Rescued by a Ranger

by Tanya Michaels

Chapter Three

  As soon as Eden rounded the corner to the ladies’ room, Zane turned to Officer Ben Torres. “I’m sorry.” The words caught unpleasantly in Zane’s throat. Having to apologize for his daughter stung. He wished others could see the sunny, sweet girl he remembered. “We’ve been lousy company tonight.”

  Ben, a Fredericksburg police officer, was recovering from an on-duty injury. When the two men had talked on Monday, Ben had mentioned that he had a doctor’s appointment on Wednesday and was scheduled to graduate from a wheelchair to crutches. Since he’d received the medical okay this morning, Zane had offered to buy him dinner in celebration. Ben had suggested the Torres family restaurant where he ate for free, assuring Zane it was the thought that counted. Zane hadn’t cared where they ate as long as it got him out of the house. The strained suppers at home, with Eden barely responding to questions about her new high school, were taking their toll. Especially after yesterday’s call from the guidance counselor that she was using her midsemester move as an excuse for not doing homework, claiming that she was still trying to catch up and that her workload was daunting. Zane knew his daughter, a former honors student, was capable of far more when she applied herself. He was angry, but he hadn’t meant to inflict their prickly relationship on innocent bystanders.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Ben said. “I’m growing accustomed to lousy company. My brother’s been living with me since he and his wife separated. He was always a serious guy, but now he’s downright grim. Next to him, Eden’s full of bubbly cheer.”

  “She used to be. There was a time...” Zane trailed off uncomfortably, not in the habit of discussing personal matters.

  Recalling Eden’s childhood exuberance reminded him of the spirited girl who’d accosted him and Dolly over the weekend. Instinct told him Belle Hunt didn’t have a father in the immediate picture. For one thing, Kelsey had said she was leaving the care of her house to a lady, not a family. Had Alexandra Hunt needed a place to get back on her feet after her marriage fell apart? He silently wished her luck—single parenting wasn’t for wimps.

  He ground his teeth. “Do you think all children of divorced parents turn bitter?”

  “Divorce is tough, but you’re oversimplifying,” Ben chided. “Don’t you think it’s difficult for a teen to change schools midyear and make new friends no matter what her parents’ marital status? Besides, moodiness is normal for teenage girls. I grew up with a sister, remember?” He contorted his face into a comical mask of horror.

  “Oh, please. Grace is one of the most hospitable people I’ve ever met!”

  The three Torres siblings jointly owned The Twisted Jalapeño, but Chef Grace Torres was the one who ran the restaurant.

  Ben rolled his eyes. “Sure, she’s the soul of hospitality now, as an adult trying to drum up repeat business for this place, but you should have seen her at fourteen! Maybe what Eden needs is a woman who can relate to her. Too bad your last date was back when dinosaurs were leaving those footprints in the Hondo Creek bed.”

  “I haven’t noticed anyone special in your life, either,” Zane grumbled. Although he had noticed Ben sneaking surreptitious glances toward Amy Winthrop, the bartender. “Speaking of women, do you know anything about Alex Hunt? She’s living next to me temporarily, house-sitting for Kelsey and Dave Comer.”

  “We should ask Grace.” Ben nodded at his crutches. “I haven’t exactly been man about town lately. Thank God the festival starts this weekend. I’m going stir-crazy.”

  Frederick-Fest was a weeklong annual tradition that attracted tourists from all over the state and vendors from all over the country. Zane would be working some shifts to assist with security and crowd control.

  “Will you be mobile enough to volunteer at the festival?” Zane asked.

  “Not in my usual capacity, but I can work the first aid booth when other people need a lunch break. And Amy and I are going to sit at a table handing out promotional stuff for the restaurant.”

  “Ah.” Zane smirked. “The lovely Amy.”

  “Who’s Amy?”

  Both men started as Eden slid back into her chair. Apparently she’d killed as much time as she possibly could in the restroom by braiding her blond hair and applying far too much makeup.

  Zane did a double take. “Any particular reason you’re trying to make yourself look like a raccoon?”

  Slashes of red appeared on her cheeks, and he regretted his words. He didn’t approve of the pound of cosmetics she’d slathered on her face, but he shouldn’t embarrass her in front of Ben. He was grateful when Ben answered her question, heading off any sarcastic retort.

  “Amy is my sister’s roommate. She works here.” He gestured toward the bar and waved.

  A pretty woman with purple-tinted hair waved back, making Zane ashamed of his knee-jerk reaction. Amy, with her tattoo and the line of earrings adorning her ear, was kindhearted and responsible. Maybe he shouldn’t let a couple of pink streaks in Eden’s hair and her enthusiastic use of eyeliner bother him so much.

  “I was just telling your dad,” Ben continued, “that Amy and I will be working a shift at the festival. It starts this weekend.”

  “Yeah, I heard some kids in class talking about a festival.” Eden sounded intrigued.

  “We used to go every year as a family,” Zane said. “You remember the pony rides and all the food? I used to dance with you.”

  “Ew.” Eden’s grimace made it clear she would not welcome a dance with her father at the polka pavilion.

  Their waiter appeared, plates of hot entrées lined up his arm in such a seemingly precarious way that it was a miracle he hadn’t dropped everything on his walk from the kitchen.

  “You’re going to love the food,” Ben promised. He’d expressed surprise when he’d learned this was Eden’s first visit to the Jalapeño, admonishing Zane that two and a half weeks was far too long a wait.

  Ben’s words proved prophetic. After the first few bites, Eden wolfed down her food with the gusto and appetite Zane remembered from his own teenage years—when his mother used to tease that he couldn’t come grocery shopping with her because he’d eat half the purchases in the car before she could get them home. Between Eden’s enjoyment of the food and periodic questions about the festival, it was the most animated Zane had seen her since her arrival.

  God bless the Torres family, he found himself thinking at the end of the evening. Chef Grace Torres had come to their table to say hi and make sure everything was delicious, and Eden had seemed a little starstruck to meet someone who was going to appear on a reality show.

  Grace had explained that the producers wanted to film the cooking competition during the festival. “When the first episode airs, Amy and I are going to host a viewing party. You and your dad will have to come. Unless of course I lose. In which case, I plan to hibernate for a year in the longest pity party Gillespie County has ever seen.”

  “There’s no way you can lose,” Eden had protested. “Your food is awesome!”

  But once they were in the truck after dinner, Zane was on his own again, without Ben or Grace to ride to his rescue. “Glad you liked dinner,” he told his daughter. “We’ll have to eat there more often.”

  Eden nodded promptly—confirming that the Jalapeño was the first thing she officially liked about Fredericksburg—but remained quiet.

  He cleared his throat. “I, uh...I shouldn’t have said you look like a raccoon.”

  She flinched, which wasn’t the reaction he’d hoped to get.

  “I have to be at the festival most of the weekend,” he said. “Want to come with me and check it out?” When she shrugged noncommittally, he played the ace up his sleeve. “Ben mentioned the other day that Grace and the other contestants on that reality show will be doing some live demonstrations. You want an in-person sneak peek? Who knows—if the camera crew pans the audience, maybe you’ll end up on TV, too.”

  She swiveled in her seat. “You think so? That would be awesome.”

  “I do
n’t see why not. It happens at sporting events all the time. The producers might even interview people to get their opinion on the food. If there’s one thing the festival has plenty of, it’s food.”

  “What about rides?” Eden asked. “I love roller coasters.”

  “Well, there aren’t any big coasters, but there are some carnival rides.” He was giving her a rundown of attractions and scheduled events when they pulled up in front of the house.

  Eden was engaged enough in the conversation that when he walked down the driveway to get the mail, she came with him rather than disappear into the house. A high-pitched “Hey, Mister Zane!” caused them both to turn at the same time.

  In the driveway next door, Belle and her mother were walking toward their beater of a car. The vehicle was easily older than Eden. Hell, it might be older than him.

  Even in the dim illumination provided by the streetlight, he could see Alex scowl. Now that he’d had time to mull it over, he was almost certain she was going through a divorce. Maybe she was at that stage where she disliked all men. It was a more palatable explanation than her hating him personally, for no discernible reason.

  “Hey, Belle,” he called back, not breaking stride as he proceeded to the mailbox. The Hunts were obviously on their way out, and he didn’t plan to intrude on Alex’s evening.

  “Who’s the cute little kid?” Eden asked.

  “Temporary neighbors, house-sitting for the people who live there. They moved in about the same time you got here.” Too bad Belle wasn’t a decade older. Then maybe she and Eden could commiserate about both being new girls.

  Eden seemed unbothered by the age difference, though. She was already walking toward the other two females. “Hi,” she chirped. “I’m Eden Winchester. I like your crown!”

  Belle wore yet another tiara—this one paired with a feather boa. She preened at Eden’s compliment, but then frowned. “Did you get hit in the face? I saw a movie where a bad guy got hit and his eye looked like that. But it was just one, not both.”

  Alex slapped a palm to her forehead. “That’s not nice, Belle.”

  “I didn’t get punched,” Eden said. “It’s makeup.”

  “Oh!” Belle brightened. “I love makeup. I have a whole kit. Nail polish and lipstick and skin glitter. You should play makeup with me, and I’ll show you how. Yours looks funny.”

  “Like a raccoon?” Eden flashed a grin over her shoulder, and Zane’s heart squeezed in his chest. He felt as if he and his daughter shared a joke, as if they were finally a team rather than two opposing sides. Her smile bought years of memories cascading back. That’s the Eden I know.

  He ambled toward the three women, suddenly loath to let the Hunts get away. “Where are you ladies headed?”

  “The store,” Belle announced. “Mommy forgot dinner.”

  “I didn’t forget,” Alex insisted. “I made a pot of homemade sauce, and it’s been simmering for hours. I just didn’t realize we had no spaghetti. I’m still not used to living out of someone else’s pantry. At home, noodles are a staple.”

  Zane wondered where “home” was. “I think I have spaghetti. Why don’t you come over, and we can check?”

  She actually retreated, bumping into the side of her car. He was half-surprised the door didn’t fall off the ancient sedan. Surely her former home was within a few hours’ drive. That clunker wouldn’t have made it far.

  “Oh, no,” Alex said in a rush. “Belle and I don’t want to impose.”

  Her daughter had other ideas. “Yay! Can I pet Dolly? Come on, Mommy.” She raced into the Winchesters’ driveway, telling Eden, “I met Dolly the other yesterday. She likes me!”

  Eden nodded, her voice a pseudo-whisper. “Dolly has very good taste. She only likes the most special people.”

  And the most “fabulous,” Zane thought with an inward smile. Perhaps he should feel guilty about their ganging up on Alex. She looked like she’d rather drink strychnine than investigate the contents of his kitchen, but after all, he was trying to do the woman a favor. She and Belle were probably starving. Why drive all the way to the grocery store?

  “It’s no imposition,” Zane assured her. He gazed pointedly to the girls, who had linked hands, and lowered his voice. “Don’t look now, but I think you’re outvoted.”

  “Are you going to the festival?” Eden asked Belle.

  The little girl’s forehead puckered. “What’s a festival?”

  “It’s a fair. There will be rides and performing animals and games to play.”

  “I like animals!” Belle turned wide eyes on her mother, imploring, “Please? It sounds fun! I never get any fun.”

  Eden tousled the girl’s hair, knocking the tiara askew. “You, either, huh?”

  “One thing at a time,” Alex said, a thread of desperation in her voice. “Let’s worry about getting some dinner into you. We’ll talk about the festival later.”

  “So you’ll accept the offer to raid my pantry?” Zane pressed.

  “Doesn’t look like I have much choice.”

  It wasn’t the most gracious thank-you he’d ever received, but luckily for Alex, he’d had a lot of recent practice with a grudging female. After a couple of weeks of Eden’s attitude, his neighbor’s surliness bounced right off him. As they approached his lawn, they could hear Dolly barking inside the house. Belle ran on ahead as if she could somehow get through the locked door.

  Eden hung back long enough to confide, “I always wanted a kid sister. But an adorable neighbor is good for now.” Then she caught up to Belle, leaving her father startled.

  He’d never thought about whether Eden wanted siblings or not. Both he and Valerie had been only children, so it had seemed natural to have just one. Besides, he and Valerie hadn’t shared a bed much in the final years of their marriage, not after he’d caught her sharing other men’s.

  Alex walked beside him, her stiff body language screaming her reluctance. “I’m guessing there’s no wife at home to resent our intrusion?”

  He shook his head. “Divorced single parent. You?”

  She was silent for a long minute, and he watched her gnaw at her bottom lip. Finally, in a tone so soft it was barely audible, she said, “Widowed. Since last spring.”

  Her answer hit him with tangible force. He’d been so sure she was divorced or separated. It had never occurred to him Belle’s father might be dead.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said.

  “I...apologize if I haven’t seemed very neighborly. It’s been hard.” She gave a quick, brittle laugh. “Understatement.”

  “Well, if there’s anything I can do,” he offered. “Spaghetti noodles. Car maintenance.”

  “That’s kind of you, Mr. Winchester, but Belle and I have to learn to stand on our own feet.”

  “An admirable sentiment.” He crossed to his porch and unlocked the front door. Dolly practically knocked him down in her excitement.

  Eden grabbed the dog by the collar. “Belle and I will take her out back.”

  He motioned for Alex to come inside. “After you.” He couldn’t help noticing how she tried to shrink her body as she passed him, flattening herself against the doorjamb to insure they wouldn’t accidentally touch.

  Though she clearly wasn’t comfortable around him yet, maybe they could help each other. She was new in town and might need a tour guide of sorts. Their daughters had certainly hit it off; he’d never seen Eden warm to someone so instantaneously. Alex Hunt might not think she was in the right state of mind to make new friends, but Zane resolved to prove her wrong. That smile Eden had flashed him when she made the raccoon remark still warmed him from the inside, like hot chocolate.

  I’m not a bad guy, he silently promised Alex. And I think you’ll grow to like me. He hoped so, anyway.

  Because if he had anything to do with it, their families would definitely be spending time together.

  Chapter Four

  Alex waited while Tess Fitzpatrick, a local dance teacher, counted out bills from the p
etty cash drawer. Tess was a cheerful redhead with a round face and pert features that made her look younger than she was. The first time Alex had come into the studio, she’d hesitated, not sure if Tess worked here or was a teenage student.

  “We are so lucky you answered our ad,” Tess said as she handed Alex an envelope. “With all of our age groups and classes performing at the festival, we really need the extra help with costumes and sets.”

  Last week, Alex had seen the notice for a seamstress who could alter ballet costumes that didn’t quite fit and do minor repairs on older pieces from the studio’s wardrobe closet. Alex had learned to sew early in life, often refurbishing or embellishing ill-fitting hand-me-downs so she wouldn’t feel like such a loser wearing them.

  She returned Tess’s smile. “I’m happy to lend a hand—especially since you’re paying me.”

  “Only a nominal amount,” Tess fretted. “As skilled as you are, you should be better compensated.”

  “I’m not complaining. I’m just glad you didn’t mind paying me in cash.” She’d rather not tempt fate by trying to cash checks made out to “Alexandra Hunt.”

  Alex had stammered through a clumsy explanation about her bank not having local branches and how it wasn’t worth starting a new account since her stay here would only be temporary. Tess was too good-natured to question the awkward rambling, but Alex knew she was a terrible liar. Hell, she felt guilty and self-conscious just standing in the same room with another redhead. Tess’s ginger curls made Alex nervous that her dye job was blatantly obvious in comparison. Even though Bryce had assured her she looked great, her new, sleek, dark hair occasionally made her feel like an actress in a bad spy film.

  If only this were a movie and not her real life! Tension knotted her stomach, but she tried to keep her voice light as she addressed her daughter.

  “Come on, punkin.” The little girl stood watching through an interior window into the ballet studio. “Time to go grocery shopping.”

  Belle kept her gaze on the dozen six-year-olds who jumped and spun in a whirl of black leotards and gauzy pink skirts. “They’re pretty,” she said wistfully.