by Amy Frazier
She was fast becoming his guilty pleasure.
Dressed in khaki and flannels like any ordinary hiker, she was far from ordinary. A strength lay under her delicacy. Mystery underscored her beauty. And in her kisses he detected both reserve and the potential for abandonment. But he could sense nothing that indicated the two of them had much chance of a relationship in the real world. That was why he wished the camping trip wouldn’t end.
“Something smells good.” Yawning and scratching, Rory crawled out of his tent.
“Happy birthday, son.” Garrett lit a candle, then stuck it in one of the cooked trout. “Don’t ask me to sing.”
“Thanks, Dad.” With a cockeyed grin, Rory accepted his breakfast and sleepily sat on the log. “This is the best birthday ever.”
Samantha returned to place a small wrapped present on the log next to Rory. “Happy birthday. This is just a little something. It can wait until you’ve eaten.”
Handing Samantha a plate of food and a cup of coffee, Garrett couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to face this woman every morning over breakfast.
“This is beyond delicious.” Fork raised, she looked at him across the fire, her hazel eyes wide. “Are you always this handy in the kitchen?”
“Only if trout is involved.”
“Is there more?” Rory held out his plate.
“Do you have a hollow leg?” Garrett divvied up the remainder of the fish and potatoes between his son and himself. His own first helping. But there were no complaints. The fact that his thirteen-year-old child still wanted to be with him, still appreciated what he had to offer was worth any hunger pangs he might experience farther down the trail.
He could feel Samantha watching this exchange. “I wish we didn’t have to go back,” she said, echoing his own thoughts.
But back they had to go. All three pitched in to break camp, leaving the area spotless except for the spray-painted graffiti on the rocks. Garrett made a silent promise to help Rory and Red with that cleanup. On the final leg of the homeward trek, no one spoke, but it was a contented silence. They even passed the granite outcropping where he’d dispatched the rattlesnake, without so much as a sideways glance from Samantha. Garrett noticed because he’d finagled the second spot in line, where eyes on the person ahead of you wasn’t considered an offense.
How many times had he told himself he was reluctant to reenter the real world?
When the Whistling Meadows outer pasture came into sight, Rory moved alongside Garrett on the trail.
“Hey, what did Samantha give you back at the campsite?” he asked his son.
Rory pulled from his pocket an incredible Swiss Army knife that Garrett knew for sure would bust his budget.
“Cool, huh?” Rory said, smiling. “But you know what was almost as good a birthday present as the trek and this?”
“What?”
“That you shut your cell phone off.”
“Hey, if you can go without your cell phone and your video games and your iTunes, I had to show I was just as strong.”
“Bet Mom’s ticked she couldn’t get hold of us.”
Oh, yeah. There would be messages from Noelle that would singe his ears.
Having stopped at the gate, Samantha was staring in dismay at the farmhouse in the distance. “What’s going on?” she exclaimed. Garrett and Rory hustled to catch up.
Far below, the barnyard was alive with activity. Samantha could see her parents’ limo, as well as several service vans, plus a very large delivery truck. People were scurrying between the vehicles and the farmhouse. Which was now painted a color Helena would call “quaint cottage yellow.”
“Oh, no! Mother, you haven’t!” Samantha cried as she flung open the gate and charged into the outer pasture, Mr. Jinx in tow. “Rory, close the gate behind you!” she shouted over her shoulder as she made her way toward a scene out of Trading Spaces. Mr. Jinx’s pack clanked and rattled as he trotted along beside her, ears up, anticipating excitement.
This wasn’t excitement, this was a home invasion.
As she skirted the inner pasture, Mephisto, Ace and Fred dashed up to the fence to greet them and began an antelope-like pronking that would have made Samantha laugh had she not been so exasperated at what she knew awaited her.
Rounding the barn, she came face-to-face with Red, who reached out for Mr. Jinx’s lead. “I tried to stop her,” the old man said with as much agitation as she felt. “Not that you can’t do what you want to the place. It’s yours now and no business of mine. But when she said this was to be a surprise, I got a bad feeling.”
“You couldn’t have stopped her, Red. But I can.”
“I think it’s too late, but I’ll take care of Jinxy here. You go.”
She didn’t have to be told twice. As she crossed the yard, she had to watch out for painters, carpenters, electricians and people carrying furniture and floral arrangements. Floral arrangements? What did Helena think this was, a hotel opening?
Dashing up the porch steps, she noticed the space just in front of her house had been totally landscaped. She now had an instant emerald-green lawn where hard-packed dirt had been, and up against the porch foundation flower beds had appeared with a profusion of blooms. The newly painted porch was dotted with tastefully grouped wicker furniture that looked as if it might feel more at home on the veranda of a Newport summer cottage.
“No, no, no, you absolutely can’t come in yet!” her mother exclaimed breathlessly, emerging from the house and barring Samantha’s way. “We didn’t expect you quite so soon. Mr. Harris was supposed to warn me when he saw you.”
“What are you doing to my home?” Samantha asked as Cameron’s booming voice came from inside, shouting out orders.
“Your father and I felt that if you insisted on continuing your recuperation here in Applegate, you should at least do it in some comfort.”
“This isn’t my recuperation,” Samantha replied with a sinking heart. “This is my life.”
“All the more reason your surroundings should suit it.”
“What’s going on?” Garrett’s voice behind her was the best thing she could have heard. But when she turned to look at him, she saw disapproval on his face.
“Sheriff, maybe you can talk some sense into Samantha,” Helena said. “Just one more hour, and we’ll be ready. If she comes in now, she just won’t receive the true effect. So would you be a dear and take her for a walk?”
“Ma’am, with all due respect, we just finished walking. I think Samantha deserves to go in her own house, take a long hot shower and put her feet up.”
“But—”
Garrett reached behind Helena, opened the door, then held it for Samantha. She couldn’t have been more grateful.
Stepping through the doorway, however, her gratitude and every other emotion with the exception of utter shock evaporated. The interior of her once simple farmhouse was unrecognizable.
Every surface had been repainted. Every light fixture replaced. Where there had been lovely space, there was now very expensive furniture. And window treatments. And paintings. And those damned flower arrangements. It was the re-creation of a world in which her old self had lived. Everything was so tasteful it made her sick.
“How long have we been gone?” Garrett asked.
Growing more frustrated by the second, Samantha turned to her mother. “This wasn’t some spur-of-the-moment idea, was it?”
“No. Your father and I had been considering the possibility on our ride here. We contacted our people and had them on standby.”
“But the physical execution,” Samantha said. “We haven’t been gone twenty-four hours.”
“Darling, you know nothing’s impossible when money’s no object.”
Samantha felt Garrett stiffen. By the time Cameron came out of the kitchen to envelope her in his signature bear hug, the sheriff had disappeared.
GARRETT COULDN’T BREATHE. Standing outside on the too-cute stone walkway, he thought of the money that had gon
e into that “surprise.” More money than was budgeted yearly for his entire department, he’d bet. Conspicuous consumption. He had no use for it.
Who exactly were these people?
He walked to the barn to retrieve his backpack, which held his revolver and his cell phone. Having unloaded the llama packs and sent Mr. Jinx, Humvee and Percy into the inner pasture to relax with the rest of the herd, Rory and Red were sorting the camp equipment.
“Rory,” Garrett said. “I think Samantha’s supposed to do that. We’re the paying customers.” That might be true, but he’d forgotten to discuss the fee with her, and she hadn’t brought it up.
Red shot him a look. “The Duchess has her hands full, I’d say.”
The Duchess. The nickname rang so true.
“Dad, I like doing this.” Rory seemed to be in his element. So much so, Garrett wondered what Noelle—a duchess in her own right—would say if she saw their son now. Disheveled. Sweaty. And absolutely happy. “But I know you wanna get back to the department. I have my bike. You can go.”
He did need to check in. Pick up his messages. Get out of here. “See you at home.”
“See ya. And Dad? I had a great time.”
“So did I.” Too bad it had to end with a big dose of reality.
Heading for the cruiser, he took out his cell phone. Seventeen messages from Noelle alone. Rather than listen to them, he called her.
She picked up on the first ring. “I got the promotion!”
“Congratulations,” he said warily. “When do you start?”
“Just as soon as I can put the Charlotte condo on the market. I’ve been house hunting around London this afternoon. Sticker shock does not begin to describe the experience, but it’ll be so worth it. Rory can choose to attend one of the American corporation schools or he can try an English one. What an opportunity! I keep having to pinch myself.”
“What about Rory staying Stateside? I thought that was an option.”
“Oh, Garrett, not really, can’t you see? He’d be miserable in boarding school, and staying in Applegate? I’m sorry, I know you love the place, but…London. Our son could be experiencing London.”
Garrett thought of Rory back in Samantha’s barn. “He’s really happy here. You should have seen him on the trek.”
“How did that go? Was it worth what we paid? And why couldn’t I get in touch with you?”
“We had our phones turned off.”
“Why?” Her tone of voice said he had to be stark raving mad.
“Rory’s big into nature.”
“Well, I’m sure we can scrounge up some nature over here.”
“Noelle, Rory wants to flip the visitation schedule.” There, he’d finally said it.
“I don’t understand.”
“He wants to live with me and visit you on vacations.”
“Over my dead body,” his ex snapped back before hanging up on him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
LOOKING FOR A LITTLE PEACE and quiet, a little time alone with just him and the TV remote, Garrett pulled into his driveway only to find Mack sitting on his front stoop. “I hope the camping trip wasn’t as bad as the look on your face,” his friend called out.
“The aftermath was hell,” Garrett replied, getting out of the cruiser.
“The farm remodel? I couldn’t watch anymore. That Helena was aptly named. Hell in a handbasket. Red and I could see the whole blowup coming. That’s why I took off. Besides, all that money being poured into one house kinda gave me the willies.”
Amen. Garrett climbed the steps to unlock the front door. “You want a b—” He caught himself. “You want to see if there’s anything to eat?”
“I want a beer,” Mack said ruefully. “Can’t lie to you, but I’ll settle for something to eat. Anything Geneva’s laid her hands on. Some of her leftover fried chicken, maybe.” He followed Garrett into the empty house. “So, how’d Samantha do with the trail chow? I knew she was nervous about everything being just so.”
Garrett scowled. Mack hadn’t said boo for months, and now he wouldn’t shut up. “Rory said he had a great birthday, and that’s what counts.”
“But?”
“No buts.”
“So why are you so touchy?”
He headed for the kitchen and the fridge. “Noelle got a big promotion. In London. She’s set on taking Rory with her.”
Mack whistled low. “Rory’s only mentioned the possibility of boarding school after eighth grade. And I know he wasn’t hot on that idea. What are you going to do about London?”
“First I’m going to use the summer to try and make Noelle see reason. Then, if necessary, I’m going to fight her on this.”
“You better get yourself one kick-ass lawyer.”
Didn’t he know it. Trouble was, kick-ass lawyers charged kick-ass fees. Maybe he should just ask Samantha’s father for a recommendation. The guy obviously ran in moneyed circles.
“Tell me,” he said, pulling fried chicken and sweet tea out of the refrigerator, “what you know about Samantha’s family.”
“Nothing. Why do you ask?”
He ignored the question. “She doesn’t have the same last name as her parents.”
“Maybe the guy’s her stepfather. Maybe she was married before she moved here. There could be several reasons, but why do any of them matter?”
Garrett poured two glasses of tea, then removed the plastic wrap from the cold chicken. The men ate at the counter, standing up, Mack eyeing him.
“What?” Garrett glowered at his friend. “Can’t I ask a few questions? I spent twenty-four hours with the woman, yet I know less about her now than I did yesterday.”
Mack tossed a drumstick bone in the garbage under the sink. “I don’t believe you. What was she like on the trail?”
“Nice. Although she’s obviously not crazy about guns and she doesn’t know squat about tents…she’s really attuned to animals, kids and nature. And she’s drop-dead gorgeous in the morning.”
“What more do you need to know?”
“Where she came from. What she’s doing here. Whether she’s the real deal or—”
“Believe me, Samantha’s the real deal.” The expression on Mack’s face was of absolute certainty. “She doesn’t say, but you can tell she’s known pain. But now there’s a—how can I describe it?—a peace about her. Pretty powerful stuff. She got through to me when no one else could. Made me want to stand where she was standing.” Mack suddenly looked sheepish. “You had to be there.”
“Your situation’s one thing, and I’m glad she helped you out. But I kind of need to know more.”
“Because Rory’s working for her.” Mack reached for more chicken.
“Y-yeah.”
Realization dawned on his friend. “Because you’re interested in her. Of course. God, I’ve been blind.”
“Believe me it’s going nowhere.”
“Well, it sure won’t go anywhere if you start out looking behind her to see who she might have been, instead of looking right at her to see who she is.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Yes, it is. Tell me one thing. Do you still want me back on the force?”
“Of course.”
“You’re not going to ask me what threw me into a four-month drunk? Not going to ask me what I might have done over in Iraq?”
“No. That’s different than wanting to know about Samantha’s background.”
“How is it different?”
“Mack, we have history together. I know your family. I know you.”
“You knew the boy I was. The man I was. You don’t know me now.”
“You’re not going to tank our friendship that easily. Whoever you are right now, I accept you.”
“And I sincerely appreciate it. I bet Samantha would be real pleased if you decided to take her on face value, as well.”
Unable to resign himself to that particular leap of faith, Garrett took a long swig of sweet tea.
“And don
’t go doing any checks on her,” Mack warned.
“I already did. Turned up zip.”
“Great. Your snooping will sabotage any chance of a relationship before it’s even begun.”
There wasn’t going to be a relationship. With their obvious differences, the chances Garrett might hook up with Samantha were already slim to none.
So why couldn’t he let her background alone?
FRESH FROM HER BATH in the claw-foot tub—thank goodness they hadn’t replaced that—Samantha lay between Egyptian cotton sheets so cool and so soft she shouldn’t have had any trouble drifting off to sleep. But the height of her new bed—there were actual steps to get into it—the smell of paint and the unabated aggravation as a result of her parents’ interference drove her to distraction and wakefulness.
She knew her parents thought they were doing something special for her. Their hearts were in the right place. Unfortunately, their hearts were in the five-star hotel world, the Virginia horse-country world, while her heart had come to rest in Applegate.
In Applegate, she didn’t need a designer showplace for a house. She didn’t need a gourmet kitchen. It was nice to come back to a place to call home, sure, but, if truth be told, she had slept like a baby on an air mattress in a one-man tent, and had eaten the best breakfast of her life, cooked over an open fire.
By a man she couldn’t get out of her thoughts.
Garrett McQuire, who’d viewed her mother’s makeover and had taken off as if disgusted with the ostentation.
She didn’t blame him.
He had to think this might be what she wanted. Needed. And if she knew one thing from her talks with Red it was that Garrett’s ex-wife would have fit right into the newly renovated farmhouse. Only if it was her vacation house. As she’d heard it, Noelle McQuire couldn’t stand the simple life in Applegate, while Garrett wouldn’t give it up. The sight of Helena’s handiwork must have really pushed his buttons.