By the end of the week, Charlotte had made her decision to stay. Meredith had blessed the choice with a healthy degree of trepidation.
“You’re a hundred percent sure you can trust this sheriff?” she’d asked, sounding doubtful. “In my experience everyone has an agenda, Charlotte. You have to ask yourself, what’s his?”
A babysitter. Jace needed one, Charlotte told herself. And he was a natural-born protector who saw a woman in need. If there was anything more to it than that, she had no clue what it was. Not once had he made an advance or done anything untoward. The sheriff was a perfect gentleman and it wasn’t as if he didn’t have his pick of the single women in the county.
Charlotte had watched many a woman’s eyes follow him across the coffee shop on the occasions they’d eaten there. There was a group of single moms at Grady’s school who’d invited Charlotte to join them for coffee at the Starbucks in an adjoining town. It didn’t take long for her to figure out that their interest was in Jace, not in befriending her. The one time she’d gone to their coffee gathering, they’d plied her with questions.
“You two aren’t romantically involved, right?” asked a bubbly redhead who had seemed to hold her breath until Charlotte had answered that Jace was her employer and nothing more.
“But you’re living at the ranch in his big house, aren’t you?” asked another one of the moms, this one a blonde with wide blue eyes, whose husband had died in a crane accident at thirty-five.
The interrogation went on for thirty minutes before Charlotte suddenly remembered she had somewhere to be and politely excused herself.
So Jace’s patronage was not because he lacked female company. Any one of those women would’ve been more than happy to accommodate any of his wants or needs.
Whatever the reason he’d taken her under his wing, Charlotte wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
By late February, she’d assimilated to ranch life, adopting Jace’s habit of getting up just as the sun was rising. After he finished his chores they would sit in the kitchen together, sipping coffee, enjoying the peacefulness of the morning until the boys woke up. She often shared the details of her latest project and he told her funny stories about his deputies or the job.
On one such morning, he talked about the back taxes on the ranch and how he and his cousins were struggling to come up with the cash.
“You don’t think you’ll lose the land…the house…do you?”
“Nah,” he said. “My grandfather would roll over in his grave. We’ll figure out something.”
They sat there for a few moments, just holding each other’s gaze. Charlotte reached across the breakfast table and touched his hand in a gesture of empathy.
“Have you thought any more of how the ranch could bring in more income other than the money you bring in from the cattle?”
“Nothing I’m willing to do.” Jace shook his head but had held on to her hand. “I can’t see Cash, Sawyer, or me running a country store.” He chortled. “And I’m sure as hell not going to put in a golf course or condominium complex. Some folks have planted grapes but I’m not a farmer. It’s not like Mill County is known for its wine anyway. But it is known for its beef.” He stared out the window and eventually said, “We’ll work something out.”
Subconsciously, his thumb rubbed back and forth against her wrist. She liked the sensation of it, the way his calloused finger felt against her soft skin. There was nothing demanding in his touch, just a gentle soothing that was almost hypnotic.
But Sawyer walked through the door and broke the mood.
“You got anything to eat?”
Charlotte rose, went to the refrigerator and got out the eggs to make him an omelet.
“Charlie, Sawyer can make his own eggs.”
Sawyer took the basket from her. “Sit, drink your coffee. I’ll make us all something.”
“God help us,” Jace said.
Charlotte didn’t know much about Sawyer other than he was a journalist who was working on a book and that he lived across the field in an old barn he’d converted into a loft apartment. She’d never been inside but was hoping for an invitation just to see what Sawyer had done with the place. Both Jace and Cash referred to Sawyer’s home as “the New York penthouse.” Charlotte wasn’t sure if they were being facetious or it really was something you’d see in a big city.
But so far, an invitation hadn’t been forthcoming. Like Cash, Sawyer was polite but reserved around her. She knew Jace had told them of her situation and didn’t blame them for being protective of their cousin and his sons. For no doubt they thought her ex would bring trouble. Aubrey, on the other hand, had been extremely welcoming, stopping by Charlotte’s workshop a few times a week to check on her progress with old man Maitland’s “junk,” as everyone liked to call it. On a couple of visits, she’d brought a thermos of coffee and homemade cookies and they’d made an impromptu picnic of it.
“What drags your ass out of bed this early?” Jace asked his cousin.
“That investigator I told you about called. He thinks he has a lead on Angie.”
Charlotte had heard the men talk about Sawyer’s sister once or twice. From what she had gleaned from the conversation, Angie was missing.
“I hope you’ve thoroughly vetted this guy.” Jace got up from the table and poured himself another cup of coffee. “Some of these investigators have been known to come up with leads”—he made finger quotes in the air around the word “leads”—“when they think the gravy train is about to run dry.”
“Of course I vetted him. I’m a fucking journalist, Jace.”
They both at the same time looked at Charlotte. “Sorry for the language,” Sawyer said.
She snorted. “Seriously?”
A ghost of a smile appeared on Jace’s lips and he turned back to Sawyer. “What’s the lead?”
“He says two years ago, Angie was living in a co-op in New Mexico. Some kind of new age thing in the desert, near Taos.”
“That sounds like Angela. But two years… that’s a long time ago, Sawyer. She could be anywhere by now.”
“It’s something to go on, though.”
Charlotte heard so much hope in Sawyer’s voice that she assumed it was a good lead. But when she caught Jace’s eye there was sadness there, not hope. It made Charlotte wonder how many times Sawyer had gone down this road, only to reach a dead end.
“Has he talked to any of the folks in the co-op? Does it even exist anymore?” Jace pointed at the pan on the top of the stove. “Your omelet’s burning.”
Sawyer turned down the heat. “He hasn’t gotten that far yet. He needed my authorization to go to New Mexico. I’m tempted to go myself, but I’ve got a deadline.”
“Did you give him the authorization then?”
“Of course I did.”
Jace rubbed his hand down his face. “Maybe it would’ve been wiser to make a couple of phone calls first. See what you could find out about this so-called co-op.”
“I plan on it. But this guy’s good, better than all the others I’ve hired.”
“That’s my point, Sawyer. Why is he able to dig up stuff no one else has?”
“I don’t know, Jace. Why are you a better sheriff’s candidate than Jacob Jolly? Why was Cash a better FBI agent than the whole damn Bureau?”
“Just do yourself a favor and check some of this stuff out before you give this guy a blank check,” Jace said.
Charlotte didn’t know any details about Angie, but reading between the lines she got the distinct impression Jace wasn’t buying the investigator’s findings. It was a shame because Angie’s disappearance was obviously a great source of sorrow in the family. Later, after Sawyer left, she planned to ask Jace to tell her the full story.
That was another thing that had happened in the weeks she’d lived at Dry Creek Ranch. She no longer tiptoed around questions she had or topics she wanted to discuss, fearful that Jace would bite her head off. Jace was always patient, always happy to answer her questions about ranch life or respond to personal inquiries such as how he planned to pay the back taxes. Their conversations were always open and Jace never showed a trace of condescension, even though she knew next to nothing about cattle or law enforcement. A few times she’d even broached the subject of Mary Ann.
While he always responded in that concise, unvarnished way of his, he never said anything disparaging about his ex. He never let on that he was disgusted that she’d left two boys in order to move to France, though Charlotte could only assume he was. However bad the marriage might’ve been, how do you abandon your children? And, really, how terrible could the relationship have been? Waking up in the same house as Jace every morning wasn’t a hardship. Not even close. He was honorable, dependable, protective…the list went on and on.
Charlotte’s only insight into Mary Ann, besides the fact that she’d left her boys motherless, came from Aubrey. And according to Jace’s best friend—perhaps not the most objective person—Mary Ann was simply a woman who was never happy. Charlotte had certainly known people like that—Corbin, for one—making her think Aubrey’s assessment was probably the truth.
Especially because Charlotte had no evidence that Jace was an ogre. Just the opposite, in fact.
Sawyer pushed an omelet under her nose. The eggs were brown around the edges. Overcooked. But Charlotte took a big bite anyway because she didn’t want to be rude. Besides, her appetite had returned in a big way since losing the baby. She’d been eating three meals a day, often packing herself the same school lunch she made for the boys to take with her to the workshop.
“Charlie and I were just talking about a way to monetize the ranch,” Jace said.
Sawyer looked up from his plate, gave Charlotte a cool assessment, and went back to eating. “You mean besides the cattle?”
“Yeah. Like the McCourtney’s pumpkin patch and country store.”
“Last I looked, we don’t grow pumpkins.”
Jace smacked the top of Sawyer’s head. “No, but maybe we should. I hear they’re raking it in.”
“Too seasonal. We need something year-round,” Sawyer said, surprising Charlotte for taking her idea seriously. “Let me think about it, do a little research. Whatever we decide, though, won’t pay out fast enough for us to make the back taxes. I’ll talk to my parents.”
Charlotte saw Jace bristle. “I told you I don’t want to ask them for money.”
“It would just be a loan.”
“Damnit, we talked about this, Sawyer. You agreed that we’d do this on our own.”
“No, you talked about it,” Sawyer said around a full mouth. “I didn’t agree to anything. My parents are loaded and this is our family legacy we’re talking about, not a handout for a startup. They don’t want us to lose it as much as we don’t want to lose it.”
Jace shook his head. “If you want to ask them for your share, go right ahead. But I’ll take care of my own. I suspect Cash will say the same, but that’s between you and him. I’ve got to get to work.”
He grabbed his hat and vest from the mudroom and Charlotte watched him get inside his police SUV.
“He’s a stubborn SOB,” Sawyer said almost to himself.
“Do you really think you’re at risk of losing the ranch?” Coming from the help, it was a presumptuous question but Jace had never made her feel like a hired hand. And she knew how much he valued his grandfather’s bequest.
He gave her another appraisal, this one cooler than the first. She thought he was going to tell her to mind her own business but he shrugged instead.
“If he continues to be that bullheaded about it, we will. We owe two hundred thousand dollars. After putting food on the table, paying the electric bill, and keeping shoes on the kids’ feet, there isn’t a lot left over in a sheriff’s salary. And if he continues to deny the fact that Jacob Jolly is a real contender for his job, Jace won’t even have his crappy sheriff’s salary.”
“It’s that serious?” Aubrey had said as much, but Charlotte wondered if she’d been overreacting.
Sawyer didn’t respond in words, just pinned her with a look.
Oh boy. Sawyer struck Charlotte as someone who knew the score. “What should he be doing that he’s not?” she asked.
“A good start would be raising money for advertising. I think he has all of a thousand bucks in his campaign fund. That won’t even buy him a display ad in the Dry Creek supermarket circular. He could use some billboards along the highway, a few full-page newspaper ads, and mailers that should go out to everyone in the county. Ideally, as we get closer to the primary, he should air a couple of TV spots on one of the regional cable stations. Hell, at this point, I’d be happy if he had buttons and bumper stickers to give away. But my cousin seems to think he’ll be reelected on his job performance alone. Pretty damn naïve if you ask me.”
Jace wasn’t naïve. Just the opposite. Being a cop all these years, he’d probably seen it all. But Sawyer was right, Jace did take the attitude that his work spoke for itself. Unfortunately, voters were often more taken with flash and disingenuous promises.
“What about holding an expensive dinner for donors?” She’d been to several for Corbin’s father. They’d been tedious and the food had been awful, but they’d raised a lot of money.
Sawyer chuckled. “I don’t think a fancy rubber-chicken dinner would go over too well around here. But a barbecue might. We could serve Dalton beef to remind everyone of Jace’s roots in the community, charge eighty bucks a head, and Jace could mingle with his constituents. We could show a video chronicling his accomplishments. He might not raise a lot of cash, but at least he’d get himself back in the game.”
Charlotte nodded. She liked the idea. “Okay, how do we proceed? Should one of us talk to Tiffany?”
Sawyer hopped off the stool and walked his plate to the dishwasher. “You better talk to Jace about it first. I’d do it, but you saw how well he listens to me. You, on the other hand…let’s just say you have his ear. That’s saying a lot because no one has had it for a long time.” He gave her a hard stare. “I hope you’ll keep that in mind. He’s had enough hurt in his life; he and the boys don’t need any more.” With that he walked out and headed across the field to that penthouse apartment he lived in.
She didn’t quite know what to do with Sawyer’s statement and spent much of the day pretending not to give it any weight. When Jace got home that evening she told him about the idea for the barbecue.
“I’ve had ’em before,” he said as he came up behind her to sniff the potato soup she was making.
The sheer size of him hulking over her should’ve filled her with unease. Instead, she felt cocooned. Warm and safe and aware of him in the way a woman is of a man whom she longs to be touched by. The truth was she’d been thinking of him—and touching—a lot. The revelation was as strange as her desire to feel a man’s arms around her again. It had been a long time since she’d wanted intimacy.
Yet, with Jace it was all she could think about.
“After buying all the supplies I pretty much just broke even,” he continued, unaware of the effect his proximity was having on her.
“Sawyer said we could use beef from the ranch.” She moved away from the pot to gain a little distance and immediately felt bereft of his body heat. Funny, because she hadn’t been cold before he’d walked in the door.
“Yeah, we can do that. But there’s still everything else. All the fixings. Drinks. Staff. It adds up.”
“Maybe we could get donations and volunteers.” Off the top of her head, Charlotte could think of at least a dozen women who would be more than happy to help if it meant getting closer to Jace. And Tiffany would know others to hit up.
Jace scrubbed his hand through his hair. “I’ll think about it.”
“I could organize it for you,” she blurted out, adding, “with Tiffany’s help of course.”
“Yeah?” His lips ticked up and she felt her heart bounce up and down like a teeter-totter. “I suppose we could do it at the ranch, break out some of the old outdoor heaters and build a big bonfire.”
“Absolutely, though it’s getting warmer.” She was excited for the chance to return some of the generosity he’d shown her. And a party. She used to love throwing parties.
Charlotte and Allison had thrown a sixtieth birthday party for their mother that friends and relatives still talked about. They’d blocked off their parents’ street and turned it into a park with dozens of potted trees, flower boxes, and hundreds of twinkly lights. They’d even hired street vendors and a swing band to play on a stage made to look like an old-time park gazebo.
The entire event had been magical.
“I’ll call Tiffany right after dinner,” she said. “I bet Aubrey would like to help too.”
“Whomever you want.” He shrugged but he was still smiling. “Thank you.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
She reached up into the cupboard for bowls when she felt him behind her again. When she turned around, his startling blue eyes locked with hers. They just stood there like that and Charlotte was sure Jace was going to kiss her. But just like that he quickly moved away.
“Should I call the boys in for dinner?”
“Sure,” she said and began setting the table so he wouldn’t see the disappointment on her face. She’d wanted that kiss. God, how she had wanted it.
And what the hell was wrong with her? Kisses, touches. She’d just escaped a horrible relationship. Not more than a month ago, she’d lost a child. And now she was dreaming about Jace Dalton. No wonder she was the queen of bad choices.
Jace yelled to Travis and Grady and within a few minutes the boys swarmed the kitchen.
“Charlie, can my friend Joshua come over after school tomorrow? Please?” Grady wrapped his arms around her waist. The boy was a little charmer.
She looked at Jace, who responded, “It’s up to you. You’re the one in charge while I’m at work.”
You’re in charge.
He had no idea how much those words meant to her, how they helped restore a piece of her self-esteem. His belief in her should’ve been enough. It should’ve been everything. What did it say about her that she wanted more? So much more.