“Yup. Went with them on one of those organized tours they were always taking, too. Saw some cool places most tourists don’t get to see.”
“I wish I could’ve gone on one. Gramps said he’d take me when I turned thirteen, but that’s when Mom left Dad, and I never got to come back for any more summers.”
He steered her around his truck in the driveway. “Yeah, come to think of it, life got pretty quiet around here without you girls.”
She swatted him.
He let out an oomph and clutched his gut.
“Very funny.”
He smiled to himself and mentally ticked off two of his concussion tests. Nothing wrong with Bec’s memory or her aim.
He led her to the side of the house and pulled out his key. “Feel like a steak?”
“Yuck.”
“You’re kidding? You still prefer a burger to steak?”
“Yup.”
He pushed open the door, flicked on the light and motioned her in ahead of him. “What a cheap date. Guys must love you.”
She squirmed past him into the kitchen, then hesitated, her gaze flagging about, pausing briefly on his Home Is Where the Heart Is plaque, then stealing his way. She looked more uneasy than a suspect in custody.
But unlike with his suspects, he felt strangely sad seeing her this way. “Have a seat at the table while I light the barbecue.” He returned a moment later to find her nuzzling his three-legged pooch.
She spluttered at its exuberant kisses and wiped off the slobber with the back of her hand. “What’s his name?”
“Tripod.”
“I should have guessed. He moves amazingly quick for having only three legs.”
Josh filled Tripod’s dish, and the pooch demonstrated just how quick. “While the barbecue heats up, let’s take a look at this bump of yours.”
She finger combed her hair as if only just realizing how messy it was.
He resisted the urge to tease. Her honey-brown corkscrew curls had always poked out every which way and been peppered with hay or leaves or twigs, depending on where she’d last played.
Dropping her hand, she fidgeted under his perusal. “That bad, huh?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t have to.”
He didn’t bother to hide his grin. “Show me where you got hit.”
She leaned forward and pointed to the back of her head.
He palpated the area. Her hair was incredibly soft and smelled faintly like citrus. “That’s some goose egg.” He reached into his catchall drawer and pulled out a penlight. “Look at me.”
Her shimmering brown eyes turned to him, framed by the longest lashes he’d ever seen. Natural, too.
Her head tilted. “You planning to do something with that light?”
“Patience,” he muttered at being caught staring. He flicked the penlight on and flashed it across each eye. “They look good. Equal and reactive.”
“Why, thank you, Josh,” she drawled, batting those long lashes. “That’s the most romantic thing a man’s ever said about my eyes.”
“What?” He blinked, glimpsed her smirk and gave her a nudge. “You’re cute, Bec.” He tossed the penlight back into the drawer. “Now, stand up, arms out from your sides, and touch each hand to your nose.”
She stood and obeyed his directions effortlessly.
“Okay, take a seat.” He opened the cupboard next to the sink and grabbed a glass and the bottle of painkillers. He tipped two from the bottle, filled the glass with water and handed them to Bec. “Take these, and if you want, you can lie down on the sofa until supper’s ready.”
She planted her palms on the table and pushed to her feet. “I can’t let you cook alone,” she protested, then immediately clutched the side of her head.
“As stubborn as ever, I see.” He scooped her into his arms and gently lowered her onto the sofa. “Rest. That’s an order.”
He turned on his heel and did his best to ignore the scent that lingered on his shirt, as it had after their embrace at the funeral home. “I’ll get those burgers grilling.”
She didn’t argue, which worried him. She’d always been a tough kid. Unless she’d changed dramatically in the past fifteen years, whoever had walloped the back of her head had done a serious number on her. Maybe he should ask his sister to come by after her shift at the hospital and check Bec over. It’d be easier than convincing Bec to go there.
He texted Anne a request to stop by and then pulled out the fixings for a decent supper. Sliced potatoes and onions. Peppers, carrots and zucchini for grilling. He dug through the freezer and unburied a couple of burgers that looked more like frozen hockey pucks. Forget it. She could learn to appreciate the good stuff. He tossed the burgers back into the freezer and pulled out a couple of filet mignons.
An hour later, he’d just set the last dish on the table when she meandered to the doorway, rubbing her eyes.
“Dinner is served.” He pulled out a chair and waited for her to take a seat. To humor her, he’d put her steak on a hamburger bun and brought out the mustard and ketchup. If she noticed the ruse, she didn’t comment.
He took the seat opposite her. “How do you feel now?”
“Hungry. This smells amazing.”
He opted to let her nonanswer go. For now. His sister would be there soon enough. He reached across the table and clasped Bec’s hand.
Her eyes widened.
“Let’s pray,” he said quickly, not sure what to make of her reaction. He bowed his head. “Lord, we pray for Your healing touch on Bec and that You’ll comfort her in her grief. Thank You for giving her a safe journey here and for this food and time together. Amen.” When Josh lifted his gaze, she was still staring at him, moisture pooling in her eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“No one’s prayed for me like that since...Gran and Gramps. I...guess I’d forgotten how nice it felt.”
His throat tightened. She’d still have them if only... He gave her hand a warm squeeze. “Let’s eat.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes, then Bec set down her “burger” and reached for her fork. “What happened to the huge trailer Gramps usually kept the car in?”
“That’s over at Pete’s Garage. Your grandfather had some trouble with the car during the last tour he and your Gran took, so while we worked on finding the problem, he sent in the trailer to have the bearings repacked. I can give Pete a call. Ask him to bring it by.”
“I’m just amazed how clean the car stayed sitting out like that. There wasn’t a bird dropping on it.”
A steak morsel lodged in Josh’s throat. He coughed, swallowed hard. “You mean you didn’t pull off the canvas cover?”
“No.”
He set down his knife and fork. He’d just assumed... He clenched his fist. A rookie mistake. After the front-page article the newspaper had run last week about the Graws, every would-be thief in three counties would’ve pegged the whole place as easy pickings until the new owner arrived. But if her assailant had come for the car...
“Are you telling me that Gramps didn’t leave it uncovered?”
Josh surged to his feet and paced to the window that overlooked the rear of the Graw property. Her arrival wouldn’t deter a car thief. He’d have to keep a close watch on the place.
And pray this guy didn’t return when Bec was home alone.
* * *
Becki shrank into the corner of Josh’s couch as he debated with his nurse sister whether she needed to see a doctor.
Even dressed in faded jeans and a black T-shirt, his furrowed brow radiating concern, he exuded a powerful presence. Not to mention he’d grown more handsome than ever. His dark hair no longer curled at his temple the way she remembered, but the trimmed look and
broader shoulders reflected a strength and integrity that had clearly deepened in the past fifteen years.
How cruel could God be to let Joshua Rayne find her cowering in the barn as if she was still a twelve-year-old kid?
The kid who’d had a hopeless crush on him—a sixteen-year-old boy who’d had eyes only for her gorgeous older sister.
Not that she’d ever admit to having a crush. Bad enough that she’d tumbled into his arms at the funeral.
Never mind that she’d been a wreck and that when Josh had reached for her hand in the reception line, she’d known, without stopping to think, that he understood her sorrow.
She hugged a sofa pillow to her chest. He hadn’t hesitated a second before wrapping her in his arms, which should’ve been her first clue that he was still playing the protective big brother. At the time, she’d barely registered his whispered reassurances. The grief had been too raw. But now...
She pushed the pillow away. She did not want him thinking she was a helpless female who couldn’t take care of herself.
“Can you recite the months of the year in reverse order for me?” his sister asked.
Becki did, then turned back to Josh. “See. I’m fine.”
“Concussions can suddenly take a turn for the worse,” he argued, holding out his hand for her car keys. “Can’t they, Anne?”
“She’s agreed to stay already!” Anne snatched up Becki’s car keys and slapped them into Josh’s hand. “Go get her suitcase so we can finish the tests in peace.” Her eyes were twinkling when she turned back to Becki. “Just humor him for me, okay? I’m getting a free oil change out of the deal.”
“No way! He bribed you to stay the night?”
Anne giggled. “Not exactly. I offered...in exchange for the oil change. He would’ve done it anyway, but this way we set his mind at ease about your condition and I don’t have to drive the car back until morning.”
“What about your husband? Won’t he mind if you don’t come home?”
“Not married.”
“But...” Becki pointed to the wedding band on Anne’s finger.
Anne splayed her fingers and smirked. “That’s to keep the doctors and patients from hitting on me.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Now, stand on one foot, hands on hips, eyes closed, until I say stop.”
Becki did as she was told. “I’m surprised Josh hasn’t married yet. When I was here as a kid, there was no shortage of girls mooning over him.” Her younger self included, but Anne didn’t need to know that.
“Yeah, well. He never got over being rejected in favor of life in the big city.”
Was Anne talking about Becki’s sister? He’d had it bad for her that last summer they were here, and Sarah hadn’t discouraged him, even though she was two years older.
“He escaped to the military after that,” Anne went on. “Hasn’t dated much since coming back. The pickings are slim around here, and he won’t dare date a wannabe city girl.”
Considering how the city had changed Sarah, Josh was probably smart to hold out for a country girl.
Anne jotted something on her notepad. “Now tell me all the words you can remember from that list I gave you earlier.”
Becki repeated them all. “Now do you believe me?”
“How’s your headache? Any worse? Feeling dizzy?”
“It still hurts, but no and no.”
“All right, yes, I think you’ll be fine, but don’t tell Josh. It’s nice to see him fretting over someone else for a change.”
“What do you mean?”
“Um.” She bit her lip and glanced toward the door as if he might burst through at any moment. “He’d kill me if I told you.”
“We wouldn’t want that,” Becki drawled, remembering how often her own sister used to preface her secrets with a similar remark. How she missed those days.
“Maybe you could help him stop being so hard on himself,” Anne whispered.
“Me?” Becki caught one of her curls, tugging it straight. “Why would he listen to me?”
Becki didn’t know what to make of the expression that flitted across Anne’s face. Perhaps if she knew her better, but she’d never really met her before today. She’d heard Josh had an older sister, but she’d never been around.
Anne leaned forward and clasped Becki’s hand the same way she had when she’d first arrived and expressed her condolences. “Josh feels responsible for your grandparents’ deaths.”
Becki stiffened.
Anne must have felt it, because she quickly added, “He’s not. But your grandfather had complained the day before he died about having a headache, and Josh thinks he should have suspected a carbon-monoxide leak. As if people never get headaches for any other reason!”
Numbness crept over Becki’s limbs. “Gramps never got headaches.”
“Please don’t remind Josh. He’s already beating himself up enough over not questioning that. I mean, your grandparents had a carbon-monoxide detector. And it was the middle of summer. Whoever heard of a hot-water tank causing carbon monoxide?”
The screen door slammed shut, and Josh strode into the room.
Becki and Anne sprang apart, but Josh didn’t seem to notice. He dropped her suitcase at her feet and waved a note in front of her face. “When did you get this?”
She caught his arm long enough to get a look at the paper. “It was in the mailbox when I got here.” She squared her jaw and fought to keep her tone even. “Courtesy of my sister.”
He frowned. “Why would she say you don’t belong here?”
“Because if I sell, she thinks she’ll get more money.”
Anne picked up the envelope that had fluttered to the floor. “Where does your sister live?”
“Toronto.”
Anne flapped the envelope against her palm. “The stamp on this envelope was never canceled. It looks like someone hand delivered it.”
Josh took the envelope from her. “You’re right.” He passed it to Becki.
So Sarah hadn’t been lying. Unless... “She could’ve asked someone to put it in the mailbox for her.”
“Who else knew you were moving in today?”
“I don’t know.” Becki rubbed her worsening headache. “My boss, my roommate, my mom.”
“No one from around here?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Could be those developers,” Anne chimed in.
“What developers?”
Josh blew out a breath and paced. “A conglomerate of investors who want to see our farmland turned into subdivisions and shopping malls.” His scathing tone told her exactly what he thought about their plans. “Have they approached you with an offer to buy?”
“No!” Becki folded her arms over her chest. “Even if they had, I wouldn’t sell to them.”
Josh nodded, his expression grim. “The trouble is you couldn’t trust anyone who offered to buy the place not to turn around and pass it on to the developers for a tidy commission.”
“Well, like I told my sister, I’m here to stay.” Sarah had hated being dumped here every summer. Unlike her big sister, Becki didn’t have a life to speak of in the city, and she wouldn’t miss it in the least. She happened to like the slower pace of rural living. Maybe she’d even start writing again in her spare time.
“Where will you work?” Anne asked.
“Huh?” Becki shook her sister’s voice from her head and focused on Anne. “I haven’t figured that out yet. But I’m sure I can find something before my savings run out.”
Anne let out a sigh. “Not many new jobs around since the economic downturn.”
“Never mind that for now.” Josh sat beside Becki on the sofa, and her heart jumped at the touch of his knee. “Who else might have sent this not
e?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean...who didn’t want you moving here badly enough to attack you?”
She dug her fingers into the seat cushion. “You think the note and incident in the barn are connected?”
Obviously he did. Which meant whoever was slinking around the property had been expecting her.
TWO
What would Sarah say if she saw her now, sleeping under Josh’s roof?
Well, trying to sleep. Becki flopped over in the unfamiliar bed. Shafts of moonlight shone through the edges of the drapes, highlighting a pair of 4-H trophies perched on the bookcase of Josh’s old bedroom.
Her sister would probably feel bad to learn that Josh never got over her. That is...if Sarah was who Anne had meant. Maybe not, since he’d still had a couple of years of high school left after their last summer visit. But he’d sure had it bad for her then.
Becki rolled over and punched the pillow. She didn’t want to think of Josh mooning over her sister, especially considering how unreasonable Sarah had been acting lately. Despite her denials, she must’ve sent that note. Who else?
The two of them were the only living relatives.
Josh was blowing the whole situation way out of proportion. The note and prowler couldn’t be connected. She’d probably just surprised a couple of teens who were afraid of getting caught fooling around in Gramps’s car. As a cop Josh must see that sort of thing all the time.
But then why was he getting so worked up?
Josh feels responsible for your grandparents’ deaths.
Becki’s heart clenched. That had to be why Josh wasn’t taking any chances.
If only he’d...
She squashed the wishful thinking. If she let her thoughts go there, she’d never get to sleep.
Closing her eyes, she tried not to think at all. An hour later, she was still awake.
A glass of milk might help. She listened for sounds of Anne and Josh still milling about. Hearing none, she pulled on her bathrobe and stole downstairs.
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