Chapter Six
Jane started the day optimistic she’d find something for work in the colorful, eclectic tourist town of Eagle’s Ridge, but as the morning slid into afternoon, she was beginning to feel a heavy weight of hopelessness on her chest.
She’d been given at least ten paper applications to work in several restaurants, clothing stores, a pet shop, and one auto place called Nuts ‘n’ Bolts. In addition, several businesses had directed her to online applications. There was work in Eagle’s Ridge during the summer season if a person was willing to give her real name, Social Security number, and show a driver’s license or ID that matched the name she was using.
Should she risk it and call herself Lydia Swann…after she’d already given another fake name to people in town? Or just try one more place with the hope that some lovely storeowner would say, Sure, start today, we pay in cash.
Of course, she’d had a cash-paying job and lost it. But she so wanted to do justice to that space. She wanted to coax magnificence out of it, and she knew how to do that. She just had to start with the man who owned it. Why did he have to be so reluctant and cagey about answering simple questions?
She didn’t have to make the design about him, but he never really gave her a chance to get there. Overnight, instead of mentally redecorating her dingy motel room, she’d gone back to that boathouse a thousand times in her brain. She scrounged up paper and worked on several layouts for the loft, the kitchen, and the living room. She imagined a mural on one wall, light pouring in from the windows, and something so inviting up in that loft that the little residents wouldn’t want to leave. But, no. Adam Tucker had fired her before she started.
On a sigh, she turned a corner to start the next street, but slowed her step at the sight of a precious one-story, rustic-looking building with a gabled roofline trimmed in red and matching red wooden and glass doors.
To her utter delight, it was the library, and it looked like the perfect place to sit and review the applications, and maybe get access to the Internet and those online apps. As she took the two steps to the entryway, she already imagined the rough-hewn wood and rustic feel of a cozy small-town library.
She was pleasantly surprised to be wrong. Clearly, someone with excellent design skills had recently renovated the space, which was airy and expansive, topped with vaulted ceilings.
Behind the front desk, a woman looked up and greeted her with a quick smile, brushing back a lock of dark blond hair to reveal pretty, if completely unadorned, eyes. Well, she’d heard they were natural around here, but this one was truly an untapped beauty.
“Hello,” the woman said. “Can I help you?”
“Well, I don’t know.” Jane rounded a small table filled with local flyers and information. “Do you have a computer I can use?”
“We do,” she said. “We don’t get many requests for it, but each of our study rooms has a computer and Internet access. Will that work?”
“It sure will. Can I book one for an hour?”
The woman laughed lightly. “I haven’t been the librarian here for very long,” she said, “but we haven’t had a rush on the rooms yet. You can stay as long as you like. Come on, I’ll take you back.”
“Thank you.” Jane smiled gratefully as the woman came around the desk, smoothing a long sweater that covered narrow hips and hung shapelessly over black slacks.
She had a lovely figure and face, but it was all hidden and downplayed, Jane thought as she sneaked a second look.
“I’m Harper Grace, head librarian.” She extended her hand. “And you are?”
“Ja—Jadyn McAllister,” she replied, shaking hands.
“I’m new to Eagle’s Ridge, so I have to introduce myself to everyone. You?”
“I’m just…passing through,” Jane said.
The other woman smiled, her lips the tiniest bit glossy from nothing but ChapStick, Jane presumed. “And you stop in the library? I’m honored.” They reached a small door, and Harper produced a key ring to unlock it. “Just holler if you need anything else,” she said. “Of course, no food and drink allowed.”
“Of course.” She doubted this librarian ever broke a rule.
When she opened the door, Jane was instantly happy with her decision. The room had a window with a mountain view, a desk and comfortable chair, and a desktop computer with a printer. “This is fantastic, thanks.”
“Great. Help yourself to the printer and paper, but we do charge ten cents a page, on the honor system.”
Jane nodded. “You can trust me.”
Harper’s smile was tentative but reached pale gray eyes, making them gleam as much as if she’d spent half an hour on makeup. “I’m sure I can trust you, Ms.…McAllister, was it?”
No. “Yes.” Jane swallowed, hating that she had to follow a promise of trust with a lie.
A few minutes later, Jane was settled in with the applications strewn in front of her and an online application open on the screen. More lies waiting to be told, she thought.
No, forget lying. A job without legit ID was going to be impossible.
Regret bubbled up when her mind went back to Adam Tucker again. Maybe she should have just slapped a coat of paint on the walls, helped him buy some unremarkable furniture, picked out a few area rugs, and called it a day. Why did she have to be such a perfectionist?
Oh, she knew why. Because if she had been a more perfect child, maybe her mother would have loved her more, and then maybe child services wouldn’t have taken Jane away and hidden her in a “safe” home where nothing and no one was really all that safe.
It didn’t take a PhD in psychology to figure out why Jane McAllen was who she was, and if that man wanted her to be his designer, he’d have to let her do it the right way and make it perfect.
A smile pulled at her lips when she thought about the incredible potential that big old boathouse had. And that smile grew wistful when she thought of Adam Tucker with his intense blue-green gaze and strong, masculine physique. It wouldn’t have been awful to spend time working side by side with him, inhaling the musk of carpentry and fresh air that clung to him, verbally sparring and occasionally letting their hands brush.
Oh, it would all be so tempting, tense, even, but not a bit awful.
Pushing away the blank applications, she made room on the desk for the sketches she’d made last night on the tiny note paper from the Hideaway. Taking a small stack of paper from the printer, she counted ten sheets and pulled out her pencil.
On each page, she sketched a different part of the boathouse—a wall of the main room, the loft, the kitchen, and then the living area. She even made some design choices for the bathroom.
Thinking about the ambience and layout, she looked out the window and studied the dramatic lines of the mountains, the deep green of the trees, and the rich earthy tones of soil. Spring buds threatened to burst into full yellow bloom on the low side of the mountains, broken by bright patches of green grass.
Yes, the color palette would be a breeze. But it was more than color…it was the vibe, the impact, the message she wanted to send to these unlucky kids who got lucky for one week.
And that, she realized with a jolt, was the real reason she’d wanted the job. And the reason she wanted the finished product to be so amazing.
What Adam didn’t know was that she connected with those kids far better than he ever could, despite his absentee mother. He had a family—a brother he worked with, a father nearby, a sister who had come home to nest.
And he couldn’t even explain why it was an important project. Was it a tax write-off? A money maker? A strong sense of altruism? Or were his motives deeper?
She sighed heavily and closed her eyes and started to imagine that space finished in the colors of the mountains and earth, the lines of each room highlighted by sunlight pouring in from those glorious high windows.
The furniture would be rustic and wild, like the landscape, and rich with textures that were both rough and inviting, like the world around it. A zing of excitement rushed through her as she grabbed another stack of paper and ventured out to find the librarian again.
“What are the chances of me snagging any colored markers?” she asked Harper, who answered by pulling open her drawer and producing a box with a smile.
“Anything else?” she asked.
“You’re amazing,” Jane said on a laugh, taking the markers. “Thank you.” As she started walking away, her gaze landed on one of the brochures on the table, announcing the Eagle’s Ridge Founder’s Day. Picking it up, she flipped the page open to read about an event that…happened four weeks ago.
“Some of those flyers are woefully outdated, I’m afraid,” Harper said from behind the desk. “It’s next on my list to redo that display.”
“Wasn’t Max Tucker one of the founders?” Jane asked. “The man who built that boathouse on the river?”
Harper gave an apologetic look. “I’m so new, I don’t know the history. There’s a small section of books on Eagle’s Ridge over there near reference, if you want them.”
“I do,” she said brightly, more ideas forming as she headed that way. “I’d very much like to look at them.”
The reference books were mostly about the Pacific Northwest in general and the Blue Mountains and Snake River area in particular. But there was one tiny paperback called Eagle’s Ridge: Military Town that looked like it had been locally produced that had a brief history of Eagle’s Ridge, naming Max Tucker as a founder, along with three other veterans of World War II. There were a few sections on how the town grew after World War II with a strong family emphasis on the military service.
Ideas started to form, designs took shape, and Jane headed back to waste the afternoon on a job she’d never get. But the work soothed and distracted her, and when the sweet librarian tapped on the door and told her the library was closing in five minutes, Jane had no regrets about the lost time. It was what she did…too bad nobody wanted her ideas.
Sometimes it felt like nobody wanted her.
* * *
Adam Tucker didn’t know the meaning of the word quit, and he wasn’t about to learn it now. He closed the gate of his truck on the boxes of inexpensive, unassembled bunk beds he’d just bought and decided that sleep and giving up were for losers.
He’d build one of the damn beds before Ford got here on Friday, or maybe the two of them could put them together over some beers.
He could do this. He had to do this. It was well over two years since he’d left the Coast Guard, well over two years since he left the home of Nadine Butcher and apologized for not saving her son. Well over two years since Nadine came running out to the driveway, tears streaming.
Do something for boys like my Dalton, Nadine had said. Make them more like you and less lost.
He would never forget the mourning mother’s plea and the way the unexpected compliment had twisted his heart. As a teenager, Adam could have gone the same route that Dalton Butcher had, he thought. When his mother left, Adam drank. He smoked weed. He got in trouble…once or twice.
That was all it took for Sam Tucker to rein him in and settle his ass down, reminding him that he came from a long line of military men who didn’t screw up their lives. Since he’d been a kid, he wanted to be a Coast Guard rescue swimmer, just like his best friend, Wyatt, wanted to be a HALO-jumping Navy SEAL. They’d both realized their dreams, and Adam had saved over a hundred drowning people in his career.
And lost one. The memory of that boy slipping out of his grasp was never far from his mind. It was so close, in fact, that he’d yet to complete another rescue since that day.
He’d left the Coast Guard and come here. He’d guided boats and made sure no one drowned, but a real rescue? Swimming against the tide, with someone in a rescue lock, fighting for a life?
He hadn’t had to…but he wasn’t sure he could if put to the test. Part of him thought he couldn’t ever do it again. The other part hoped to hell he wasn’t tested.
He hit the accelerator and turned onto the main road that led back into Eagle’s Ridge, the memories pulling him down way further than the annoying errand he just finished. At least he had somewhere for Ford to sleep, since his apartment was small and they would have been cramped as hell.
Now he had to…stop.
He narrowed his eyes at the tacky sign for the Hideaway Hotel coming up on the right. Was Jadyn still staying at that dump? Or had her need for cash forced her to go somewhere even seedier? An unexpected punch in the gut hit hard as he thought of her in a dire situation. Because he’d been a jerk and turned her out when she asked too many questions.
So maybe he didn’t like her approach to his problem, but she was a solution. And he’d sent her away.
Yes, she was a pain with all her questions. Yes, she was an enigma who refused to answer any. Yes, she was distractingly beautiful and hauntingly vulnerable. Who needed to deal with all that when he was pushed against the wall for time?
He did.
Adam hit the brakes, turned the wheel, and pulled into the parking lot of the Hideaway. Just to check on her. Maybe offer the money she’d refused to take. How about an apology for acting like a jerk when she asked personal questions that he didn’t want to answer?
Yeah, he owed her that, but how was he going to find her?
The way he’d find any guest—at the front desk. But as he pulled up to the one-story office along the side of the motel, the first thing he noticed was an Eagle’s Ridge PD cruiser parked right outside.
Not that unusual for this dump, which was probably the site of more than one crime per week. But still. On a weekday at eleven in the morning?
Curiosity piqued, he parked and headed in, seeing a familiar face the minute he entered the undersized reception area. Lieutenant Michael Stonecipher was a few years older than Adam, a kid who’d grown up a few streets over from the Tuckers. He’d been a cop in town for well over a decade now and had a reputation for being fair to the locals and tough on the tourists who caused trouble.
“Hey, Adam,” he said, looking up from his phone while his partner, a woman Adam didn’t know, spoke to the person behind the desk. “What are you doing here?”
“Better question.” Adam took a few steps closer. “What are you doing here?”
“Robbery.”
“Alleged,” the man behind the desk corrected. “That guest could be lying.”
“Or your maid could, Johnny,” Mike tossed back.
“I’ll be with you in a moment,” Johnny said to Adam.
“S’okay,” Adam replied, then turned to Mike. “Who got robbed?”
“A guest claims the maid stole some money, but the owner here thinks the guest is making that up.”
A guest. A lying guest. A tendril of worry pulled at his chest. “Do you know who it is?” he asked.
Mike looked up from his phone at the question. “Are you involved in any way, Adam?”
“No, no. I know someone staying here, that’s all.”
A flicker of surprise crossed muddy-brown eyes, but before he could respond, his partner turned from the desk. “We need to get started, Mike,” she said. “We’ll talk to every guest that’s in the motel to see if they lost anything. Check ID and make a list of who’s here and who’s not.”
“My guests are going to love that, Officer Crawford,” Johnny complained noisily.
Well, Adam knew one who probably wouldn’t.
“Just give me the list,” Officer Crawford demanded.
Adam didn’t really know what was going on here and didn’t care. But everything in him wanted to get to Jadyn before they did.
“Here you go.” She handed the list to Mike just as he pressed his phone to his ear to answer a call.
“Hang on,” he said, putting the paper on the counter top next to him, just a foot from where Adam stood, and turning to talk into the phone. Adam didn’t even hesitate, glancing down the page at a list of about a dozen names.
Jadyn McAllister, Room 16, jumped right out at him.
“What did you need, sir?” the man behind the desk asked him.
“Nothing. I wanted to ask about… It’s not important when you’re dealing with this. I’ll come back.” With a nod to Mike, Adam slipped out, jumped into his truck, and drove along the building until he reached Room 16. Something told him she wouldn’t want to talk to the police or show ID, or maybe she was the guest who’d been robbed. Either way, he wanted to help her. He owed her that much.
He knocked twice and waited, instantly hearing footsteps on the other side of the door. But she didn’t answer, so he knocked again and kept his face in front of the peephole so she could see and recognize him.
“Jadyn?”
Still no answer.
“Are you the guest who was robbed today?”
After a second, the chain unlatched, and she opened the door an inch. He could see only a section of her face, but it was enough to make him draw back a little in surprise. He recognized her, of course, but she was so different. So natural. So completely real. And something in his chest shifted a little.
“What are you talking about, and what are you doing here?” she asked.
“A guest was robbed, and the cops are here, and they’re about to come door to door and check ID.”
That was enough to make her eyes widen and let the door slip open a little more so he could see all of her face. Why would she ever cover that perfection with a speck of makeup?
“Do I have to talk to them?” she asked. “Can’t I just not answer the door?”
He could see she wore a long T-shirt and those skintight leggings some women wore as pants now, so she was dressed enough to talk to someone at her door. “I guess, but why wouldn’t you?”
A little bit of blood drained from her face.
“Are you in trouble, Jadyn?”
She held his gaze, searching his face, no doubt debating how much to trust him. “No. I’m just a very private person, and I wasn’t robbed, and I have nothing to say to the police. Is that why you’re here?”
“I was in the neighborhood.”
She gave a quick, dry laugh.
“I bought some beds.” He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. “Bunk beds. They’re in my truck.”
Her gaze shifted over his shoulder. “I don’t see any bunk beds.”
“Yet to be assembled.”
She inched the door wider. “You bought prefab unassembled beds for that gorgeous space?” She sounded disgusted which, for some reason, made him smile. Because she cared about his boathouse, even after he’d made her leave.
“My designer wasn’t available for consult.”
“Your designer was fired for asking too many questions.”
“I’m sorry.”
The simple apology softened her features, and he lifted his hand to let his knuckle graze her chin. “Why?”
“Why was I fired? Only you know the answer to that.”
He rubbed lightly, loving the insane smoothness of her skin and the way his touch put the tiniest glimmer in her eyes. “Why do you wear makeup on this indescribably beautiful face?”
He felt a little breath escape her lips. Maybe a sigh. A laugh. A soft puff of disbelief. “How about why are you here when I was already fired from the job?”
“I’m…desperate.” He was, really. “My timeline was cut. My patience is gone. My help is… Do you really think the space is gorgeous?”
A siren coming closer to the motel kept her from answering, and she stepped back.
“Jadyn, why are you hiding? Seriously, are you in trouble?”
Her lower lip trapped under her front teeth, she shook her head, giving a non-answer that made him crazy.
“Tell me and I’ll help you.”
“I can’t. You have to trust me that I cannot tell you why I…” She glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the sirens. “I need to leave.”
There was just enough low-grade panic in her voice to squeeze his chest. “Get your stuff. Come with me.”
She hesitated for a second, just a split second, and then he saw her make the decision that he’d seen on the faces of a hundred near-drowning victims. The decision to let go of whatever they were holding on to for dear life and take his hand.
She let him inside the tiny room, where the bed was made, the top of the dresser was empty except for a stack of papers, and a bag was packed and sitting on a chair.
“Looks like you’re already ready to go.”
“I keep it that way so I can…” The siren screamed louder.
“Maybe they caught the guy and won’t come over here at all,” he suggested.
“You think?” Desperation cracked her voice.
“I don’t know. Is everything you want in there?” He gestured to the suitcase.
“Everything I need. Not my cosmetics.”
“You don’t need those.” He zipped the bag. “Purse? Anything else?”
Snagging her handbag from the back of the door, she snatched the room key and started to follow him. “Oh, wait. I need these.” She reached for a stack of white paper, the top sheet covered with streaks of Magic Marker.
“What are they?”
She tapped them together and pressed them to her chest. “Your design plans.” She gave him a nudge. “Go, quick.”
She did design plans?
“What about my rental car?” She pointed to a little blue compact in the spot outside her room.
“Leave it for now. It won’t look like you took off at the first sign of trouble.”
Even if she had.
“The room had to be prepaid for two more weeks.”
“Then you can come back any time.” He gave her a boost into the front seat of the truck and darted around to get in.
“I am so happy to be out of that hellhole,” she said, underscoring that by tossing the room key in the cup holder. “But now what do I do?”
“Maybe you should start by trusting me.”
“I think I just did.”