CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
HOW HAD RYANNE gone from almost being shot to wanting to be shot?
Easy: the arrival of Jude’s former in-laws, Russ and Carrie Jones.
After checking the security feed, Jude dressed in a hurry and gently requested Ryanne do the same. Get your ass in gear, shortcake. I don’t want you out of my sight.
As she’d donned a lace blouse and a pair of unripped jeans, wanting to look her best, curiosity had gotten the better of her, and she’d willingly trailed Jude downstairs.
First introductions were made. Names only. Then the couple had fawned over him, worried about his injury, wanting every detail.
“Your message last night scared me to death,” Carrie said. “Someone shot you, but you don’t want us to worry about it if we hear gossip, because you’re fine. Well, we’re worried. We need more information, Jude. We hopped in the car first thing this morning. Your friend Brock told us where you were staying, so here we are.”
They’d peppered him with a million questions about the shooting, and when they were satisfied—if a bit frustrated because he wouldn’t tell them anything about why or who—they asked him about his life. Ryanne stood in the background, wanting to duck behind the bar every time Carrie tossed her a weird look, like who the eff are you, and why are you still here?
These people had lost their daughter and grandchildren. They wouldn’t be happy when they discovered Jude had found a replacement family. Not that Ryanne could ever replace Constance.
Jude offered only the barest of answers, mentioning the security business he’d started with friends, and how he was protecting Ryanne from the new bad guy in town. Only then did Carrie relax.
Nope. She wouldn’t be happy to learn Jude and Ryanne were dating.
Perhaps I should slink away, leave the family to their reunion? That way, Jude wouldn’t be tempted to confess he was in a relationship, and inadvertently hurt the couple.
The front door suddenly burst open, and Jude reached for his gun. He relaxed when Selma stalked inside, even though her expression was all kinds of fierce. “What’s this I hear about my girl being shot?”
“I wasn’t shot, Jude was,” Ryanne replied.
“Oh. Well.” Selma wiped her brow, in the universal sign for that’s a relief. “I’m sure he’s fine. He’s got all those delicious muscles to slow down a bullet.” Today she wore a beaded tank top and a pair of short shorts, her legs on spectacular display. At fifty-two, she looked better than most women in their twenties. “So who do we have here?”
Jude inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly. Obviously he suspected what Ryanne knew: Selma could destroy these nice people with a few careless words. If he didn’t admit he and Ryanne were dating, the truth could come out in other, less gentle ways.
“Selma, meet my in-laws. Carrie, Russ, this is Selma, Ryanne’s mother.” He stretched out his arm to beckon her over. “Ryanne and I are dating.”
Seeing no way out of this, Ryanne reluctantly took his hand and moved to his side.
Carrie blanched. “I...I didn’t realize you were dating anyone.” She looked to be Selma’s age, but life hadn’t been as kind to her. Grief had aged her, the loss of her loved ones evident in every line on her face. She focused on Jude, desperation in her eyes. “You haven’t been in town very long. Aren’t you worried about rushing into a relationship? And what about your plan to return to Texas?”
Ryanne gasped. “Texas?” He’d made plans to move?
“I’m staying in Strawberry Valley,” Jude said, kissing Ryanne’s hand.
“And they’re doing more than dating.” Selma settled her hands on her hips. “They’re practically engaged. Jude put a bun in my girl’s oven.”
Carrie jolted; Russ gaped.
Ryanne groaned, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her. This. This was what she’d hoped to avoid.
To Jude’s credit, he handled the abrupt announcement well, not apologizing to his in-laws, thereby insulting Ryanne, and not yelling at Selma. “We just found out.”
Russ recovered from his shock first. The tall, thin man with adorable bifocals shook Jude’s hand. “Congratulations, son. You picked a stunner.”
Wheezing now, Carrie pulled at the collar of her cardigan. “But you haven’t been in town very long,” she repeated.
Laughing, Selma elbowed Russ in the stomach. “Only takes one night. Isn’t that right, handsome?”
“Sure is,” Russ said with what looked to be a genuine grin. “This calls for a celebration.”
Seriously. The woman could charm anyone with a penis.
“Our Coni would be glad to know you’re happy again, Jude.” Carrie’s posture changed—stiffened—as she turned her attention to Ryanne. “She was such a good girl, kind to everyone. She was a teacher, you know. Her students loved her to pieces.”
“They were blessed to know her,” Ryanne said. “She certainly enriched Jude’s life in the best of ways.”
Carrie adjusted the strap of her purse. “What is it you do, Ryanne?”
“I own the bar.” Schlepp drinks.
“Oh. I see.”
Ryanne gave Jude’s hand a squeeze. “If you guys don’t mind, I’m going to steal Selma and hole up in the kitchen so we can plan tonight’s foam party.”
Jude gave her a squeeze right back. “Don’t—please don’t leave,” he said. “Stay indoors.”
Hello, fear. Never far from the surface.
“Very well,” she said, making a concession. “But do not, under any circumstances, return without Chips Ahoy!”
“I won’t.” Thank you, he mouthed.
She nodded and waved goodbye to Carrie and Russ and dragged her mother into the kitchen.
* * *
AS SOON AS Daniel arrived at the Scratching Post to watch over Ryanne, Jude took Russ and Carrie to lunch. A hasty meal at Two Farms, located in Strawberry Valley’s town square, where he did his best to sidestep questions about Ryanne. He’d hurt his in-laws today. Unintentionally, yes, but hurt was hurt, and it didn’t sit well with him.
He’d planned to tell the truth, anyway, but he’d wanted to dole out the information slowly, not drop it like a bomb.
The moment he’d realized Ryanne understood his dilemma, there’d been no more denying just how deeply he’d fallen for her.
After lunch, he drove Russ and Carrie to the Strawberry Inn, because they’d decided to stay a few days.
He got that they were disappointed. Constance had been an only child, and Jude was all they had left. The fact that he was moving on, starting a new family, had to devastate them. But he wouldn’t let Ryanne go. Not now, not ever. Somehow, he would make Carrie and Russ understand that he wasn’t just starting a new family, he was adding to theirs.
He walked the couple to their door, but when he turned to leave after they’d said their goodbyes, Carrie grabbed hold of his wrist. “I’m concerned, Jude. Did you get that Ryanne person pregnant in an attempt to replace your girls?”
For the first time in years, he craved a beer. “She’s going to be the mother of my child,” he said, and Carrie blanched. “Please talk about her with respect.”
The color drained from her cheeks, but she nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“No,” he finally answered. “The pregnancy wasn’t on purpose.” But it had happened, and he wouldn’t change it. “I’m not trying to replace Constance. I can’t, and besides that, I don’t want to. She’s a part of me, and she’ll always have a special place in my heart. But I realized just how impossible it is to hold on to someone who isn’t here while trying to hold on to someone else who is. I had to let go of what should have been and grab hold of what could be with Ryanne.”
“I just... I think you need to think this through. You were eighteen when you married Coni. Now you’re jumping into a long-term relationship? Shouldn’t you...I don’t know...play the field or something, now that you’re ready to date again? Make sure you’re not going to regret settling down?”
As if any other woman could compare to Ryanne. She’d obsessed and possessed him from moment one, somehow taking the worst of his pain and giving him a reason to wake up every morning. She’d given him pleasure, erasing his grief.
And, really, he’d played the field in high school. Had no interest in doing so again. He’d watched Brock and the other soldiers who’d slept with anyone willing; picking up strange women had never made any of them happy. Only more miserable.
“I love her,” he said, and with the intensity of a lightning strike, he realized the truth of the statement. He didn’t need to think about it. Love was there, a light inside him. A brilliant beacon of hope.
He loved Ryanne Wade with every fiber of his being, and he hadn’t fallen slowly, or gently. He’d leaped off a cliff and plummeted at warp speed, entrusting her with the fragile remains of his heart.
He loved her more than life. Loved her wit, her sassy mouth and tell-it-like-it-is attitude. Loved her sex kitten playfulness and the bold passion she displayed for him.
Carrie backed down, but he suspected she was far from satisfied. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize...”
He hugged her and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be working at the Scratching Post tonight, but I can come by in the morning and take you to breakfast. We’ll talk then, okay?”
She looked away from him, nodded. He bid Russ goodbye and took off, heading to the store to pick up a bag or twelve of chocolate chip cookies.
Along the way, a text from Brock came in. You get that this girl’s name is Savannah “Vanna” White and mine is Brock “Rock” Hudson. It’s freaking me out. Other than that, all is well here.
When Jude returned to the bar, he found two officers from Blueberry Hill as well as two from Strawberry Valley arguing over jurisdiction while searching the alley for the bullet and shell from last night’s attack. He left them to their work and headed inside.
Jude still hadn’t decided what to do about Dushku.
With straight-up murder taken off the table, his options were limited. Threats hadn’t sufficed. Fighting fire with fire had only heralded more violence.
Fight fire with water.
Having dealt with criminals in the past, he had a feeling Dushku would respond to only one thing: losing every penny he’d ever schemed to earn. As an added bonus, no one else could rise in the ranks to take his place if he had no money. Win-win. Problem solved.
Selma puttered around in the kitchen. Jude snuck past her and headed for the apartment. As soon as he reached the hallway, he heard...crying?
He burst past the door to find a sobbing Ryanne sitting on the floor of the living room, clutching one of the kittens to her chest.
“What happened?” he roared, rushing to her.
Daniel, who paced in front of the bay windows, held up his hands, palms out. “I only mentioned Dorothea’s excitement about adopting two of the cats. Then the waterworks started, and they haven’t stopped.”
Had to be pregnancy hormones. Before this, Ryanne had never cried. And that might have been a good thing. She cried like she did everything else: with her whole being. Red blotches painted her face, her eyes were swollen, her nose running and her shoulders shaking.
“I’m going to miss my kittens so much, and all I wanted to do was eat Chips Ahoy! but I ate the last one and you weren’t here with a new pack and I considered eating the bag of chocolate chips but they aren’t the same and I want the same and do you think the lords and lordettes will miss me when they’re gone, and what if they get depressed?” Sniffle, sniffle.
Took him a moment to unpack her statements, but when he did, he rushed to assure her. “We can keep the entire litter, love. In fact, I insist on it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said between sniffles. “I promised Dorothea and Lyndie kittens, so they are getting kittens.”
“There are plenty of kittens in shelters throughout the state. Who says we have to give anyone our kittens?” Filled with tenderness for this woman, he petted her hair, kissed her temple. “Also, I brought more cookies. See?”
“Why did you bring me cookies? Dang it, Jude! What if I get fat, and you stop wanting me?”
“The more you gain, the more of you there is to lo—like.” She might not be ready for his profession of love, and he didn’t want to scare her. Or have a witness. But, uh, he’d just called her love. He’d have to be more careful. “I promise, I’ll never stop wanting you.”
She leaned into him, and to his delight, her tears gave way to a hearty chuckle. “I’m sorry I overreacted. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. Well, I do know. I’m baking your bun. I’m also sorry I snot-cried on you. How embarrassing.”
Damn, he loved this woman with all his heart, and he wanted her happy, always. Can’t lose her. Ever. “Tonight I’ll burp and fart in bed. Then we’ll be even.”
“Okay, it’s official. You guys disgust me,” Daniel said, clearly trying not to laugh.
Ryanne gave him a double-birded salute before batting her lashes at Jude. “That would be delightful, thank you. By the way, I hope you weren’t joking about the cookies. I’m totally into a trade. Your cookies for mine.”
He barked out a laugh. Silly, wonderful woman.
His tasks for the day changed. Get rid of Daniel, get inside Ryanne.
No, no. Can’t lose sight of the endgame. Lifelong commitment before temporary pleasure. Even mind-blowing pleasure.
He gave her temple another kiss before he straightened. “I need to speak with Daniel about tonight’s security.” Among other things. “Do you mind if we use your office downstairs?”
“Go, go,” she said, waving to the door and tearing into her newest bag of cookies. “I’m now too busy to deal with you.” Crumbs fell out of her mouth. “But don’t you dare worry about me. I want to get laid sometime in this century.”
Daniel covered his mouth with his hand, but the dude wouldn’t stop chortling like an idiot.
Jude stayed silent as he led his friend downstairs. Once they were enclosed in her office, where no cameras could relay their conversation to Ryanne or anyone else, he asked for Daniel’s thoughts about draining Dushku’s accounts.
“It’s doable. Illegal, but doable. If he gets wind of our plans before those accounts are cleaned, he’ll unleash hellfire.”
“I’m not worried about the legalities. No one will be able to prove we did anything wrong. More than that, we won’t be taking the money for ourselves. We’ll be giving every cent to an organization that helps fight against sex slavery.” And in the meantime, he’d be able to get rid of Dushku for good, protecting Ryanne long-term.
Speaking of long-term...
Pacing in front of the desk, he massaged the back of his neck. “Forget Dushku for a minute. You once feared losing Dorothea the way you lost your mom and so many of our friends. How did you stop?”
“Stop...fearing?”
A clipped nod.
“I didn’t, not at first. Eventually I realized I couldn’t have both. Couldn’t keep Dorothea and the fear. When I tried, I drove her crazy. And myself!”
“I’ve had the same realization,” he admitted, “but it hasn’t done me any good. I’m at the driving-us-both-crazy phase.” And wasn’t it ironic. All he wanted to do was keep her close, but with his words and actions he only pushed her away.
“Now, my friend, you have to make a quality decision. Stay with her, even though she could be taken from you at any moment, or let her go. Since we both know what you’ll decide, we can skip to the next part. Your thoughts dictate your reality. Think about something, and pretty soon your feelings follow. Every day we make choices, and those choices define our future. Even the smallest decision can have a big impact. The butterfly effect. Thoughts and actions create ripples of energy. Energy creates motion. So start treating fear like the enemy, and one day your feelings and everything else will catch up.”
“Fear is the enemy.” It was the only obstacle in the way of his relationship with Ryanne. “But I don’t yet grasp how to treat it as such.”
“Start by killing one thought at a time.”
“And?” He needed more, wanted an instant miracle cure.
“Force your mind to think about something else. Something good. About your woman, maybe. Her smile.”
In other words, no instant miracle cure. “Ryanne suggested the same thing. So far, I’ve failed.”
“Perhaps you’re being too gentle. Any time fear rears its ugly head, beat it to a bloody pulp by doing what it tells you not to do.”