It Had to Be Love (An It Had to Be Novel) (3 page)

“See you.”

Fascinating? He probably thought she was a serial killer or some
thing. Not someone trying to hide from a sociopathic, computer-
genius ex.

Ryan was related to half the town. If she confessed to him, asked him for help, would he try to dig up her past, or tell everyone else? Her contact at the Denver police had said to tell no one but him if she had any problems. Even a simple Google search of her real name could alert Spencer of her whereabouts. No, she wouldn’t risk it.

As Ryan disappeared through the doors, Tara’s shoulders finally relaxed. It was like the man cast a spell on her sometimes with those pretty eyes of his. She’d almost wiped his mouth, when the last thing she wanted was to touch him again and feel that zap of awareness she had when she’d laid her hand on his arm.

But maybe the embarrassing almost-wiping-of-his-mouth had been a good thing. He’d probably be the one to avoid her in the future instead of vice versa.

She hoped.

A
s soon as Tara finished her meal, Gloria plunked down a piece of chocolate pie, then scooped Ryan’s into a to-go box. “Be a pal and drop this off at Ryan’s house on your way home, will you? Maybe he’ll invite you in and show you what a great job he’s done renovating the cabin. On his own, by the way. He’s really
handy.” She added a wink.

Tara was full, so she put her pie into Ryan’s box too. “I’m sure his
home is lovely, but nothing is going on between me and Ryan, Gloria.
He just forgot something at my office earlier, and I returned it.”

Gloria slid onto the seat across from Tara. “Yeah, but then he stayed and ate dinner with you. Something he never does. He eats alone so he doesn’t have to chitchat. And I saw that big grin there at the end.” Gloria pushed the box closer to Tara’s side. “You have to walk right by his house anyway.”

Tara pushed the box back. “You
trapped
him into eating with me. And he just got called to his grandmother’s house, so Ryan won’t be home anyway, Matchmaker Molly.” She slid out of the booth. “Besides, I have to get home before Sherlock gets too bored and tries to bust himself out under the fence. Will you put Ryan’s meal on my tab too, please?” It was the least she could do after making that the most awkward meal two people had probably ever shared. She had some work to do if she wanted to start dating again. Not that that was a date.

“Will do.” Gloria chuckled as she rose from the booth. “I don’t know, Tara. Never seen him let any other pretty woman almost wipe his chin.”

She groaned. “That was . . . he was numb from earlier . . . oh never mind. See you later.” She grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

That Gloria didn’t miss a trick.

A few minutes later, as she walked past Ryan’s big, beautiful cabin near the lake, she stopped to look. If the inside was as nice as the outside it probably
was
something to see. The wood was freshly varnished, it had a shiny new blue tin roof, and he had pots of blue, red, and yellow wildflowers strategically placed at the front porch. Touches a woman would think of, not usually a man. It didn’t match his so-called strong-but-silent personality.

Her cell rang, pulling her back to the present and pointing out that she was standing in front of the man’s house staring like a stalker. He’d think she was one of those next. She didn’t need to give him any more ideas about the “mysterious criminal past” he seemed to always be searching for. She dug her phone out of her purse and glanced at the screen.

Her overprotective mother.

She considered letting it go to voice mail, but then her parents would worry and call out the National Guard. She started walking again and poked the green button. “Hello, Mother. How are you?”

“Annoyed with your father as usual. Checking in to be sure you’ve been pushing your comfort zone like the doctors said.”

Tara sucked in a deep breath for patience. “I’m thirty-three, not ten. And I’m fine.”

“You always say you’re fine even when you aren’t. And it’s beyond me how anyone can live that far from a Nordstrom. Maybe we’ll come for a visit and check out this little town for ourselves?”

“No! It’s too soon. You both still forget to call me Tara. You guys really need to work on that or you’ll ruin everything. I’ll see you at Laura’s wedding soon anyway.”

Her mother became quiet, which was never a good thing. Nefarious plotting usually occurred during those pauses. “We’re just worried about you being all alone there, Jamie.”

She really couldn’t blame her mother for the name slip. Or for worrying after what Spencer had done to her. He’d had her parents as fooled as she’d been. He’d even been a top executive in her father’s company. Everyone thought Spencer was the nicest guy in the world, not the monster he turned out to be. “Then you’ll be happy to know I had dinner with a man tonight.” That wasn’t a lie and it was for a good cause. To help her mother relax.

“You did? Can you be sure he’s . . . safe?”

“He’s lived here his whole life. I’m friends with his sisters—I’ve told you about Meg and Casey—and he’s the sheriff. Can’t get much safer than that, right?” Except for the part about him digging around in her past.

“I guess not.” Her mother made a humming noise. “He’ll do for a transitional man, but you can’t possibly have a long-term relationship with someone . . . in public service, can you?”

Public service? Her mother was such a snob.

“It was just dinner.”

“Well, dinners lead to more dinners and then so on. What happened to the date you were going to have with that doctor? He’d be more the type your father and I would choose for you.”

“No doubt. Sorry, I need to let you go now, so say hello to Dad for me, and thanks for calling. We’ll talk soon. Bye.”

She quickly ended the call, thankful she’d held off one more of her mother’s attempts to invite herself for a visit. She just hoped she could keep her parents away so her secret would be safe. Her father was a powerful man who was used to getting his way. And he was just as bad about calling her Jamie as her mother.

But she needed to stay hidden.

Ryan jogged down his grandmother’s long gravel drive and found her on the shore of the lake peering through the scope of her Remington. Her cane rested against her leg.

He didn’t want to startle her, so he called out quietly, “Grandma? We need to talk.”

“Go away. I’ve got me another trespasser. I’m gonna scare the pants off of this one so he never sniffs around here again.”

“I’d rather you put down that gun.”

“This is my land, and I’ve got the proper signs posted. You know as well as I do I can legally shoot anyone on it who doesn’t belong!” She squinted her eyes and shifted the gun. “You’ve been awful cranky lately. What’s up with that?”

Him, cranky? His tall, feisty grandmother cornered the market on cranky. And a few other things like stubborn, short-tempered, and crafty. But she’d helped raise him and his brother and sisters after their mother had died and he loved her more than anyone else.

He worked some false mean into his growl. “I’m serious, Grandma.” Grams was one of the best shots in the state, but she was getting older and might actually hurt someone.

“Was that supposed to scare me?” She lowered her gun and laughed. “Oh, all right. You get five minutes to go and shoo that damn Grant off my land before I shoot the both of you. Now, get!”

“Grandma—”

“Clock’s ticking, boy!”

“Fine. I’m going.”

What was making him cranky lately was all the trouble that damn note being unearthed had caused. It had the whole town in a digging frenzy.

He slipped behind his grandmother’s house and toward the sounds of a pick rhythmically hitting dirt. His grandmother made it her duty to keep the rivalry alive between his family and the Grants, a rivalry that dated back to the day the town was founded. Her feisty side loved keeping the pot stirred within the factions.

Near a stand of trees that formed a triangle with the biggest tree at its center, the old guy who used to run the gypsum mine just outside town took another swing. Ryan called out, “Hey there, Pete.”

The man stopped swinging and pulled a red rag from his back pocket to wipe his brow. “Whadda you want?”

Pete had about as much respect for anyone with the last name of Anderson as Ryan’s grandmother did for the Grants. “You’re trespassing. Best to grab your things and go before my grandmother starts shooting.”

“Nope.” Pete spat chewing tobacco juice on the ground next to Ryan’s boot. “That note was written by an Anderson, but it said anyone who found where the box is hidden could keep the spoils. The way I see it, that was an Anderson giving special permission to hunt on the land in question.”

A loud gunshot echoed through the air just before a bullet thumped into the bark of a tree three feet above Pete’s head. He spun around to inspect the damage. “That crazy old bat.”

Ryan stood perfectly still. It was safer.

Straining to keep a straight face, he said, “She has been acting a little more crazy than usual lately. Maybe even a little unstable.”

Another shot rang out before a puff of dirt flew up two feet from Pete’s shoe. “Well, hell. Then I’m outta here. For now anyway.” He scooped up his pickax and bucket filled with smaller tools before he called out, “You’re a loony tune, Ruth, and everyone knows it!”

Ryan’s grandma answered with a shot that knocked Pete’s bucket clean out of his hand. Pete dropped his pickax and turned tail to run.

Ryan lifted a hand over his head in farewell to his grandmother. Surely she was watching through her scope and was laughing her butt off. His grandma could press charges but she wouldn’t. She had more fun shooting at the trespassers than having them arrested.

He’d probably have to take her guns away soon. But this way, the situation was done and over with. It might have gotten ugly if he’d had to arrest the old guy.

He hit Main Street and spotted Mrs. Wright juggling three cloth grocery bags. He crossed the street and called out, “Let me help you with those.”

“Well, this is handy.” She handed him two bags. “A big strapping lad to save the day.”

He held out his hand for the third sack. “That one too.” While only in her fifties, she had debilitating arthritis that had left her hands as twisted as claws. “You shouldn’t be carrying these on your own.”

“I could’ve made it, but won’t turn down the help.” She handed the last bag over. “I often wonder why my daughter didn’t choose a nice man like you instead of Ed, Ryan.”

He often wondered that too. But he was done pining for Sarah. “To each their own I guess.”

He slowed his pace and matched hers until they reached her house, grateful Sarah’s mom was about as quiet a person as he was and didn’t feel the need for idle chatter.

He followed her inside and put the bags on the counter in the kitchen. “Need any help putting stuff away?”

“Nope.” She patted his arm with her gnarled hand. “Some lucky girl is going to hit the jackpot with you one day, Ryan. Thank you for the help.”

“Welcome. Take care.”

He closed the door behind him and walked down the hill toward his house, hoping she was right. Little did she know, he’d recently made it his mission to move on and find a woman who wanted to settle down and have kids too. He loved spending time with his niece and nephews and he was ready to have a few kids of his own. He’d always wanted a nice family, like his friends had growing up. He’d never be a distant, cold father like his own.

Ryan checked his mailbox and grabbed the two envelopes inside before he sat on his front porch and tugged off his boots. He hadn’t spent hours refinishing his wood floors just to scuff them up again.

He’d finally finished the renovations that had taken him four years to complete. He’d held out hope that maybe Sarah would see the mistake she’d made by marrying someone as cold as Ed, and he’d have another chance with her. Evidentially she loved Ed enough to put up with the way he treated her.

Now it looked like he might end up selling the place back to his family and moving to Denver if one of his job applications hit.

Padding inside in his stocking feet, he headed straight for his den to fire up his computer. He wanted to check on his job applications, and then figure out what was going on with Tara.