As Lauren stood contemplating the expiration date on a jar of strawberry jam she found nestled in the back of the fridge, the front door to the cabin opened, admitting a red-haired woman bundled tightly against the cold. She watched as the stranger carefully removed her outerwear and set it neatly in the closet.
“Can I help you?” Lauren asked, having decided against taking a chance on the jam and tossing it into the garbage beneath the sink.
The woman jumped slightly, but recognition soon shone within her light brown eyes. “Oh, you must be the new handler. Hi, I’m Grace Pearson.” She rushed forward to offer her hand to Lauren, but Lauren remained cautious.
“Shane didn’t mention a Grace. Can you tell me a bit more about why you’re here?”
“He wouldn’t, would he? He never mentions much of anything at all. Actually, I don’t know your name yet, either.” She paused.
“Oh, yeah. I’m Lauren.”
“Hello, Lauren the handler. I’m Grace, Mr. Ramsey’s physical therapist. I come by a few times per week to help work his legs and strengthen his back. You’ll be seeing lots of me, I’m afraid.”
Lauren brightened. She’d have a friend in this place after all. “What’s to be afraid of? I’ll be happy for someone to talk to other than Mr. Grump.”
Both women laughed and took a seat at the small kitchen table. Lauren offered Grace some peanut butter and graham crackers, but she declined.
“Mr. Grump is definitely accurate now, but he wasn’t like that before. Such a shame what happened to him.”
“You mean the accident?” Lauren asked, wondering if this particular mystery might be solved more simply that she’d originally thought.
“That too, of course. But…” She frowned and, having apparently changed her mind, reached for the box of graham crackers. She took one long cracker from the package and broke it into quarters. “No, it’s not my place to say.” She shook her head back and forth longer than was natural for the gesture. “He doesn’t talk about things for a reason, and I don’t want to betray his confidence by blabbing on about things that aren’t any of my business.”
“But don’t I have a right to know? I mean, seeing as I’m here living with him? If I’m playing house with a madman, I kind of need to know.”
“Mad?” She resumed the long, slow shaking of her head, then dropped her voice to a whisper. “No, nothing like that. Hurting is more like it. But—“
The two women were interrupted by the arrival of their mutual employer, his sandy hair wet and brushed back neatly from his shower. He’d even shaved, revealing a strong jawline and flawless skin, both of which had previously been hidden by his raggedy beard. He looked nice—at least physically. His expression, though, was far from nice. “That’s enough gossip for today,” he boomed.
“So sorry, Mr. Ramsey. I wasn’t going to say a word about any of it.” Grace ducked her head in apology.
Shane turned fully toward Grace so that his back was to Lauren, effectively shutting her off from the continuing conversation. “My right knee has really been acting up this morning. Can we work it extra today?”
“Whatever you think is best. We’ll get those kinks worked out for you,” Grace said, ever the sycophant. Was she that way because she liked Shane or because she feared him? Maybe it was a bit of both, Lauren decided, as she slathered another cracker with peanut butter and shoved it in her mouth. When she’d had her fill of the cardboard-like lunch, she got up to go back outside with the dogs.
“Where are you going?” Shane asked, acknowledging her for the first time since he’d returned from his shower.
“Back to work,” she said with a full mouth. A few crumbs escaped and fell onto her shirt.
“No,” he said, watching as the crumbs settled on her breast. “Take my car and head into town. Find something decent for us to eat for dinner tonight.”
“What about the dogs?”
“They’ll make do. Tomorrow you’ll exercise them correctly right from the start of the day. Today has already gone to waste anyway, so go do something useful while the sun’s still up.”
Lauren left with one look back toward Shane and Grace, who were setting themselves up on the floor of the living room. Grace was a good-looking woman, and she seemed to do whatever Shane asked of her. Soon her hands would be all over Shane as she helped him work out the kinks, and Shane had sent Lauren out so they’d be alone…
Given all this, Lauren wondered if Grace was just Shane’s physical therapist or something more. More than that, though, she wondered why the sharp pang of jealousy gnawed at her gut.
Shane was horrible—the worst!—so why did she find herself increasingly drawn to him?