CHAPTER NINE
Though she had been tempted to wake Gabi as soon as Trace drove away through the December night, Becca forced herself to wait until the morning. Their confrontation would come soon enough. Better to wait until she had a cooler head and a calmer heart.
Instead, she endured a mostly sleepless night, worrying about her sister and about how she was going to teach right and wrong—moral choice and accountability—to a girl who had spent nine years watching her mother take what she wanted regardless of the consequences to anyone around her.
She grabbed only a few hours of sleep and woke gritty-eyed, with an aching sadness trickling through her.
Used to fending for herself from all those years with Monica, Gabi always woke to her own alarm clock. She was dressed and sitting at the small table in the dingy kitchen with her cereal bowl when Becca finished showering and pulling her hair into her customary ponytail.
“Morning.” Gabi smiled at her, much more at ease than she’d seemed all weekend. The irony didn’t escape Becca. She reminded herself that somewhere inside Gabi was as sweetly innocent as any other nine-year-old girl, she just needed more help and guidance now than most, as difficult as it might seem.
She drew in a deep breath. Now that the moment had come, she didn’t know where to start. Better to just plunge right in, she decided, like that first moment of walking outside into the frigid air.
“I had a late-night visit from the police chief last night. Gabi, we need to talk.”
Gabi froze, the spoon still in her mouth. Alarm flickered in her eyes but it was quickly concealed. She pulled the spoon out and returned it to the bowl before she spoke.
“Those girls gave me that stuff. I didn’t do anything. I was going to give it back today, I swear.”
She closed her eyes, her worst fears confirmed. The girls in her class thought she was dying of a heart condition and Gabi was certainly smart enough to work the situation to her advantage.
“What stuff?”
Gabi pressed her lips together as if she wanted to call her words back. After a long pause, she reached into her backpack and withdrew a handful of items, then spread them on the breakfast table. An iPod Touch, a handheld game system, a slim silver cell phone. What fourth-grader had a cell phone? Becca wondered. Probably most of them.
“You told them you’re sick, didn’t you? That you have a bad heart. That’s why the girls in your class gave you those things.”
To her credit, Gabi looked genuinely upset. Her face crumpled and a tear leaked from one eye. Either she truly regretted her actions or Monica had a serious contender for the most deceptive Parsons female. “I didn’t mean for…for all this to happen, Becca. I swear, I didn’t mean it.”
“Why would you lie about something so terrible?”
“At first it was just a joke, you know?”
“No. I don’t understand this at all. Explain how you could joke about having a serious heart condition.”
“I didn’t want to go to P.E. one day. We were doing that stupid crab soccer that I hate and I can’t do. So I told one of the girls I had a heart problem and she helped me get out of class.”
“Why didn’t you just say you hated crab soccer?”
“I don’t know. It was stupid. I felt bad about it right after and was going to tell her the truth, but…” Her voice trailed off and she looked truly miserable.
“What?”
“They were all so nice to me afterward, you know? Writing me notes, bringing me lunch, watching out for me on the playground.” She looked down at the table. “I didn’t want to be here and thought school was stupid. But after I lied about being sick, I felt, I don’t know, important, I guess. They were even talking about having a benefit for me. I thought it was cool.”
“And then the girls started giving you iPods and cell phones and talking about going without Christmas presents so they could give you the money instead?” She used her hard, sharp attorney’s voice and Gabi looked up, startled and guilty.
“I didn’t ask for any of that stuff, I swear! They all just gave it to me. I think they thought it would make me feel better or something. I was going to give it back and tell them you wouldn’t let me keep it.”
“But you weren’t going to tell them you were lying.”
Her sister’s silence was answer enough and her frustration overwhelmed her. “For heaven’s sake, Gabi. Pine Gulch is our home now. We’re not going anywhere. Haven’t you figured that out? These are neighbors and friends, not marks who are so stupid they deserve to be conned. People you can grift and then never see again. I can’t believe Monica never explained the difference of that to you. What are those girls going to think now when they find out it’s not true, that you don’t have a heart condition and you’re not dying?”
She could see by the shock on Gabi’s features that the thought had never occurred to her. And why would it? She and Monica had never lived more than a few months at a time anywhere, always moving on to the next city, the next job. Her poor sister had never had a normal life. As far as Becca knew, she’d probably never had a real friend who lasted more than a few weeks. Of course she wouldn’t have her focus on the long-term implications.
Her sister’s words confirmed the assumption. “They won’t want to be my friends now, will they?”
Oh, darn. She wanted to step in and fix this for her sister but she knew this was one of those problems Gabi simply had to deal with on her own. How could Becca undo a lifetime of her mother’s example and help Gabi see she could find a better way of life than using other people for her own advantage?
The only thing that gave her hope was the knowledge that she had grown up under the exact same circumstances and somehow came out the other side with this sometimes inconvenient moral compass she couldn’t shake.
“It’s going to take some work. Put yourself in their position. You lied to them. They won’t like thinking you made a fool of them. Now you’re going to have to be honest—tell them what you told me, about wanting them to like you. Believe it or not, honesty can take you a lot further than lies and deception.”
Judging by her skeptical expression, Gabi didn’t look as if she were buying that particular concept. Becca couldn’t really blame her.
Gabrielle was quiet all the way to the diner. She tried rather halfheartedly to convince Becca she didn’t feel well, still feeling sick from Friday, and thought she should stay home one more day.
Becca only raised her eyebrow and stared down her sister, and after a moment Gabi mumbled something about how she would probably feel better once she was at school. When they arrived, she slid into her favorite booth looking out over Main Street and propped her book open in front of her.
As Becca waited on customers, she tried to keep a careful eye on her sister. She was fairly positive she didn’t see Gabi turn the page one single time. Still, Gabi barely looked up even when Becca set a hot chocolate topped with fluffy whipped cream in front of her.
A little remorse could go a long way, she reminded herself as she waited on The Gulch regulars. Gabi needed to suffer a little for what she’d done to deceive her friends. Pain was a harsh but effective teacher.
The regulars had been joined by one of their occasional members, the mayor of Pine Gulch, Quinn Montgomery, a distinguished-looking man in his sixties with a teasing glint in his eyes.
She passed out their orders, ending with the mayor. “Here you go, sir. Egg-white omelet with extra green peppers, just the way you like.”
“Thank you, my dear.” He gave her a warm smile. “I don’t know how you keep straight what everyone prefers.”
She returned his smile as she refilled coffee at the table. “My steel-trap mind, Mayor. It serves me well.”
He laughed out loud at that. “Where can I get one of those? My Marjorie is always telling me I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on.”
Becca smiled and moved on to the next table, feeling slightly better than she had since she woke up.
She might trip over her feet and struggle to pour a simple cup of coffee without spilling it all over the customer and herself, but Becca had been given the gift of a keen memory. She never would have survived law school that first terrible year without it.
She sometimes suspected her excellent memory for customer names and preferences might be the only reason Lou and Donna hadn’t fired her after the first week for gross incompetence. She was not cut out to be a waitress, though she wanted to believe she was no longer a complete disaster.
A couple of construction workers next to the regulars’ booth were just giving her their orders when the door to the diner opened and the chief of police walked in wearing khakis and his Pine Gulch P.D. parka, looking dark and masculine. Her heartbeat skittered and she shifted her body so she was turned away from the door, reluctant to face him after the awkwardness of the night before.
“Did you catch that?”
She looked down at the construction worker with a bushy beard that had taken over his face. So much for her memory. With Trace Bowman around, she forgot completely where she was and what she was doing. “I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?”
With a frustrated sigh, he gave her his order again, making sure she wrote it down dutifully this time. When she finished, she turned to head toward the kitchen to place the order with Lou and discovered Trace had stopped to talk to the mayor and the other regulars, which meant she had no choice but to walk right past him.
She might have expected him to gaze at her with wariness or even disdain after basically finding out her sister was running a con on the whole elementary school. Instead, he greeted her with a smile that felt very much like a warm kiss on the cheek.
“Thanks for meeting me here,” she heard the mayor say as she moved past. “We’ve got to figure out what we can do about that pesky intersection once and for all. Three fender-benders there in two weeks are three too many. Becca, you mind if we take an empty booth?”
She turned back. “Um, no. Of course not. Take whichever table you’d like.”
“Can you give me a minute first, Mayor?” Trace asked. “I see someone I need to have a word with.”
“No problem. Do what you need to do.”
Becca expected Trace to go talk to one of the other patrons. Instead, he headed toward the booth in the corner where Gabi sat pretending to read, the whipped cream now dissolved into her untouched hot chocolate.
Oh, she wished she had a customer nearby who needed something. She was consumed with curiosity and no small amount of dread. Would he lecture Gabi, chide her for lying? She wouldn’t be able to hear them over the noise of clinking glasses and the hum of conversation in the diner. She could see Gabi’s reaction, however. Her sister’s expression as she saw the chief of police headed toward her was painful to see, a mix of fear and embarrassment. Trace said something to her, and to her shock Becca watched a small smile blossom on her sister’s features, the first one she’d seen all morning.
They talked for a moment longer and then Gabi actually laughed. Becca couldn’t hear the sound of it from her position but she could see her sister’s genuine smile, the way her eyes lit up as some of the fine-wrought tension seeped out of her.
In that instant as she gazed at the two of them, something hard and tight seemed to dislodge around her heart and crumble to pieces. The noises of the diner seemed to fade and she couldn’t breathe suddenly as the shocking realization thundered through her.
She was falling for Trace Bowman, this man who took time out of his hectic schedule and left the mayor himself waiting so that he could cajole a smile and a laugh from a frightened young girl.
Oh, she was an idiot. He was a police officer. The chief of police, for heaven’s sake. If he knew who she was, what she came from, he would want nothing to do with her. How could she have been so very foolish? She should have taken better care to keep him at a distance. From the moment she had met him here at The Gulch, she should have done everything she could to discourage his attempts at friendship.
She knew what was at stake here. As she had told her sister just that morning, Pine Gulch was their home now. They had nowhere else to go. She was trying to be admitted into the bar, to open her own law practice.
Only an ill bird fouls its own nest. Her nest was well and truly fouled. Disastrously messed up. How would she be able to live here, make a life with Gabi, when she was foolishly falling in love with the chief of police?
“Hey, Becca, you mind topping me off?” Jesse Redbear gave her his toothless smile. The sounds of the diner filtered back through her head and she realized she was standing stupidly in the middle of the floor gazing into space with the pot of regular in her hand.
She forced herself to move forward. Out of somewhere deep inside, she manufactured a smile. “Here you go. Sorry about that.”
“Everything okay, hon? You look kind of pale.” Sal Martinez gave her a worried look.
“I’m fine. Just fine.” She shoved this latest disaster into the compartment in her head labeled “later” and pasted on what she hoped was a charming smile. “I can’t believe it’s snowing again. Doesn’t it ever stop around here?”
“Sure,” Jess said with his wheezy two-pack-a-day laugh. “We hardly ever have snow in July and August.”
“Something to look forward to, then,” she answered, then moved away. She would worry about Trace Bowman and her very inconvenient feelings for him later. For now, she had a shift to finish, responsibilities to meet.
A nest to protect.
* * *
As he sat down with the mayor and listened while Quinn outlined the complaints he’d received about the intersection of Aspen Grove and Skyline Road, Trace couldn’t seem to keep himself from watching Becca out of the corner of his gaze.
He found everything about her fascinating, from how she tucked her hair behind her ear, to the way she nibbled on the end of her pencil as she took orders, to the little wrist flip she did as she delivered a customer’s order.
He wasn’t the only one drawn to her. Because of her quiet dignity and warmth, people just seemed to want to be around her. The old coots who were The Gulch regulars were completely enamored. They flirted and joked and teased. She didn’t appear to mind. She flirted right back with them. He imagined just the tips from the breakfast regulars would go far to help her with her budgetary needs.
Soon she made her way through the dining room toward the open table Quinn had found near the hall leading to the bathroom, though she still seemed to be avoiding his gaze.
“Mayor, would you like more coffee?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
Finally she met his gaze and he saw wariness there and something else, something that looked like barely veiled panic.
“Chief Bowman, are you ready to order?” she asked, pulling out her notebook and pencil.
The idea of her in a position of servitude bothered him for reasons he couldn’t have explained, but he didn’t have a choice in this situation. “I’m going to have to go with what works. I’ll have my usual. Western omelet and a stack.”
“A man who knows what he wants.”
“I’m beginning to,” he murmured.
Her eyes widened and she stared at him for a long moment. Currents zinged between them and he couldn’t believe everybody else in the diner didn’t notice. Finally she wrenched her gaze away and nearly stumbled in her haste to escape their table and head toward Lou and the grill to give his order.
“In the short-term, we need a four-way stop there at the minimum, wouldn’t you agree?” the mayor said.
Trace turned his attention back to the conversation and responded appropriately, though half his mind was still occupied with Becca and Gabi. A few moments later, he saw her glance at her watch and then head to the girl’s table, probably to remind her it was time for school.
Gabi’s face was all puckered and tight like she wanted to cry. Poor kid. He didn’t blame her for not wanting to go to school. When he had spoken with her earlier, he had mainly intended only to tell her he was relieved she wasn’t dying, but the moment she saw him, Gabi had looked even more miserable, if possible. Her features had dissolved into distress and she had stammered out an explanation about wanting to get out of P.E. and the story exploding beyond her control. She was visibly upset and had even apologized to him for her deception, when he had merely been a bystander in the whole situation.
He hadn’t lectured her. Instead, he had told her about the time he and his twin brother had tried to deceive their teachers by trading places in school and he’d learned later his brother had only come up with the idea so he could get out of three tests he had that day. What had started as a funny joke had turned into the worst day of his young life.
The poor girl had laughed at the story but she was still quite obviously very sorry for what she had done. He’d also given her the benefit of his life experience by telling her things that seem impossible to face are never as hard as they appear. Like yanking a bandage, it was usually better to do it fast and get it over with.
She wouldn’t have an easy time of it in school that day but she would get through it.
On some level, he could relate. He knew what it was to regret something with every breath, to wonder how he could ever face the people he had wronged. After his parents’ murders, he had expected Caidy and his brothers to hate him for his unwitting part. If he hadn’t been so self-absorbed with Lilah Bodine, he would have been at the ranch with his parents. He didn’t know if he could have stopped the home invasion robbery but he might have been able to use the negotiation skills he’d gained as an MP to keep the situation from exploding as it had done.
Instead, he’d been drinking and partying, making out with a lying little bitch while his parents died violent and tragic deaths, his younger sister emotionally scarred for life.
His siblings hadn’t blamed him. He still didn’t understand why but he was deeply grateful for their forbearance. He pushed the thought away as he watched Becca help Gabi into her coat and backpack. He couldn’t hear their conversation but he saw Becca pull her daughter into a hug. “I’m sorry, honey, but you have to face this,” he heard her say.
Gabi released a heavy sigh and started trudging toward the door as if she were heading toward a month of math exams. She had to pass his table as she went and he impulsively reached out a hand and grabbed her arm. “Everything will be okay, Gabi. Any girl tough enough to set up a Christmas tree on the first try can handle this.”
She didn’t look convinced but she still gave him a hesitant smile that seemed to reach right in and nestle next to his heart. “Thanks,” she said. “You’re welcome.”
When he looked up, he found Becca watching him with an unreadable look in her eyes. Just before Gabi reached the door, Becca called out to her to wait for a moment, then she turned to Donna, working behind the counter. “Donna, do you mind if I take my break a little early so I can run Gabi to school? It’s snowing pretty hard out there.”
“No problem,” the older woman answered. “I can cover your section.”
Becca hurried to the back room and returned a moment later minus her apron and carrying her coat and purse.
While she was gone, Trace and the mayor finished their plan of attack on the hazardous intersection—a new four-way-stop and better signage—and the mayor excused himself to meet with the head of the public works department that took care of the roads.
Trace was just about done with his omelet when Becca returned, her features tight with stress.
He had a ridiculous urge to pull her down beside him, tuck her under his arm and let her lean on him for a moment. She gave him a distracted smile but moved into the back room again to change out of her coat and back into her apron.
He needed to head into the station but found himself reluctant to leave without talking to her again. When she bustled out and started making the rounds of the diner with coffee, he fought the urge to grab her hand and make her stop and rest for a moment. Finally she made it to his table.
“Looks like the mayor paid for your breakfast. Would you like more coffee before you leave, Chief Bowman?”
She had called him Trace when he kissed her. He found himself reliving that kiss in great detail and wanting nothing more than another taste. “I’m good. I’ve got to head into the station, anyway. Gabi made it to school, then?”
Her smile faltered a little and he saw worry in her eyes. “I stayed and watched her walk all the way through the front doors and even saw Jennie Dalton greet her at the entrance. I don’t think she’ll be able to duck outside again, not with the principal herself in view.”
He had a feeling Gabi was clever enough to do just that but he decided not to worry Becca by sharing that particular opinion.
“She told me what you said, about being brave enough to face her lies and how much better she’ll feel when she’s made things right. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. She’s a good kid, Becca. I really do think she just told a little lie and then got carried away. It happens.”
She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again, obviously changing her mind. “I’m sure you’re right, Chief,” she said solemnly before heading to the kitchen.
The mayor had probably covered his tip as well, but Trace left a few bills on the table anyway, wanting to leave her a healthy but not exorbitant gratuity. She would hate feeling like an object of charity, he knew.
His day was hectic with snow-related trouble. Besides the usual car accidents, a section of roof collapsed on the auto parts store, injuring an employee and a customer. He only had time for the occasional worry for Becca and Gabi until he returned to his own house twelve hours later to find a basket on his doorstep, its contents hidden in red tissue paper.
It wasn’t unusual this time of year for Pine Gulch citizens to drop off the occasional thank-you gift for the police department. People typically made these sorts of deliveries to the police station but since everyone in town knew where he lived, he had occasionally been the recipient of a box of fudge or some peanut brittle. He considered that one of the best things about living in Pine Gulch. The small police force had its detractors, certainly, but most of the residents seemed to appreciate the sacrifice and dedication of his officers.
He slid open the envelope and saw the note with its slanting, firm handwriting. “We made sugar cookies this afternoon and Gabi wanted to bring you some,” Becca wrote. “Thank you for buoying up a frightened girl. She survived the day, with your help.”
He unlocked the door to a barked greeting from his ugly, grumpy dog, who spent most of the day sleeping or sniffing around the perimeter of his yard as if guarding a demilitarized zone.
He patted the dog’s head and scratched behind his ears. Poor thing, spending so much time by himself. Trace tried to take him around town whenever he could, but Grunt seemed to prefer his own company, probably from all those years as a companion to a dour old man.
He ought to look around for a new home for Grunt. A family, maybe. Noisy and hectic. That would be good for him. Caidy had offered to take him to the ranch to add to her menagerie. Grunt wasn’t crazy about horses and had a hard time keeping up with Caidy’s more active ranch dogs, but he might still enjoy the company.
He nibbled on a cookie, then gave a tiny section to Grunt, who gobbled it up and came back looking for more. Trace knew he ought to just sit here and eat his cookies and stay away from his very lovely—and dangerous—neighbor. But he found himself consumed with curiosity to find out how things went for Gabi beyond this hastily penned note.
“Do you want to go for a walk?”
The dog yawned and planted his head down across his front paws. Trace shook his head in exasperation. “Too bad. We’re going.”
He grabbed the leash off the hook by the door and fastened it around the dog’s collar, then surveyed his kitchen. He needed more of an excuse to drop by her house than merely taking his dog for a walk. When his gaze landed on the basket full of cookies, he smiled and reached into the cupboard for another container. After transferring the cookies from her basket to his container, he rummaged through the cupboard for one of his few precious remaining jars of pepper jelly that Caidy and Destry had made him in the summer. They knew it was his favorite, so every year Caidy put up a dozen jars just for him. He cherished each one but he was willing to part with one if it would get him through Becca’s door.
By the time he hooked the leash on the dog’s collar, Grunt had perked up a bit and shuffled around impatiently for Trace to unlock the door. The snow had stopped, he was glad to see. This had definitely been a record-breaker of a December so far. The snowmobilers were loving it.
Somebody with a snowblower had cleared all the sidewalks on the street, he was grateful to see. He followed the ridged tracks all the way to Wally Taylor’s old house. Her curtains were open, and as he approached the house he saw her inside on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket with a book spread open on her lap, a lamp lit beside her and the Christmas tree lights sending shifting colors across her features.
Something hungry and insistent curled low in his gut. He wanted her, wanted this. The whole picture: a cozy fire on a bitter winter’s night, a comfortable house made welcoming for the holidays and especially the warm and lovely woman waiting for him at the end of a hard day.
He didn’t want these feelings, particularly not for a woman who didn’t trust him and who pushed him away at every opportunity, but he was very much afraid it was too late.
She looked up from her book at that precise moment and her gaze met his through the frost-filigree glass of her window. Her eyes widened with surprise and something else. He wanted to think she was happy to see him but he couldn’t be sure.
He gestured toward the front door, then walked up onto the porch to wait for her to open it. When she did, her features were wary.
“Trace! Come in. It’s freezing out there.”
“I’ve got my dog. Do you mind if I bring him inside?”
“You have a dog?”
“Well, I’ve always assumed he’s a dog, though he might be a mutant goblin of some sort.”
She gazed down at his funny-looking dog with a look of fascination. “He’s welcome to come inside.”
Warmth enfolded him as he walked inside the house that smelled of Christmas, of pine trees and cookies and cinnamon.
“He’s, um, an interesting-looking dog.”
“He was your grandfather’s, actually. Grunt, this is Becca.”
The dog belched a greeting and Becca smiled a little before turning back to Trace. “What kind of dog is, um, Grunt?”
“The vet says French bulldog, mostly, with a few other breeds thrown in just to muddy the waters.”
“Ah. Is everything okay? Please don’t tell me you just found out Gabi’s been spreading some other kind of lie. I don’t think I can handle more.”
He laughed, though he was thinking again how foolish he had been to come here. “No. Grunt needed to get out so I thought I would return your basket and tell you thanks for the cookies.”
“That was all Gabi’s idea. She insisted we take some to you.”
“We shared one before we walked over and it was delicious. I’m not sure I can eat a dozen sugar Christmas trees on my own but I’ll do my best.”
She smiled. “I told Gabi it might be too many but she wanted you to have a basketful. You can always take them into the station for the other officers.”
“I might do that.” He paused and decided he might as well be honest. “Okay, returning your basket was only an excuse. Though I did include some of my prized pepper jelly.”
“You make pepper jelly?”
“No. My sister and niece do. But I certainly prize it.”
She genuinely laughed at that, something he considered a major accomplishment. “Okay. Why did you need an excuse?”
“I had to know how things went today for Gabi. Did the other girls shun her after she told the truth, that she wasn’t sick?”
“No, actually.” She returned to her seat on the sofa and he took that as invitation to sit down in the easy chair. Grunt sniffed around the house, probably looking for some lingering trace of his previous master, poor thing. “She said a few of the girls were angry but most of them seemed happy she wasn’t really dying. Gabi said their reactions will help her know which girls are really her friends.”
“How about Destry? Was she one of the angry ones?”
Becca’s expression softened. “Gabi said she was one of the kindest of the girls. She even invited Gabi to a sleepover during the Christmas holidays.”
He was grateful he wouldn’t have to have a sit-down talk with his niece about compassion and forgiveness. “Des has faced her own rough road. Her mother walked out on her when she was just a toddler and I think that might have made her more compassionate than most kids her age.”
“That can happen.” She studied him for a long moment. “Are you just coming home from work, then? It’s nine o’clock.”
This was becoming a habit, seeing her at breakfast and then again at the end of the day. He probably shouldn’t find such comfort in that.
“Yeah. It’s been a crazy day. Slide-offs and fender-benders. For some reason, people completely lose all good sense when it snows.”
“Did you eat dinner?”
“Not yet. I’ll find something when I head home.”
“I made soup tonight for dinner. Minestrone and breadsticks. We’ve got tons of leftovers. If you’d like, I could heat you up a bowl.”
His stomach grumbled and he realized he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, the last meal she’d served him.
“I didn’t come here for you to fix me dinner, Becca.”
Why did you come here? She didn’t speak the words but he could see the question plainly in her eyes. He hoped she didn’t ask, as he wasn’t entirely sure he could answer.
“I’m happy to do it. Consider it my little way of helping the police department.”
While she headed into the kitchen without waiting for him to answer, he shrugged out of his coat and draped it over a chair. Grunt jumped into Trace’s recently vacated chair as if it had been his customary place.
“You miss him, don’t you, bud?”
The grouchy dog gave a cross between a whine and a sigh and closed his eyes. Out of sheer curiosity, Trace picked up the thick book she had been reading and just about fell over at the title and the contents.
He carried the heavy legal journal into the kitchen and held it up. “Nice, relaxing reading for a winter’s evening.”
Her lips parted and her hands froze in the process of spooning soup into a bowl. He thought he saw embarrassment and perhaps a trace of guilt flit across her features. “I’m hoping to be accepted into the Idaho bar in the next few months,” she said, almost defiantly. “As part of the process of reciprocal admission, I have to take some self-study classes on Idaho state law and procedures.”
He stared at her, completely floored. Everything he thought he knew about her had just been shaken and tossed out the window.
“You’re an attorney?”
“Yes. I have been for three years. But I can’t technically practice in Idaho until I complete the process.”
“What’s an Arizona attorney doing slinging hash at a diner in tiny Pine Gulch, Idaho?”
She looked away, focusing her attention on the bowl in front of her. “That’s a really long story. Do you want some grated romano cheese in your soup?”
Trace had plenty of experience with evasion in his profession and he knew sometimes the best strategy was to exercise a little patience. “Yes. Thank you.”
For the next few moments, he was busy enjoying the very savory and delicious soup, rich in vegetables and broth. She heated up several breadsticks for him and slid them onto a plate, then sat down across the little table from him.
“So what’s the story, Becca?” he finally asked.
She sighed. “After my, um, grandfather left me the house, I decided Gabi and I could both use a change. This was a good opportunity for us. That’s all.”
“That’s your long story?”
“The CliffsNotes version, anyway.”
As he tried to reconcile this new picture of her, he realized the image of her as a lawyer gelled much more clearly in his mind than as a waitress. He knew many very clever and savvy waitresses but he had always sensed Becca didn’t quite fit in that venue.
He also was smart enough to figure out there was more to her story than her very brief explanation.
“And Gabi’s father? Where does he fit into the story?”
Her eyes flared with shock at the question but she hid it quickly behind a cool smile. “I believe he was just a minor footnote in the introduction. He’s not in Gabi’s life whatsoever and hasn’t been for years.”
He was happier about that than he ought to be. “Are you intending to open a practice here?” he asked.
“Eventually. That’s the plan, anyway, when I save enough money. I still have some student loans I’m paying off and I’m trying not to go into more debt if I can help it.”
He was definitely happier about that than he ought to be. Not the debt-paying part, though that was certainly honorable, but the part about her wanting to open a practice in Pine Gulch.
“What sort of law?”
“In Phoenix, I was involved in contract law. Real estate, specifically. I imagine if I want to practice in a small town like Pine Gulch, I’ll have to branch out into whatever my clients might need.”
He was still having trouble processing all this. “You said you were a real-estate attorney in Phoenix. Were you working for a firm there or did you have your own practice?”
She looked toward the fire, not meeting his gaze. “I was an associate in a large firm.”
“Was it tough to walk away from Phoenix? You probably had clients you’d worked with for a while there.”
She jumped to her feet and headed to the fire to add a log from the small stack on the hearth. “We needed a new start,” she repeated, her voice firm, and again he sensed there was more to the story. Her features were taut with fine-etched tension. She wasn’t telling him something. He sensed it instinctively but he could think of no way to persuade her to trust him with her problems.
Grunt whined suddenly, probably wondering why Wally Taylor wasn’t the one fueling the fire, why the old man didn’t come shuffling out of the kitchen somewhere.
“I can’t believe you kept my grandfather’s dog,” she said with a rueful shake of her head.
“I was afraid the local shelter wouldn’t be able to find someone else to adopt him. He’s not the most attractive dog.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” she murmured dryly. Ugly dog or not, she walked toward the chair where the dog was now looking mournfully around the room. She scratched him on the scruff and Grunt sniffed her with considerable reserve on his smashed features. He apparently decided she would do because he darted his tongue out and licked her hand, a show of acceptance Trace wasn’t sure he’d earned yet.
“He’s really quite adorable, in a hideous sort of way.”
He gave her a considering look. “Would you and Gabi like to adopt him?” he asked on impulse. “I was just thinking earlier that he needed a house with children in it. Besides that, I’m rarely home and he’s alone all day. I think he’s lonely and I’m sure he would be happier here in the only house he’s ever known.”
Shock flickered in her eyes and her gaze shifted from the dog to him and then back to Grunt again. “I…I don’t…”
“You don’t need to decide right this minute. Think about it. Anyway, it was only an idea. I can always take him out to the ranch. My little sister sort of has a thing for rescuing animals and he might enjoy living with the other dogs.”
“I’ve never had a pet.”
“Really? Never? Not even when you were a kid?”
“No. We…we were never in one place long enough to take care of an animal. My father died when I was small and my mom raised me alone. She…moved around a lot.”
He found that inexpressibly sad. What sort of childhood must she have endured, always on the go? He felt blessed all over again that his parents had created such a warm and loving home for him in Pine Gulch, full of horses and art and music and unending acceptance.
Maybe that was the reason she had moved here, the chance to give her daughter the stable, comfortable home she’d never had.
“Well, give it some thought. If you think you and Gabi would like to make a home for Grunt here, let me know. He’s house-trained and obedient, for the most part. A little on the lazy side but that’s not a bad thing in a little dog. He doesn’t bark much and despite his unfortunate looks, he’s loyal to a fault.”
He paused, debating his words before deciding to tell her. “When I found your grandfather, Grunt was stretched out at his feet. I don’t think he had moved for that entire twenty-four hours from when Wally died and I found him. First thing he did was run to his water dish and lap up every drop.”
She gazed at the dog again, her eyes soft. He saw clear longing there, despite the dog’s scrunchy face and permanent scowl, but indecision flickered there, too. “Right now it’s all I can do to take care of Gabi, you know? I’ve been thinking we need to get a cat to take care of the mice. A dog, though. I’m not sure I can add another creature into the mix.”
“Maybe when things settle down. I’ll keep the offer on the table.”
“Thank you.”
He rose and Grunt rose with him. “We should probably be going. You and I have both got early days tomorrow. Thank you for the soup and the cookies.”
“It’s small recompense for all you’ve done for us since we arrived in Pine Gulch.” She was quiet for a moment, then she gave him that rare, full-fledged genuine smile that always seemed to take his breath away. “You’ve really made us feel welcome, Trace.”
“I hope you give Pine Gulch a chance, Becca. It’s a nice town. Even for lawyers.”
She shook her head, giving Grunt one last pat as Trace shrugged back into his coat.
At the door, he paused and on impulse reached out and folded her fingers in his. “I’m just going to say this, okay? You can take it any way you want but just know that it’s sincere. I hope you know that if you’re ever in any kind of trouble, you can always come to me.”
She blinked, clearly startled. “I…thank you.”
“I mean it, Becca.” Whatever was putting those shadows in her eyes, that strain in her features, he knew he probably couldn’t fix it but he could at least let her know she had somebody else in her corner.
“Thank you,” she murmured again.
He should just have grabbed his ugly little dog and headed out into the night. He might have, but then the light in her entry reflected in her eyes and he saw the glimmer of tears there and he was lost.
With that same unrelenting sense of inevitability, he sighed, released Grunt’s leash and reached for her. She gasped a little and then settled against him, her body soft and yielding, and he lowered his mouth to hers.