Ladd Springs

by Dianne Venetta

  Chapter Fourteen

  Delaney awoke early the next morning and dragged herself into a hot shower. She hadn’t slept worth a hoot all night. How could she? Between visions of a stranger swirling around her cabin and thoughts of the formidable Nick Harris outside her door, she was lucky to get a wink in edgewise!

  She was curious about his early life in the mountains, an existence that mirrored her own. Until he made it sound like she was after more, and she’d promptly dismissed herself from his presence. Truth was—she didn’t trust herself. She was intrigued by his life but didn’t want him to take advantage of her interest. Didn’t want him to trip her up. There was no way this land would fall into his hands. She merely liked the idea that there was a positive side to the man.

  The man. Knowing Nick was outside her door was far more pleasurable than she had believed possible. Finishing her shower in record time, she dressed, combed her wet hair, firmed her resolve and went to the front door. Unlocking the knob, she hoped he liked grits. It was about all she had at the moment.

  “Rise and shine,” she said and stuck her head outside. She glanced in both directions and her heart fell. Did he not stay for the duration like he said he would?

  Disappointment seeped in as she slowly closed the door. Maybe the light of sunrise woke him. If he did stay, she couldn’t imagine he stayed awake the entire time. He must have fallen asleep at some point. Bypassing her kitchen, Delaney decided against breakfast. She had too many things to do and not enough time to do them. Packing the camera, her wallet and cell in the backpack, she slung it over her shoulder and headed for the stables, wondering if she’d see Nick again today.

  But by four o’clock there had been no sight of him. Not on her way to the stables, not at the house, no sign of his car on the road as she drove into town. Delaney parked her truck down the street from Fran’s Diner. It was the only space available, which was unusual for a Sunday. Most folks around here were at home this time of day.

  But not Fran. Her diner was seven days a week, breakfast, lunch and dinner. On more than one occasion she’d been known to quip how the Lord understood a woman who needed to work. His flock needed to eat and she was their servant. It was a sentiment that appealed to Delaney. A woman needed to do what a woman needed to do. From taking care of her family to taking care of business.

  Delaney swept inside the front door, the clang of bells loudly announcing her arrival. She had yet to find out what had transpired between Nick and Felicity the other day but Fran would know. Delaney scanned the bar counter, the red stools, the slew of vacant tables. The place was empty. But this wasn’t her busy time. It was the lull between the after church crowd and the dinner crowd, the latter not set to arrive for another hour or so. A few booths were occupied, but no one she knew. Which was surprising. Nine times out of ten, Delaney knew someone dining at Fran’s.

  “Hey sugar!”

  At the familiar drawl, Delaney spotted Fran’s red hair through the window to the kitchen, could even make out the blue eye shadow she wore. The elder woman waved, then pushed out through double doors. Dressed in starched white uniform, red apron tied at her waist, Fran ran a zillion miles an hour, but she never passed up an invitation to visit. Give her a wink and a wave and she was all yours—so long as her patrons weren’t waiting for food.

  Delaney waited counterside. “Hi, Fran.”

  The older woman came over directly and met her with a warm embrace, a veil of Shalimar perfume enveloping them. Pulling away, she noticed the scratches on Delaney’s arms. “Good Lord! What happened to you?”

  “Lost a fight with a tree.”

  Fran’s brown eyes became saucers. “Did you fall out?”

  Delaney smiled. “Something like that.”

  “Bless your heart, child, but you need to leave this minute and see a doctor about this!”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “Not that bad? It looks like a bear tried snackin’ on you for lunch!”

  Delaney hadn’t come here to talk about her injuries. She’d come here to talk about Nick. “It’s nothing, really. Listen, I wanted to ask you—did you see Felicity here the other day?”

  Fran’s brow gathered in question. “Now, you know I was just about to ask about that pretty daughter of yours. Does she need a peach pie?” She cast a hand toward the front display case, golden pastry tops lining three levels of trays. “I have three on the shelves right now.”

  Grateful they had moved into easier territory, Delaney gave an exasperated shake of her head. “Between you and Ashley, the girl could eat her weight in pie!”

  Fran frowned. “Now you know Ashley doesn’t know her way around a peach orchard, let alone a peach pie.”

  Delaney laughed. “How about you tell her that, not me?

  Fran brightened. “You know I do—every chance I get!”

  It was the running feud. Peach or blueberry. Ashley and Fran swapped title at the county fair for who dished up the best pie, but both were delicious and packed enough calories to see a girl through winter. It was a feud smart money steered clear of. “Anyway,” Delaney resumed the business at hand, “I wanted to know if you happened to see a man talking to Felicity when she was here the other day.”

  Fran fussed with the hair at her neck, several strands escaping the edges of her hair net. “What kind a man we talking about?”

  “A tall man.” A very tall man, Delaney mused, transported back to his side in her cabin last night. Standing arm-to-arm was when Delaney realized exactly how tall. She swallowed. “With dark brown hair?”

  Fran’s recollection snapped and she wiped her brow, followed by a light tap to her forehead. She pointed at Delaney and said, “Yes, I do, as a matter of fact. He was in here on Wednesday, talking to her. Why?” Instantly circumspect, she lowered her voice. “Is he trouble?”

  “No, no,” Delaney said. “I was just wondering if you happened to overhear what they were saying.”

  A wicked grin seized hold of Fran’s mouth. “He was a handsome thing. You trying to keep him away from Felicity, are you?”

  The statement struck Delaney. “Don’t you think he’s a bit old for her?”

  Fran returned a full-bellied laugh. “Oh, sugar, don’t be upset with me. When you get to be my age, they all start lookin’ young!” She continued to laugh, but when Delaney didn’t join her, she settled down and said, “Lord a’mercy, I didn’t mean nothin’ by it. You know I only had eyes for Deacon, but he’s dead and gone.” She fanned a hand over her mouth. “And you know me, I’m just a mouthful of tomfoolery.”

  “I know,” Delaney replied, disturbed by the fact she had been upset by the silly remark.

  “Anyway, I don’t recall anything other than him talking to her about her flute and some hotel. Serenity Springs, I think he said. Seemed harmless enough to me, so I just kept an eye on him and kept to my business, you know what I mean? He didn’t stay long. Line was a mile long out the door,” she said proudly, pointing out the front. “And he knew it was best to get in it before he lost his chance altogether.”

  Delaney remained mired in two words. Serenity Springs. Was that a hotel he owned? Or the one he planned for Ladd Springs, should he ever get his hands on the title? Renewed urgency swept through her. If the man was already making plans...

  Did he know something she didn’t know? Was he closer to getting the property than she realized?

  After a brief discussion of food, kinfolk and current events, Delaney passed on the pies and thanked Fran. Turning to go, she came face-to-face with Casey Owens. Long black hair hung limp around the teenager’s face, her pale skin dotted red by the stress of hormones and a far from easy life. Her black shirt only accentuated the marks. A year shy of Felicity’s age, Casey was Annie’s daughter, a girl who hadn’t fallen far from the tree. The hard line currently underscoring her piercing blue eyes raised the hairs on the back of Delaney’s neck. Casey looked like she had a score to settle, and if Delaney didn’t know better, she was looking to settle it
with her.

  Delaney side-stepped the teenager, but Casey stepped right with her. “Why do you hate me so much?”

  About to push past the girl, Delaney hesitated. “What?”

  “You heard me,” she challenged. “Why do you hate me so much? I ain’t never done anything to you.”

  Delaney suppressed the urge to respond. Best to keep this confrontation to a minimum. Casey had a reputation for getting into trouble, and Delaney wanted no trouble with her. But cut by the pain in the girl’s voice, she replied, “I don’t hate you.”

  “You want to cut me out of my inheritance all so you can have it for yourself. For Felicity.”

  “You don’t understand, Casey. It’s complicated.”

  The girl threw back her shoulders and angled forward, thumping her chest with her forefinger. “Yes, I do. You hate me, else you wouldn’t be trying to cut me out of what’s rightfully mine.”

  Delaney absorbed the sullen words, spoken by a child who was as much a victim as anyone. But filling her mind with venom was dangerous. When it came to Casey, arming her with animosity was like loading a shotgun and handing it to a child. Not smart. But wisdom never had been Annie’s strong suit. “The property belongs to Ladds,” Delaney said, as gently and calmly as possible.

  Casey thumped her chest with fist, but her tough façade began to crack. “I’m a Ladd!”

  Pity poured into Delaney’s heart. They couldn’t be sure of that. No one could, perhaps not even Annie. But voicing that would cause nothing but trouble—something Casey seemed already chockfull. “You need to be discussing this with your mother, Casey.”

  “I did! How do you think I know what you’re up to?”

  Fran walked over and with a cautious glance between the two, asked, “Everything okay over here?”

  Casey sideswiped her with a hot glance, but Delaney knew the girl wouldn’t go up against Fran. Fran was Annie’s aunt and neither one of the women would put up with back talk from the girl. Casey knew she was on a tight rope and Delaney could see she was losing her balance.

  “I hate you!” Casey cried, then spun around and ran out of the restaurant.

  “Oh, Lord a’mercy on that child,” Fran said fretfully. “I’m sorry about that, Dell.”

  Trailing the girl through the front windows until she disappeared from sight, Delaney nodded. “She’s running on a short fuse.”

  Fran shared a look of parental concern with Delaney. “That she is, but I don’t think Annie sees it. All she sees is a discipline problem, but that girl needs some attention.” She wiped her brow. “The motherly kind, if you know what I mean.”

  “I hear you.” Unfortunately, Casey was following the same path as her mother. And there was nothing Delaney could do about it. Handing over Ladd Springs to appease a girl raised by a mother who wasn’t certain about the paternity of her child couldn’t happen. If Casey were proved to be Jeremiah’s, it would be different.

  “You go on,” Fran said. “Don’t let her get to you.”

  Delaney looked into Fran’s face, her heart bleeding for a child she had slim influence over. She understood the struggle, the heartache. Like Casey, Felicity had basically grown up without a father, but that’s where the similarities ended. Delaney had made it her number one priority to fill the boots of two parents, where Annie hardly managed the one. Which was a shame. Casey was a bright girl. Given the right tools, Delaney believed she could do a lot with her life. She heaved a sigh. But Annie was more worried about Annie than Casey.

  “I’ll see you later.” Delaney waved off.

  “And take care of those wounds!” Fran hollered as Delaney pushed out the front door and into the warm sunshine. The heat was welcome against her skin, as though it could remove the chilly bite of Casey’s accusation. The girl might not be her problem, but it didn’t stop her from feeling sorry for the girl. It wasn’t her fault she was born into a life of questionable paternity. She was an innocent victim in the mess, much like Felicity was a victim of her father’s poor behavior.

  “Dell.”

  Delaney halted, and whirled.

  “Watcha doing?”

  “None of your business,” came the automatic reply as she pivoted to face Clem.

  He smiled thinly, flicked a cigarette butt to the sidewalk and sauntered closer. The afternoon sun wasn’t flattering to the yellow hue of his skin or the ratty denim of his shirt and jeans. “You don’t look like you’re workin’ much.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I look like I’m doing, it’s no business of yours.”

  “Well maybe I wanna make it my business. You know, on account of you always meddlin’ in mine.”

  Prickles raced across her skin.

  “So where’s your friend?” Clem pretended to look around. The sidewalk was empty, store fronts quiet.

  “What friend?” she asked.

  “Your big, strong man friend,” he sneered. Clem stole a sideways glance to the street. Not a car in sight.

  “He’s not my friend.”

  “Ain’t he?” Clem snickered, as though he knew better. “I think you’re sleepin’ with him.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” she snapped, but knew full well what he was talking about—and the fact that he was talking about it was a bad sign.

  “Wonder how Ernie would feel about that?”

  Delaney forced herself to remain in place. “What I do is none of Ernie’s business or yours, Clem Sweeney, and I’d advise you against stirring up trouble.”

  “Like you?”

  “Like me, what,” she demanded before thinking.

  “You’re a troublemaker,” he hissed. “I know a secret about you and it ain’t a good one.”

  Nerves snapped and popped. “You’re wasting my time, Clem.”

  “Am I now?”

  “Yes,” she said and turned on her heel to go.

  Clem grabbed her hard by the arm, his wiry grip steeled around her bicep. “Let me give you a friendly warning.” His eyes glittered as he spit out in putrid breath, “Watch your back, Dell.”

  She yanked away, but his nails were dug in deep. She swung at him with her free arm, but he was ready and clutched her wrist. Anger percolated deep inside as her.

  “You keep it up and those scratches on your arm will be the least of your worries.”

  “You don’t tell me what to do,” she said and threw her entire body into him, shoving him off balance. Clem lost his grip and tried to grab her again. “Leave me alone!” she shouted, hoping someone would hear the commotion.

  But with no one on the sidewalk around them, Clem lunged at her. He grabbed both arms and this time Delaney lost her balance, careening into a parked truck. The side mirror edge jammed sharply into her shoulder. Rage streamed through her veins. “Nobody hits me,” she growled and pushed off from the vehicle with her boot, ramming into Clem with everything she had. Nailing him in the chest, she pushed him hard into the cement wall of Fran’s. He hit with a thud and shrieked in pain. Delaney jabbed her elbow into his upper body, his stomach, shoulders—anywhere she could make contact. Clem yanked a clump of her hair, jerking her head back.

  She caught a glimpse of a black car, tires screeching as it swerved on the pavement and landed against the curb. A man jumped out of the car and ran toward them. Before his identity registered, Nick slugged Clem in the jaw. He reeled under the force, hitting the wall again and slumping to the ground.

  “Get up!” Nick yelled. He yanked Clem up by the shirt and held his back to the faded blue wall. “I should beat the hell out of you right now.”

  “Don’t.” Heart pounding, Delaney squeezed the knot on her shoulder, her bicep beginning to throb.

  “Give me one good reason,” he bit back.

  “He’s not worth a night in jail.”

  Nick shoved Clem hard and warned, “I don’t want to see you within twenty feet of her, you hear me? Twenty feet.”

  Clem’s head bobbed up and down.

  “If you do, the jail time wil
l be worth the pleasure I’ll take bashing your skull in.” Nick gave him a push down the sidewalk. Clem pulled at his shirt, put a hand to his jaw, and scurried away.

  Entrenched in place, they watched Clem clear the premises. Once he was gone from sight, Delaney retreated to her truck, Nick close by her side. She opened the door and stood facing him, her shoulders sagging. “You seem to show up when I need you most.”

  “We travel in the same circles.” Concern drew his gaze to the shoulder she was favoring. “Are you okay?”

  Delaney hung a hand from the top of her door frame, painfully aware of her shoulder. “I will be.”

  Tenderness mingled with danger in Nick’s dark eyes. “You should have let me finish the job.”

  She shook her head. She had other plans for Clem.

  “You need to let me help you, Delaney.”

  “And why is that?” she asked, her shock from the encounter not fully subsided.

  “Because we want the same thing.”

  Delaney’s hip fell back against her truck. “No, we don’t.”

  “Yes we do. We both want what’s best for this property and for Felicity.”

  Her heart thumped in defiance. “You have no right to bring my daughter into this conversation.”

  “Felicity is a nice girl. She deserves the best.” Nick set a hand to the door frame alongside hers and the two faced off, the door hanging between them like a makeshift barrier. “My buying this property can give her that.”

  Delaney withdrew her hand and looked into her truck. Her backpack sat on the passenger seat, she the only one privy to its contents.

  “Why won’t you let me help you?”

  Because she didn’t trust him. She looked down the sidewalk to where she and Clem had been at each other’s throats. She didn’t trust anyone.

  “What happened back there?”

  “Old feud.”

  “Happen often?”

  She turned to Nick. “Of course, not.” His dark eyes grew impatient, but he held steady. Did he not believe her?

  Delaney blew a fallen strand of hair from her face, cut another glance up the sidewalk and mumbled, “Doesn’t matter. I know how to handle Clem.”

  Nick raised a brow in reproach but didn’t say what had to be obvious to the both of them. Delaney hadn’t handled anything with Clem. Who knew where it would have gone, had he not showed up. And they both knew it. Tempering her tone, she looked up at him. “Listen, can we talk about this some other time? I’ve got to get home before Felicity shows up.”

  “Why?”

  “Just because.” Delaney cast a wary eye down the street in either direction as she eased into the driver’s seat. She grasped the door handle but didn’t close the door. How could she? The man just saved her butt from who knows what—an occurrence that was becoming all too frequent—and she hadn’t even thanked him. “Please. Stop by later? We’ll talk then.”

  A smiled curved his lips into a near smirk. “Already planned on it.”

  Delaney slumped back into her seat. “You can’t move into my front porch, you know.”

  He smiled smugly. “No desire to.”

  “Then what?” And with every fiber of her being, she wanted to know the answer. The real answer.

  “I want to be satisfied you’re not in any danger.”

  “That’s why you’ve appointed yourself as my bodyguard?”

  “Can’t think of a better way to spend my time while I’m waiting for your uncle to come to his senses.”

  Memories from their conversation the night before loosened the knot in her chest. Nick wasn’t a bad guy. Whether or not he wanted more from her remained to be seen. “Come by around eight. We’ll talk then.”

  Nick smiled, producing those large dimples she had noticed from day one. It was as if they carved pleasure into the rugged lines of his handsome face. She closed her car door and gunned the engine to life. Memorable. That’s what they were. Simply memorable.

  Parked at her kitchen counter, Nick sat comfortably on a wooden saddle stool, one leg outstretched before him. Felicity was safely squired away at her uncle’s home, playing her flute for him in what Nick found to be an act of pure grace. From what he could discern, the man deserved very little affection. He certainly didn’t dole it out to those around him.

  Clad in tank top and jeans, both faded blue tonight, Delaney chomped on carrot sticks like they were the last food on the planet. Although he’d downed two loaves of her amazing cornbread, she hadn’t touched the first morsel. Claimed homegrown carrots were all she wanted tonight.

  Nick scoffed. They’d work for about two minutes, but after that he needed something more substantial to fill his belly. He’d already downed a plate of Fran’s meatloaf. Could Delaney cook meatloaf?

  “Want some more?” she asked.

  “No thanks.” He decided to hold his question about her cooking abilities for another day. Taking in the ugly patch of black and blue skin on her shoulder, he felt a fresh rise of anger. “Do you have any reason to believe Clem is involved with the man from yesterday?”

  She angled her head, her gaze darting down to the floor before bouncing back to him. “No. Why do you ask?”

  Because he didn’t believe in coincidences. “This Clem fellow seems hell bent on making your life miserable, as does the man from the woods.”

  “So?” She held the carrot suspended before her mouth.

  “So-o,” he rolled out, “either those two have something in common or you have a damn good way of pissing people off.” The muscles in her jaw visibly tightened. “Any idea which it might be?”

  “No idea.” She snapped off the end of a carrot with her front teeth and chewed more rapidly than necessary.

  “Huh.” He paused. White dots of light reflected in the black pools of her pupils as she stared at him. “And you have no idea why Clem accosted you this afternoon in broad daylight.”

  “Not the foggiest.”

  Nick knew a liar when he saw one. And he knew for a fact that Clem’s appearance on the sidewalk was no accident. He’d been following the man since he left his trailer early this morning. After a few brief stops, one at a rundown house on the edge of town, the other at a pawn shop, Clem had turned his attention to Delaney. He’d spotted her at the post office and trailed her from there, as Nick trailed him, all the way to the diner. “Guess we have a mystery to solve,” he said.

  Pulling another carrot from the plastic bag, her hand stopped midair. “A mystery to solve?”

  He nodded. “We need to find out why the man in the woods wants to hurt you, why your friend Clem wants to do the same. From my experience, there’s usually a reason.”

  Dropping her hand to the counter, she swallowed hard.

  Well, it was good to know the woman had the sense to be scared. She needed to understand this was serious.

  Resuming her nibblefest, Nick wondered why she was keeping the truth from him—other than the fact that she considered him her mortal enemy—why cover the truth behind the attack? She couldn’t be protecting Clem, could she? Memories of Clem’s lunge at her in the woods came to mind. Was there a reason he felt entitled to throw himself at her?

  Nick had no use for a woman who lied, cheated or stole, no matter how good-looking she might be. And Delaney Wilkins was definitely a looker. He particularly liked it when her hair was pulled back, as it was now, into a bun of sorts, hanging low and loose in the back. It revealed the long, graceful curve of her neck, the creamy line of her collarbone, the one he could imagine running his lips over.

  Nick enjoyed the view, there was no question. But if Delaney wasn’t willing to cooperate, there was nothing more he could do here. “So.” He slapped hands to thighs and lifted up from the stool. “Guess there’s nothing more to discuss.” He glanced over the contents of her counter, the half-eaten pan of cornbread, the clear plastic bag of carrots, her glass of iced tea that remained untouched. It was her turn to come to him. “What time do you go to retrieve Felicity?”

>   “Nine,” she blurted.

  “I’ll shadow you down,” he told her. “In the meantime, I’d be sure to ice that shoulder of yours.” Her face dropped to the bruised skin on her shoulder. “It’s gonna hurt tonight.”

  She nodded numbly and he turned to go.

  “Nick—”

  Pleased by the urgency in her voice, he turned back, slow and precise. “Yes?”

  “Thank you.” A small smile touched her lips, loosening the tension from her expression.

  Nick felt an unexpected surge of desire deep and low. Delaney was opening to him. Her chest rose and fell with the acceleration of breath, soft brown eyes yielded entrance to her soul. She might not be revealing the details he sought, but it was a start. “You’re welcome.” He tipped an imaginary hat and said, “See you at nine.”