by Cora Seton
“No! No,” Alice said again, more softly. “I think something’s going to happen that affects me too directly for me to see. Does that make sense? Mom’s death was so overwhelming—to me, personally—I couldn’t look right at it until it was too late.”
“So what’s going to happen?” Jo set aside the towel and bent down to stroke Tabitha, who’d been lying low lately with Max hanging around all the time. Luckily, the puppy seemed to be dividing his allegiance between Brian and Hunter while Connor was gone, so he was often outside of the house.
“That’s just it; I don’t know.”
Jo didn’t like it. Alice’s hunches were erratic at the best of times, but once in a while they were helpful. Given the ongoing trouble they’d had, they needed every advantage they could get. She stood up again, and Tabitha stalked off to investigate her food dish.
“Well, I hope it’s good, whatever it is.”
“I hope so, too.” Alice stopped. Closed her eyes for a moment. Opened them and glanced her way, a smile tugging at her lips. “I’m getting some kind of message for you. Something about giving and taking orders? Don’t worry about it so much? I don’t know what that means—it’s edging in sideways around whatever’s blocking my vision.” She rinsed the cloth she’d used to wipe all the horizontal surfaces and hung it to dry. Wiping her hands on a towel, she crossed kitchen, tugged a chair close to the counter, used it to step up and from there leverage herself onto the top of the refrigerator. It had always been her favorite place. The kitchen’s high ceiling left her plenty of room to sit cross-legged up there. She pulled out a sketch-pad and pencil from a stack of supplies she kept handy, leaned back against the wall and began to draw.
Jo hoped she wasn’t blushing. She’d been giving orders in the maze yesterday, and Hunter had followed them. But then he’d issued one of his own.
No other men, he’d said. She’d thought, of course no other men. Hunter was all she could think about.
What else would he demand, though?
Last night when they were together again in the stables, Jo had begun to think they had a real future together. But if they did get serious, would he think he could call the shots like he’d initially tried to when it came to the house plans? Would she always have to struggle to find her voice like she had all her life, first with her sisters, then with Sean and Grant?
Would she end up right back where she’d started?
When her phone buzzed in her pocket, she reached for it gratefully. A distraction was just what she needed.
“Who’s that?” Alice asked.
“Megan.” She accepted the call.
“Good, I got you! Want to go to Silver Falls with me?” Megan asked cheerfully.
“What for?”
“I’ve got to air out a house up there before a showing. It’s old, and no one’s lived in it for a couple of years. You know how those places up on the ridge get. So it’ll smell bad, but at least it gives us a chance to hang out.”
“I’m in.” Why not? It would give her an excuse to leave the ranch, which she needed. She could clear her head and figure out what she wanted from this relationship with Hunter.
Before she got home, she’d decide how to proceed.
When Hunter next checked in at the house, Jo was gone. Alice, sitting cross-legged on top of the fridge with a sketch pad in her lap, told him she’d run into town. He was disappointed; he’d hoped to spend more time with her, maybe wander through the maze again. Last night had been amazing, and if he was honest, he couldn’t wait to get alone with her again.
Restless, and still worried about Marlon, who definitely was ignoring him, he decided to head to town, too, to gather the supplies that wouldn’t be included in the lumber delivery the following day. He’d long since exchanged his rental for a second-hand truck Brian had helped him find in town.
He liked the winding drive into Chance Creek—long enough to let a man get his thoughts together, but not so long that it became tedious. The landscape suited him. Productive, but wild—kind of the way he thought of himself, although he figured if someone asked Marlon to describe him, his friend would probably choose words like overbearing, annoying and oppressive.
He wished the man would just call. He got it; Marlon didn’t want him riding him all the time. But wasn’t he entitled to, after what he’d given up?
“You’ve got a martyr complex, you know that?” Marlon had asked a few weeks back.
The phrase got under his skin and rubbed at him. He’d never meant to be a martyr—never meant to be anything but a Navy SEAL. Marlon was the one who’d made all the choices that got him here.
Right where he wanted to be, as it turned out.
He kept turning over the conundrum in his mind but got nowhere with it, so he was glad when he reached town and pulled in at the hardware store.
He was choosing screws from a set of big, open bins near the back of the store when a man walked up, grabbed a small paper bag from the rack and began to measure out some of his own.
“You’re Hunter Powell, right?” the man asked.
“That’s right.” Hunter tipped his hat back. “You’ve got the jump on me. Can’t say I recognize you.”
“Steel Cooper. I know Connor.”
Hunter nodded. “Good to meet you, then.”
They kept at their work, but Hunter had a feeling the other man had more to say.
When Steel hefted the paper sack and rolled up the top, he turned to Hunter and lowered his voice. “Trouble’s back in town. Just letting you know.”
“What’s that mean?” Hunter matched his tone. He’d worked with enough informants over his career that he knew when someone stepped up to offer intelligence they were taking a risk. That meant they judged the information important enough to warrant it.
“I want my family kept out of it. Just keep an eye out, that’s all I’m saying.” He walked off before Hunter could ask any more questions. He’d save them for Brian—and Connor, when they could reach him.
Not that he’d learned anything new. He thought about Bright Star, still convalescing in her stall. As far as he was concerned, trouble had already arrived.
“What do you think? Would you buy it?” Megan asked when she’d unlocked the door to the dilapidated house and let Jo inside. They’d driven far into the hills of Silver Falls to reach it, into an area that Jo had heard plenty about but never visited.
“I don’t think so.” Jo was intrigued by the cabin’s age, but even her untrained eye could see the necessary repairs were beyond her. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of decay. At some point this house had been loved, but not for a long, long time. “Did your buyer want to see it?”
“I told you; he wants to see everything.” Today, Megan’s blond hair was pulled up into a no-nonsense bun on top of her head. “You don’t have to do anything. Just keep me company.”
“I’ll help.” Jo grabbed the broom Megan had carried in. “I’ll sweep, you clean.”
“I don’t know how much we can do for the place.” Megan eyed the cobwebs in the corners where the walls met the ceiling. “I’m fine with sprucing up a house a bit to get a sale, but this one needs to be renovated top to bottom.”
“We’ll tackle the worst of it. It’ll make a difference,” Jo assured her as cheerfully as she could. She wanted to help her friend get a sale.
A half hour later, she wasn’t as sure as she’d been before, however. She’d swept her way through most of the rooms, but all it did was expose how dingy the floors were. Everything needed a good scrub, and that was more than they had time for. She found herself itching to go to town, gather supplies and do the house justice; first her mother and then Cass had kept her home spic and span all her life. She couldn’t abide a mess like this.
“Why hasn’t the house’s owner fixed this place up?” she complained to Megan when they met in the kitchen again.
“The owner is dead. Her children have given up on it. I’m only fighting so hard for this commission because things
have been pretty slow lately. I’m too new to get the good listings. I’m going to be hustling for years at this rate.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Jo told her. She was pretty sure Megan would create a business for herself in real estate in time, though. She was a people person and an extremely hard worker. Jo knew Megan still lived at home and longed to be able to move out, but her practical nature was another of her strong points. She’d declared her intention of staying put until she’d saved up for a down payment on a house of her own.
A sharp knock on the door startled them both.
“Who’s that?” Jo asked.
“I’m not sure.” Megan moved to a living room window and peeked out. “Oh, my God—it’s my client. What’s he doing here?” She looked down at herself in horror and lifted a hand to her hair.
“I’ll let him in. You go clean up,” Jo said. She waved Megan into the rear of the house where there was a bathroom, and approached the door, curious to see the person who was running her friend ragged.
When she opened the door and recognized the man on the front stoop, her heart sank. He was the one from the feed store who’d been so forward—and so annoying. His impatient expression morphed into an oily smile that brought her hackles up.
“We meet again after all,” he said. Jo found herself taking a step back. Every instinct told her not to trust this man, and she was done questioning her instincts. She was glad Megan was here, too.
“I guess so.” She straightened, aware that she’d already betrayed her dislike, but not caring.
“Where’s Ms. Lawrence?” He entered the house without an invitation.
“She’ll… be here in a minute.” Jo realized too late she should have blocked his entry. But that was ridiculous—he simply wanted to see the house, right? Still, she didn’t like it when he crossed into the living room as if he already owned it.
“Megan? Megan—we have company,” she called, wanting to give her friend a head’s up he was inside. Megan came around the corner and nearly walked into him.
“Mr. Ramsey. What are you doing here? I thought we were meeting tomorrow for the showing.”
“Came by to look the place over from the outside. Saw your car. No sense putting something off until tomorrow when you can do it today.”
He seemed pleased with this nugget of wisdom, and Jo was beginning to think he wasn’t too bright. That didn’t make him less dangerous, though. He was a Southerner, she thought, but not from the deep South like Hunter was. His drawl was light, not honey-thick. It had a twang to it.
“I’m not quite ready to show the place. My partner and I were just spiffing it up a little—”
“Didn’t know you had a partner.” Mr. Ramsey looked Jo up and down, and she felt like he’d seen right through Megan’s ruse.
“I’m just helping out—” Jo began.
“You looking for a job?” Mr. Ramsey stepped closer to Jo than she found comfortable. She took a step back. Cursed herself for doing it. Ramsey was the type of man who only understood one thing.
Strength.
“No—I’m busy enough—”
“Doing what?”
“I—uh—live on a ranch. I’ve got plenty to do there.”
“A ranch, huh?” He looked her over again. “Married?”
Jesus, had he really asked that question? “Uh—no.” She gave Megan a pleading stare. This was too much. But she didn’t want to ruin things for her friend. Megan needed a sale.
“We’ll have dinner, then.”
“Hell, no! I mean, I have a boyfriend.” Jo couldn’t believe the nerve of the man. Did he really think he could order her to have dinner with him?
Did that kind of line actually work on women?
She sure as heck hoped not.
“Boyfriend.” He said it like he didn’t believe her. “Who?”
Anger and confusion warred within her. She didn’t have to answer his questions, she told herself, but his boldness made it hard not to. She had a feeling if she tried to resist they’d spend the rest of the afternoon arguing about it. “His name is Hunter Powell. Not that you’d know him.”
He didn’t answer, but she was sure he’d filed the name away. Jo didn’t like him one bit. Ramsey swept his gaze over his surroundings and frowned.
“This isn’t the place.”
“You haven’t even looked upstairs.” Megan reached toward the staircase as if to point the way.
“It isn’t the place,” Ramsey repeated. “I need a ranch.”
Chapter Nine
‡
“You’re building what?” the General asked.
“A house—a temporary house. For Jo.” Hunter heard the man’s swift intake of breath and knew an explosion was coming. He tried to head it off. “Remember what we talked about? That I should build something for Jo the way Connor did for Sadie? Well, I’m doing it, and I need to know what my budget is.”
“I didn’t mean a house!”
Hunter supposed he should have made this call when he first arrived, but the truth was he’d gotten so caught up in designing the house with Jo he hadn’t thought to check in with her father. Which was dumb; even a tiny house cost money. Quite a bit, in fact, when it was plumbed and wired and completed the way Jo wanted it to be.
“Look, it’s not as bad as you think. I’m building it on a trailer; the women can move it wherever they want. It’ll be a guest cottage.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better? That someone can hitch up my daughter’s house and take off with her while she sleeps? No way. I’m not paying for that. If you haven’t noticed, people keep taking pot shots at my girls. I don’t need Jo living in some kind of portable shed. Considering she’s supposed to be your wife, I’d think you’d have thought about that.”
“Considering she’s supposed to be my wife, maybe I’m planning to sleep there with her,” Hunter retorted.
Which might have been a mistake.
“If you plan to sleep there, too, then you pay for it!” The General cut the call.
Hell.
He should have seen that coming.
Hunter scrubbed his face with his hand, the stubble of his beard scraping against his palm. The General was right, though. If he planned to sleep in it, he should pay for it. Only problem was, Jo didn’t just want a temporary house, she wanted a real one, too, and he’d already promised her he’d build it come spring. He’d saved up a fair amount of cash over the years, but not enough to do both without taking out loans.
He most likely wouldn’t get a loan for a tiny house built on a trailer. He’d have to pay cash for that, and leverage the remainder of his savings for the bigger house. This wasn’t practical at all. The sensible thing would be to wait until spring and build a single house.
Sensible didn’t come into it, though, he supposed.
Jo needed this bridge from living with her sisters to living with a husband, and although he damn well did intend to sleep with her in the tiny house, he also intended to give her the space to make it her own. Everyone needed a chance at independence, even for a few months. He had to give her hers, even if it made for an awkward winter.
Building two houses would leave him strapped for cash. He wasn’t sure how things would work once his position here was permanent. How would they split the income from the ranch? Would they split it at all? Should he be looking for work in town or on another spread?
Too many questions.
He decided to make a call to USSOCOM, needing to talk to someone who understood the position he was in.
Logan answered. “You dumb fuck; you went AWOL?”
His broadside caught Hunter by surprise. “What?”
“Heard it from a friend. What the hell were you running from?”
Jesus. What was he supposed to say? “It’s not what you think—”
“Oh, fuck me. When someone starts with that line, it’s exactly what you think. You going to run again? We’ve all got a lot on the line here.”
“I’m def
initely not going to run again.” Not unless Marlon did something truly stupid.
“Never thought I’d be working with a deserter.”
“Yeah? What did you do to get canned?”
Logan’s silence told him everything he needed to know. All of them had messed up big time to end up under the General’s control.
“I didn’t cut and run when things got tough. That’s for sure.” Logan ended the call.
Hunter sat back. This wasn’t good. Last spring, when May had announced to Marlon she wanted a divorce, Marlon had gone off the deep end. May had called Hunter next, screaming she thought Marlon might do himself harm. Hunter, stationed with Marlon at Coronado, would never forget his midnight dash to Marlon’s quarters and the sinking feeling when he found his friend gone. It was obvious what he meant to do. Hunter followed him to the airport, and stopped him from getting on a plane, but couldn’t get him to return to base. Instead they’d compromised on a nearby motel. The next few days were rough. May stuck to her guns even when Marlon called and begged her to change her mind. As time ticked past and Marlon realized she was serious, he’d flipped back and forth between anger and despair, taking his grief to a place so dark, Hunter feared he would lose his friend. Hunter had watched him around the clock, listened to his ravings, bore witness to his tears, talked him back from the brink.
Finally… finally, Marlon had calmed down, pulled himself together and agreed to return to base.
Too late.
They were both AWOL, but Hunter knew his friend wouldn’t make it through a court martial. He knew Marlon needed his job if he was going to lose his family. He’d embraced the SEALs and given them as much as he’d tried to give to May. If he lost both at the same time—
Hunter didn’t want to think what might happen.
So he took the fall himself.
He told the Navy he was the one with the family crisis. He cast Marlon as his savior—the friend who’d come and persuaded him to go back. The Navy bought his story. Decided Marlon deserved a break for going after his friend. Marlon went back to their unit.