pocket.
He didn’t wear sunglasses anymore. Ergo the cowboy hat.
At first, it had seemed like a stupid thing. More symbolic than anything.
He’d gotten rid of everything that smacked of his old life after his old life had gotten rid of him.
Girlfriend.
Manager.
Career.
His trademark shades had gone in the trash the same day he’d shaved his beard and cut his hair short.
Now, he was glad he’d changed his appearance. His return to good ol’ boy Jay Cross was complete.
Nobody in Rambling Rose had a reason to connect him with his old life. And if that left him with a few missing spots in his history as far as Detective Teas was concerned, Jay wasn’t going to worry about it.
He wasn’t responsible for the problems that had befallen Hotel Fortune, which meant there was no way that Teas could prove otherwise. Pure and simple.
The-late afternoon sun was shafting through the glass entry doors. Another thing that hadn’t changed since Jay was a kid. You’d have thought they’d have at least tinted the glass by now. But no. The sun still streamed in, turning the lobby into a sauna that no amount of air-conditioning could combat.
He tugged the brim of his cowboy hat down farther against the glare and pushed through the door, quickly sidestepping the person who was hurrying to get inside.
“Sorry,” a breathless voice said from behind a tall vase of flowers. “You’re the second person I’ve bumped into.”
Jay chuckled and held the door wider. “Not surprised. Those things are taller than you.” He glanced around the enormous bouquet and felt the impact straight to his solar plexus.
Her hair was mostly hidden by the ball cap she wore, but the long ponytail hanging out the back was distinctively red. And though her eyes were hidden behind a pair of reflective aviator-style sunglasses, he knew they’d be distinctively blue.
Her smile widened. “Jay!” Juggling her gigantic burden, she whipped off her sunglasses.
And sure enough, Arabella Fortune’s aquamarine eyes were exactly how he remembered.
It was his own damned luck that Teas was heading directly for them.
Suddenly, he felt cornered. Hemmed in by a beautiful young woman on one side and a determined cop on the other. His frustration coalesced. “What are you doing here?”
Her wide smile faltered, making him feel like a total ass.
“Delivering flowers,” she said, stating the obvious. “What are you doing here?”
Even though he’d gotten good at pretending the last decade of his life had never occurred, he ought to have been quicker with a response.
Instead, he saw Teas now just a few feet away.
He saw the POLICE sign with the big arrow right behind him.
And he could imagine the horror in Arabella’s eyes when she found out he was Rambling Rose’s latest “person of interest.”
“Leaving,” he said abruptly, and backed the rest of the way out the door.
* * *
Arabella stared after Jay. Sudden tears burned deep behind her eyes.
I think you should know that...
...I’m just not that into you.
“Can I help you?”
Swamped in disappointment, Arabella let the glass door swing closed. She blinked hard before looking up at the tall man who’d spoken. He wasn’t wearing a uniform but he had a police badge clipped to his belt. “I’m sorry?”
“I recognize Petunia’s Posies when I see them.” The officer had a kind look in his eyes and he gestured slightly at the enormous bouquet. “Usually it’s the Bellamy boy who delivers them.”
&
nbsp; If she needed proof that Rambling Rose was a small town compared to what she was used to, this was it. He probably knew Jay Cross as well. Certainly better than she did.
Or ever would.
The cop was still waiting.
“I’m filling in for Todd.” She knew the kid only by name. “Temporarily. I understand he’s on vacation for a few weeks.”
“Oh, right.” He nodded. “Big Disneyland trip. I remember now. Usually Petunia gets her dad to pinch-hit when Todd is gone.”
She wasn’t sure what sort of response he expected to that, so she just shrugged. “All I know is she needed someone for two weeks to fill in. I’m Arabella. New in town. And—” she glanced at the delivery slip that she still had tucked between two fingers “—looking for Mrs. Jones in Central Records.”
Happy anniversary, my beloved. Arabella herself had written the customer’s message on the card included with the flowers.
“Third floor. Back of the building,” he said immediately. “Fastest way is the stairs. Elevator takes forever.”
“Thank you, Officer—”
“Detective, actually. Detective Teas.” He walked away from her in a much nicer way than Jay had.
I think you should know that...
...you should never take flirting seriously.
She huffed out a breath and headed for the wide staircase situated in the center of the lobby. The detective hadn’t exaggerated about the elevator. There was a small line of people standing outside of it waiting for the bronze arrow to move on the old-fashioned dial above the door.
She could handle two flights of stairs to the third floor a lot easier than face the fact that she’d actually moved away from New York to find out exactly how Jay Cross had intended to finish that sentence.
It had been five months since that day.
Five months of weaving romantic fantasies about the words he hadn’t said.
She found Central Records and delivered the flowers to Mrs. Jones, who turned out to be a young woman who looked no older than Arabella. She had an enormous diamond ring on her finger and gushed over the flowers.
“How long have you been married?” Arabella was afraid her smile was wistful but the young Mrs. Jones didn’t seem to notice.
“One month today!”
As Arabella went back down the stairs again, she couldn’t help but wonder what sort of display the girl would be getting when she and her husband reached one year.
Arabella couldn’t even get a date.
And whose fault is that? Spending the last five months daydreaming about a man you met only once?
Thank heavens Arabella was smart enough not to have shared that particular fact with anyone. Her family already accused her of always having her head in the clouds. And her girlfriends were all too busy with their own love lives—ones that were much more fruitful than Arabella’s.
She’d lost count of how many bridal showers she’d been invited to lately. And being asked to be a bridesmaid for the fourth time in as many months had been just one time too many.
She’d been toying with the idea of returning to Rambling Rose almost as soon as her dad had dragged them away in January from Larkin’s birthday party. But when Arabella had gotten a wedding invitation from her nemesis, Tammy Jo Pendleton, something inside her had snapped. For one thing, it was a destination wedding. In Bali.
If the invitation had been heartfelt and genuine, Arabella would’ve felt regretful having to decline. There was no way she could afford to travel to Bali on her administrative assistant wages, which was something that Tammy Jo knew perfectly well. But the invitation had not been genuine. Tammy Jo had sent it for one simple reason—to drive home the fact that she was getting married to Hamilton Dawes.
Arabella might have dated Ham once upon a time but it was Tammy Jo who’d actually landed him. And now Tammy Jo was the one having the fairy-tale wedding with the most eligible bachelor in their town.
Arabella reached her car and climbed behind the wheel. She rolled down the windows to let the heat escape. Even though it had only taken a few minutes to make her last delivery of the day, the car interior had become stifling hot. Her car was old. It wasn’t equipped with air-conditioning. She probably should have sold it before she’d left New York and figured out a way to get around in Rambling Rose until she could afford to buy another vehicle. But she’d been determined to prove she wouldn’t be a burden on her brothers in Texas.
Because, despite what her brothers and parents thought, just because she had a head full of dreams didn’t mean she had no common sense or pride.
And just what kind of common sense did it show to fantasize about Jay Cross all these months?
She twisted the rearview mirror slightly until she saw her own reflection. “Shut up,” she muttered.
For once, the mocking voice inside her head obediently went silent and she readjusted the mirror and turned the key.
The engine tried to turn over, but didn’t.
The car had some power because the radio came on playing the same song that had been on the radio incessantly for months now. On the long drive from New York, every time she caught a radio signal as she drove from town to town, it had been an obvious staple.
“‘Givin’ it all up,’” she muttered along with the singer’s deep voice before she snapped off the radio. She didn’t even listen to country music but the song had still become an earworm, sticking inside her head for hours at a time. “Right now I’d like to give it all up and be back home in New York.”
But saying the words was enough for her to know that wasn’t strictly true. She was twenty-five years old and it was time that she began doing something with her life. Even if that meant moving to Texas like half her brothers had done.
“All right, car. Don’t let me down now.” Eyes closed as if that might influence the outcome, she turned the key again.
Silence reigned.
She pulled out the key with a sigh and leaned back in the seat. She tossed aside her ball cap and swiped her sleeve over her sweaty forehead.
She loathed having to call Brady. Not that her brother wouldn’t help. Any one of them would. But Adam and Kane both were busy with their own lives. Which was why Arabella had first broached the subject of moving to Rambling Rose with Brady. He’d already gone to work for the Hotel Fortune as concierge at that point and she’d had the idea that if she helped take care of the twins for him, not only would she be helping him, but also she could get by without having to pay him rent until she got herself established. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t have tried to charge her rent anyway, but he also would have totally lorded it over her that he was taking care of her.
Only in the time since then, Brady had fallen for the twins’ nanny, Harper Radcliffe.
Which meant that now, instead of moving in with her brother and his rambunctious twins, she was imposing on the engaged couple and their rambunctious twins. They even had a dog now. All that remained was the official I do’s.
They never said there wasn’t really room for Arabella, but that didn’t mean there was.
Harper was lovely and brilliant with the boys and they adored her. Once she and Brady married, Tyler and Toby would have a new mother to care for them. They certainly didn’t need Arabella’s help now.
Pity party, much?
This time Arabella didn’t try to shut up the voice.
She tightened her ponytail, pulled on her ball cap again and tried the key one more time with no more success than before.
Not even the radio turned on.
Nor could she roll up the power windows.
She glanced around the interior of the car. Was there anything she was afraid of being stolen, anyway?
Plus, in a town like Rambling Rose, was there even any danger of leaving a car open like this? She was parked right outside the police station, after all.
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She grabbed the book bag that was both a holdall and purse and even though she knew it was pointless, she pushed down the door lock after she got out of the car.
She hefted the long strap crosswise over her shoulder and looked up and down the street.
She’d been in town for only a week, but thanks to Petunia’s brisk floral business, Arabella already had a good lay of the land and she set off for Provisions. Adam managed the restaurant, but he and Laurel had gone to Houston with Larkin for one of his doctor’s appointments. She knew they wouldn’t be back yet.
Which meant Arabella could at least satisfy the hollowness in her stomach in privacy while she dealt with her car.
I think you should know that...
...I can be a rude jerk.
She picked up her pace and was breathless when she reached the cool interior of Provisions.
There were people waiting for a table but she bypassed them for one of the few empty seats at the bar. She ordered an iced tea when the bartender came over, then pulled her cell phone out of the book bag before plopping it on the floor.
She called the flower shop first to let Petunia know that she’d finished her deliveries for the day. She did not, however, tell her boss about the dead car battery. One of the only requirements for the job was possession of an operable vehicle.
Just as Arabella finished her call, the bartender slid a tall glass in front of her. “Get you a menu?”
“That would be great, thanks.” She wrapped one hand around the blessedly cold beverage and took the offered menu with the other. “Say—” she quickly read the bartender’s name badge “—Evan. Any auto places in town you recommend where I can get a car battery?”
Evan reeled off three places. “But,” he added as he glanced at his wristwatch, “I think they all closed at five.”
Great. She smiled weakly. “Thanks.”
He smiled back far more cheerfully and headed off again.
She chugged half the contents of her glass while she verified that the auto supply stores were closed. Only one was still open, but it was all the way across town. She didn’t have a hope of finding a ride there in time.
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