Secret Hearts

by Radclyffe

  Jordan gave Kip the key and watched Kip stride to the shed, still irritated but intrigued despite herself. The woman was a mass of contradictions—confident one second, almost panicked the next; charming and funny, and guilty of some crime; polished and attractive and afoul of the law. Good looks and smooth manners meant nothing—anyone could be dangerous, no matter how innocent they appeared. Catherine Kensington had to have been involved in something criminal even if she had been only sentenced to community service, and that was enough reason to be careful. No matter how friendly or good-looking she happened to be.

  Chapter Five

  If she couldn’t hear the faint clatter coming from the garden shed, Jordan might’ve thought she’d just imagined the whole interlude. Catherine—Kip—Kensington did not look like someone who ought to be sentenced to community service or act like someone who ought to be working in a community garden at all, for that matter. Except for those few moments when she’d been visibly anxious about the idea of police showing up, she’d been cool and confident and surprisingly engaging. If Jordan had met her at a social gathering, she would have pegged Kip as a businesswoman or attorney, going by her appearance and mannerisms—and that was still possible. Individuals convicted of white-collar crimes probably received reduced sentences all the time, with lip service to community service thrown in. Kip didn’t look like any mechanic Jordan had ever seen either, but she supposed she didn’t look like a farmer, even though at heart she was never far from the countryside she’d grown up in.

  Jordan mentally ran some quick math. Four hundred hours was a long time. Regardless of who Kip appeared to be, she was apparently going to be spending quite a bit of the spring and summer at the project, as Jordan thought of the garden. She could use the help, no doubt about that, but she didn’t look forward to overseeing someone who resented being there or in all likelihood was going to make more work for her instead of less. Surely she’d be required to keep some kind of record of Kip’s hours—honestly, the idea sounded worse and worse by the second. Maybe there was some way to get her assigned somewhere else. After all, she hadn’t requested or volunteered for this kind of court-appointed assistance. Just because Kip was friendly and effortlessly attractive and impossible to easily categorize didn’t make one damn bit of difference.

  Jordan shook her head. She wasn’t given to finding strangers, particularly strangers who came with big red flashing warning signs, instantly fascinating. Now, there was a thought she didn’t want to dwell on. She hadn’t found a woman fascinating in ages—or maybe she just hadn’t taken the time to really look at some of the interesting women she met. And there was something else she didn’t want to look at too closely. Why she was so relentlessly single. She couldn’t blame a broken heart or a string of failures—if anything, she could point to a series of enjoyable if less than earthshattering relationships that had slowly dwindled in length and frequency in the fifteen years since she’d finished college and taken a position with the Cornell Agricultural Extension. Sure, she worked a lot, but so did most people. But when she wasn’t working, she spent her time in solitary pursuits—reading, watching late-night movies, biking in Central Park. Usually one weekend a month or so she’d have lunch out with Tya and the kids. She didn’t go out clubbing, she avoided invitations from colleagues to social gatherings, and she hadn’t initiated a personal connection with a woman in recent memory. So she was a little introverted. Considering the circumstances, just as well. She already knew enough about Kip to know she’d be wise not to want to know more. Stymied and annoyed by circumstances she couldn’t change, at least not until morning, she did the sensible thing. She called the chickens.

  “Come on, girls, time for bed.”

  Routine always served her well. A plan, a purpose, was the antidote to everything—kept her mind occupied, her body satisfied enough to make other satisfactions unnecessary, and most days, left her content if not exactly completely happy.

  She latched the coop, turned to go, and jumped in surprise. “Oh!”

  “Sorry,” Kip said from right behind her.

  “Hey,” Jordan said as her heart rate settled back toward normal. “Find what you need?”

  “Enough basic tools to check a few things, although I might need to bring some of my own if there’s anything major amiss. But it occurred to me we ought to check the place out, make sure no one is hiding anywhere.”

  Kip stood with legs spread, one hand in her pocket, a wrench dangling loosely from the other. A faint smile lifted the corner of her mouth, and the sun, rapidly dropping behind the buildings, caught her in its last glancing rays, highlighting the sharp angles of her face and appealingly unkempt dark hair, giving her the careless look of a ruffian, or a pirate. Promptly squelching that image, Jordan swept her arm to take in the open lot. “Hiding where? Under a wheelbarrow?”

  “I didn’t see or hear anyone except the tortured hen when I walked in,” Kip said, “but it’d probably be a good idea to check your trailer.”

  “I’ll do that.” Smothering her swift jolt of discomfort, Jordan started across the lot. “I was planning to see if anything had been disturbed, although I didn’t think about anyone actually still being inside.”

  “I’ll come with you.” Kip’s tone wasn’t asking permission.

  “All right.” Jordan surprised herself by agreeing. She didn’t need any kind of protection and hadn’t relied on anyone for help except for Tya’s friendship in a long time, but it just made sense for the two of them to check together. And she never argued with being sensible. She led the way to the trailer and frowned when she saw the door slightly ajar. Halting abruptly, she muttered, “Damn it.”

  Kip stepped in front of her, her body angled toward the trailer door, weight on her back leg, right arm raised, wrench at the ready. “What is it?”

  “Someone’s been in there. I know I left the door closed when I left.”

  “This is where we call the police, then.”

  “I thought you didn’t want me to do that.”

  Kip kept her eyes on the door. “I’m not anxious to be in their sights again, but I don’t want you in any danger either. Go ahead, call 9-1-1.”

  Jordan dragged her phone from her pocket and placed her thumb on Emergency, slipped around Kip, and yanked the trailer door open. Standing off to the side, she yelled, “All right, no one is going to hurt you. I want you to come out or I’m calling the police.”

  “That wasn’t what I meant,” Kip said through clenched teeth. She stood on the other side of the door, ready to tackle someone if they jumped out, whack a weapon out of a hand with the wrench, do…whatever. A minute passed and nothing happened.

  “I’m going to look inside,” Jordan whispered, anger at being frightened in her own space making her impatient.

  “Not just yet.” Before Jordan plowed ahead into potential danger, Kip jumped the two steps up into the trailer and scanned it in one fast glance. It wasn’t very big, and even in the rapidly deepening gloom, she saw it was empty. Several of the file drawers were open and a few papers littered the floor. “Come on in. I think someone’s been i—”

  “Damn it.” Jordan was already at her elbow. “They must have been looking for money, and I don’t keep any here. Thank God they didn’t trash the place. You must have scared them away. I owe you for that.”

  “No, you don’t. I just happened to walk in.” Kip liked Jordan’s praise, but she’d rather deserve it. All the same, a swell of pride caught her by surprise. Stupid of her. As if Jordan would ever think that highly of her, considering the circumstances. She’d probably never trust her, let alone respect her. The brief surge of pleasure gave way to the dark again. “Can you tell if anything is missing?”

  “Not a lot at first glance.” Jordan sighed. “I’ll look more carefully in the morning. There was nothing here of any real value.” She glanced around. “It looks like they took what they could carry—the coffeepot, damn it to hell, the portable speakers, and the adding machine. That’s i
t, I think.”

  “I didn’t see anyone come out past me, so they were either gone or they went out another way. Is there another door or gate out of this place?”

  “No, but it wouldn’t be hard to get over the fence in quite a few places. If they heard you coming in, they probably just took off.”

  “I did call out when I first saw the gate open—I just figured it was unlocked because someone was here. When no one answered and I heard noises, maybe a minute had passed.”

  “Long enough for someone to make it over the fence.” Jordan picked up a loose pile of paper and stacked it on the desk, centering a mug filled with pencils on it to keep the papers from flying away.

  “You sure you don’t want to call the police?” Kip asked.

  “Do you really think there’s anything to be done?”

  “Honestly, no. It’s petty theft at most, and I doubt it would be high on anyone’s list to search for those items you mentioned.”

  “And impossible to find them.” Jordan grimaced. “I’m happy it wasn’t worse. If they’d been intent on vandalizing instead of stealing, they could have destroyed a season’s worth of work.”

  Kip took in the neat rows of covered green things and the chickens scratching in their enclosure and the flats of seedlings waiting to be planted. All neat and orderly and cared for. Cared about. This place mattered to Jordan, probably to a lot of people. But it was Jordan who spurred a wave of protectiveness. She pulled her gaze away from Jordan’s worried eyes. “It might not be a bad idea to alert the local police, though, so they can keep an eye on the area during their patrols.”

  Nodding, Jordan leaned against the doorjamb inside. “Then I’ll call them in the morning. It’s not going to make any difference in the end result, and frankly, I don’t want to spend a few more hours here.”

  “I don’t suppose you’ve got any kind of portable light?”

  Jordan glanced at the shelf above her desk. “I had a flashlight, but apparently I don’t anymore.”

  “It’s getting pretty dark. I’d better get a look at the truck or I won’t be able to work on it until morning.”

  “I’ll lock up here, then.”

  Worry etched little lines around Jordan’s eyes, but she was beautiful all the same. Kip edged by her to get to the door, their shoulders brushing. She flinched, suddenly aware of how small it was inside the trailer, and how close Jordan was standing.

  “Something wrong?”

  “No,” Kip said quickly. “Nothing at all.”

  “Well, damn.” Jordan ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t know how I’m going to secure the place if I don’t have a lock on the gate anymore.”

  “Go ahead and close up here,” Kip said, needing to feel useful after her nightmare day of being reduced to a nonentity, “and I’ll go look at the broken lock. I can probably jury-rig something that will do for tonight.”

  “You really don’t have to,” Jordan said. “You must have more to do tonight than help me put this place back together. But if you could just look at the truck—”

  “I don’t have anything at all to do tonight.” Kip jumped down from the trailer. “Or any night. Show me the lock.”

  “Ah, okay,” Jordan said, wondering at Kip’s sudden dark mood. “This way.”

  Jordan found the hasp with the lock still attached and handed it to Kip. “What do you think? Can you use it?”

  “I ought to be able to replace it on the gate, but I’d recommend changing it to something a little more substantial tomorrow. This would be easy to pry off with a crowbar.”

  “All right, sure. Maybe you can make a suggestion.”

  “No problem.” Kip dug out some of the screws and screwdriver she’d pocketed in the garden shed and reattached the hasp and lock mechanism.

  “I’m afraid I’m putting you to work before you’re officially assigned,” Jordan said, leaning against the fender of the black Dodge pickup.

  “That’s okay,” Kip said without turning around. “It helps.”

  Jordan stilled. “Helps what?”

  The light was rapidly receding, and not much of the reflected glow from the avenue penetrated the alley, but she could still see the discomfort pass across Kip’s face. She didn’t like personal questions much herself and regretted probing. Business—keep it all about business. “Never mind. I appreciate the help. I’m glad you’re here.”

  “So am I.” Kip lifted the hood and leaned in. Just being surrounded by the smell of engine oil and metal made her feel like herself for a merciful moment.

  Hearing the hollow note of resignation in Kip’s voice, Jordan warmed with a wave of sympathy. She remembered all too well reaching the end of a horrible day, a series of horrible days, and wishing for one moment of normalcy. One instant when she recognized her own life. Maybe she was projecting, reading too much into the weary sag of Kip’s shoulders and the dull flatness in her voice. Maybe. But she wasn’t planning on doing anything beyond falling into bed with a book, and most likely being asleep before the end of the chapter. Like most nights.

  “If you can at least figure out what’s wrong, I’ll buy you dinner,” Jordan said before she could think herself out of the idea.

  Kip searched Jordan’s face for some sign dinner might be more than just dinner, and then chided herself for being an idiot. Clearly, Jordan wasn’t the kind of woman who wanted to be in anyone’s debt. That’s all there was behind the invitation. “In that case, I’ll get right on it.”

  Jordan moved as if to squeeze her shoulder and then pulled back. “Thanks.”

  “Hey. I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

  Kip turned quickly away, and Jordan was left studying her unawares for the second time in less than an hour. She’d never been all that drawn to the secretive, brooding type or in the habit of impulsively asking women to dinner, but Kip was apparently an exception to all her rules.

  Chapter Six

  “Ow. Fu—”

  “What’s wrong?” Jordan asked.

  “Nothing. Jammed my hand. Dark down here.”

  Jordan leaned close to Kip, her hip lightly pressed to hers, and held out her iPhone with the light on. “Does that help?”

  “Yeah.” Kip inched away, uncomfortably aware of the pressure against her side. Jordan’s scent somehow eclipsed the familiar bite of engine oil with something far more earthy and alive. Kip couldn’t put a name to it, but she sensed young green shoots stretching up through the earth, innocent and vital. The image wasn’t quite right for Jordan, since there was something flinty in the depths of her eyes, a hard strength that belied innocence, but her vitality was impossible to ignore. The air around her practically vibrated.

  “So what do you think?” Jordan asked.

  “I think your truck would be far happier if you took it in for a tune-up every now and then.”

  Jordan huffed. “I’m sure you’re right, but honestly, the emotional state of my truck hasn’t been particularly high on my list lately.”

  Kip chuckled. “I think your air filter is shot.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “Not as bad as it could be. It’s pretty inexpensive to replace. I can pick one up easily enough and change it out tomorrow. But this truck really does need some serious maintenance, especially if you want it to last much longer.”

  Jordan sighed. “I need it to last until the next century.”

  Kip straightened and almost wiped her hands on her back pockets. Not a good idea since she was still wearing Savannah’s trousers and not her work pants. Ordinarily, she’d have a cloth tucked into her pocket, but she wasn’t exactly dressed for work this evening. She’d escaped the courthouse and couldn’t face getting into an Uber and going back to her apartment as if it were any other day. Not when everything had changed. And she couldn’t face another hour of Savannah’s worried attention or field the phone call she expected from her father either. So she’d cut and run. Without a destination, she’d pulled the court order from her pocket and hunted
down the address where she was to report the next morning. And here she was.

  “Wait.” Jordan rummaged in the front seat and came up with a wrinkled bandanna she used to blot condensation off the windshield in the morning. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” Kip wiped her hands, tossed the cloth back into the truck, and shut the hood. “I ought to be able to tease a few thousand more miles out of this, if you don’t mind me taking a look at it. If you have your own mechanic—”

  “No.” Jordan chuckled grimly. “I can’t say that I keep a mechanic on call. Every bit of money we have is…well, that’s no matter. So thank you for the offer. Just let me know what you need.”

  “No problem. How early do you need this thing running tomorrow?”

  “I don’t suppose four a.m. is possible?”

  Kip laughed, then halted abruptly when she caught a flash of Jordan’s face in the rising moonlight. “Something tells me you’re serious.”

  Jordan nodded. “Markets, nurseries, fresh food stalls—everything opens before dawn. That’s when the produce is freshest and the plantings are in best condition. Right now it’s not as critical, but we’re scheduled for plantings tomorrow, and we want to get them in before the heat of the day. So I’d like to get to the nursery and also check out some of the open-air markets before seven.”

  “I’m not sure I can get the parts by then, but as soon as I do, I’ll get this running. Just temporarily,” Kip warned. “I’ll still need a day to really work on it.”

  “That would be wonderful. And honestly, I can’t expect you to be here that early. You must have to go to work yourself.”

  “Six or as soon after that as I can.”

  “Great.”

  “It’s getting pretty dark down here,” Kip said, avoiding the topic of her schedule. “I think we’ve done everything we can tonight. How about I get us an Uber.”

  “My place isn’t all that far, if you don’t mind walking,” Jordan said. “There’s a little restaurant around the corner, good Italian. How does that sound?”