Running Blind (37 page)

And she’d wondered if anyone else knew about them. If they saw him looking at her this way they’d most definitely know something was going on.

But for right now, he was smiling at the both of them.

L
IBBY SAT AT
the dining room table and watched the men around her. Being here was both familiar and strange, because she knew these men almost as well as she knew herself. They had been in her care for years—well, except for Spencer, who wasn’t that long from his mother’s care. Once the round of enthusiastic greetings and hugs had subsided, the hands she’d fed for so long settled down to eat what was, she admitted, a tasty and healthy meal. She’d always had such a hard time getting the men to eat vegetables, but they dug into what was served, even the green beans.

She’d heard through the Battle Ridge grapevine that Zeke had been getting chummy with the new cook and housekeeper. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been meaning to
visit, anyway, but the news had spurred her on. What if Carly Hunt was a gold digger, out to take Zeke for all he was worth? What if she was using him?

Her brain said that Zeke Decker could take care of himself, that he was too sharp to let himself be fooled by a pretty face again after his experience with his ex-wife, but the fact was Zeke was a man, and more than one smart man had been blinded by sex. So despite what her brain had told her, her heart had insisted she check out this new housekeeper.

Right now, Libby was reserving judgment. You couldn’t see the truth of someone right off the bat, but so far she hadn’t seen anything bad. Carly had done more work in the past hour than Libby had seen Rachel do in the months she’d been here, but her work ethic could be a part of a scam. She might be trying to make herself appear to be the perfect candidate for ranch wife, and then as soon as the ring was on her finger she’d change her tune.

Of course, exactly what would she gain? Zeke’s lifestyle was far from extravagant. There was money in a ranch this size, if it was properly managed, which Zeke’s was. But how would Carly necessarily know this? Unless she had experience with ranches, which from what everyone said she definitely didn’t, she’d think Zeke was getting by. And even then—a con would mean grab the money and run, not sign on for what Libby knew was months of a lot of hard work.

The hands at the table all seemed to like Carly, and the way Zeke looked at her—well, all she could say was, Libby genuinely hoped Carly Hunt wasn’t a scam artist, wasn’t a gold digger. If she was genuine, if she truly cared about him the way he obviously cared about her, then she was just what the doctor ordered.

Carly left the table to fetch dessert, and returned with a tall white layer cake with fluffy white icing. Libby eyed it
with hidden misgiving. What was Carly thinking? After all this time, didn’t she know these men preferred chocolate, in any form, any day of the week? Were they just being polite when they acted as if they couldn’t wait for a slice of that cake?

Carly placed the cake before Zeke, who started to cut it while she returned to the kitchen for decaf. Walt said something about the “Never Fail White Cake” and Patrick laughed.

Dear God, was that
the
Never Fail White Cake? Libby’s eyed widened. “Oh my God!” she blurted, then clapped a hand over her mouth. She’d tried the recipe once—
once—
but thank God she’d been smart enough to do a taste test before serving it. Okay, it had simply looked good, she’d been hungry, so she’d cut herself a slice to tide her over until dinner. The cake had been like rubber and she’d tossed it in the garbage before anyone had seen. She’d never tried that recipe again. Maybe she should’ve scribbled a warning note in the margins of that page.

Carly paused, alarm on her face. “What?”

There was nothing to do now but explain. “I tried that recipe once. The cake was like
rubber
! It was awful. I threw the cake in the garbage and never mentioned it to anyone.”

Everyone burst out laughing. Carly’s mouth fell open in astonishment. “That’s exactly what it was like the first time I made it!”

“You mean you
kept
making it?”

“I’d never made a cake before, so I thought it was something I’d done wrong. All of my cooking is an experiment in progress.” Carly shrugged. “I just keep at it until I come up with something that’s edible.”

The men were grinning. Plates laden with large slices of cake were passed around the table. Libby accepted a plate, staring at the thick, fluffy white cake. She waited until she had a cup of coffee sitting in front of her before
she took a bite of the cake, because she wanted something handy to wash it down, if needed. She took a small bite.

Everyone was openly watching her. The cake melted in her mouth. Her eyes rounded. “Holy crap, this is good,” she blurted. “You have to show me what you did.”

She took a bigger bite of the cake, and looked up just as Carly and Zeke shared a quick glance that was obviously not meant to be observed. Zeke’s gaze was warm, and Carly’s was … did she know she got that soft look in her eyes when she looked at him?

Okay, maybe she was genuine. Maybe she truly cared about Zeke. Libby wasn’t completely convinced, but she had to take into account that the men here weren’t fools, and they all seemed to really like the girl, and she appeared to like them as well. Maybe Zeke Decker had once again somehow twisted and mauled circumstances until they gave him exactly what he wanted.

I
T WAS TIME
. It was past time. Zeke had held off on taking this step for weeks, even though he knew he didn’t have any choice. If he kept his promise to Carlin, if he didn’t try to help her, she’d move on in a few weeks and be no better off than she’d been when she’d arrived in Battle Ridge. If he could convince her to stay it would be a different matter. He’d do everything he could to protect her, but damn it all to hell and back, he couldn’t protect her if she wasn’t fucking
here
.

If he could help her she’d hate him—but she’d be safe, and that was the most important thing.

A second trip to town in as many days was unusual, but he didn’t want Carlin or Libby or anyone else on his heels when he walked into the sheriff’s auxiliary office, a sterile, boxy, newish building not far from the grocery store. He was in luck. Billy Nelson was working the Battle Ridge office today. He and Billy had gone to school together, and the deputy could be trusted to keep his word—and to keep his mouth shut, if that was asked of him.

Zeke asked for privacy, and they went into a small room and closed the door. If the receptionist at the front desk thought it was strange, she didn’t let it show. She had her
hands full with paperwork of some sort, files and folders and an ancient-looking computer.

He and Billy sat in matching uncomfortable chairs, and after asking for discretion—which Billy promised—Zeke told everything he knew about Carlin’s past: Brad, Jina, Dallas, a nameless small town on the outskirts of Houston. He mentioned that Brad was a hacker as well as a cop, and apparently a very talented one, and asked Billy to keep any inquiries to the telephone or snail mail.

Zeke hadn’t been sure what kind of reception he’d get, but Billy took the news seriously enough.

“I’ll be hampered by not using the computer, but I’ll see what I can do. Until then …” Billy reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “I have a cousin in Cheyenne who’s a private investigator. Maybe he’ll be able to do things I can’t.”

“Such as?” Zeke asked as he watched Billy scrawl a name and phone number on the back of his own card.

“There’s not a lot I can do if you don’t file a report, and a report will have to be official. If this guy is a cop, and a hacker to boot, I don’t see how we could keep it a secret from him. Battle Ridge is a small town. He wouldn’t have any trouble finding Carly. I’d be surprised if there are three people on main street who wouldn’t recognize her picture.”

Zeke took the card, wondering if he was doing the right thing, knowing that he had to do something. He’d call the PI from his cell. Even if Brad somehow found out that a private investigator in Cheyenne was looking into him—and Carlin—investigations originating in the larger city wouldn’t lead him straight to the Decker Ranch. Zeke decided, before he called, to warn the PI and also to make sure there was no personal information stored on that end that might lead Brad to Battle Ridge.

He hated to lie to Carlin, hated it more than he’d
thought he would, but he knew if he told her what he’d done she’d be gone by morning. She’d saved plenty of money in her time working for him and Kat, so she had the means to just pick up and go.

Because he didn’t want her to go, he’d keep his latest actions a secret, for now. With any luck, he’d find out that Brad was dead or in jail, no longer a danger to Carlin or anyone else. But until he got lucky, he’d have to lie to her—lying by omission, but still, she’d consider it a lie and so would he, if the tables were turned.

His promise, though, had come with a qualifier:
for now
. That time had passed and he knew in his gut that he couldn’t wait any longer. She likely wouldn’t think that was sufficient reason for him to make a move without consulting her, but he damn sure did.

A part of him wanted to call Brad himself, to hunt the bastard down and issue a challenge—
Come and get her, motherfucker, try to get through me
. But this wasn’t the Old West and, unfortunately, “He needed killin’ ” was no longer an acceptable defense.

At the very least, he could see the son of a bitch in jail. Somehow, some way, there was evidence that would convict him of killing Carlin’s friend in Dallas. But if no one was looking, nothing would ever change. It was time to look, and look hard.

L
IBBY HAD SPENT
much of the past three days trying to hold back her impulse to celebrate Zeke’s find in Carly. It never hurt to be cautious. If there was something off about the girl, either in the way she did her job, or in the way she treated Zeke or the hands, Libby wanted to keep an open mind so she could spot it. After three days, she hadn’t spotted a damn thing wrong.

Maybe it was time she stopped looking for flaws.
Maybe, in spite of her initial reservations, Carly was perfect for Zeke. She was funny. She was energetic. She was sassy, and she didn’t take any guff from Zeke, which was a big plus in Libby’s book. That was one thing that had been wrong with Rachel; she hadn’t known how to go toe-to-toe with him, so she’d shown her unhappiness in other ways. Carly gave him as good as she got, and sometimes more. The truly funny thing was that Zeke seemed to enjoy when she shot some smart-ass comment at him.

“Good morning,” Carly said cheerfully when Libby entered the kitchen. It was almost dawn, which made for an early start to the day for anyone, but Carly looked freshly scrubbed and bright-eyed. Coffee was made, something was baking and it smelled wonderful and cinnamony. As she did every morning, the next question was, “What can I get for you?”

Libby said the same thing she did every morning as she headed toward the coffeepot. “Nothing, hon. You have enough to do for these men, without waiting on me, too.”

Carly nodded and got back to work.

Libby sat at the kitchen table and sipped at the coffee, content with everything she’d seen so far. Carly was exactly who she appeared to be, nothing more, nothing less: a good, hardworking woman who had landed right where she needed to be. And, just maybe, the good, hardworking woman Zeke needed by his side.

“What smells so good?” she asked.

“Cinnamon rolls.” Carly rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why my biscuits just don’t turn out right, but the cinnamon rolls always behave just fine.”

“
Homemade
cinnamon rolls?”

“Of course.” Carly didn’t look Libby’s way, but she gave a wry smile. “A few months ago I could barely heat up a can of soup. Now I’m not afraid to try anything, as long as I have a recipe to go by. Well, more accurately, I
may have doubts but why not try anyway?” At that, she did turn to look at Libby. “There is one thing I haven’t dared to try.”

“What’s that?”

“Your chocolate cake. Everyone says it was just wonderful, and I’m afraid anything I did would suck in comparison. Oh—I don’t make pies, either. Same reason, different cook.”

“Kat,” Libby said.

Carly nodded. “I don’t suppose you would make that cake while you’re here so I could see how you do it? I know Zeke—and the others, too—would fall over in fits of gratitude if I could make a chocolate cake half as good as yours.”

Libby tried not to feel flattered. She didn’t try hard, because it was nice to know an old dog still had a few tricks she could teach to the youngster.

Zeke came striding into the kitchen, his gaze landing on Carly and lingering. If they’d been alone in the kitchen, Libby figured Carly would have been kissed until she didn’t know which way was up. It was as if there was a magnetic charge between them. Carly even took a step toward him, then stopped and moved back.

Zeke grabbed a half cup of coffee, downed it, and headed for the mudroom.

“Half an hour before breakfast,” Carly said. “Don’t let it get cold.”

“We’ll be here.” He stopped in the middle of the kitchen, took a long, deep breath, and grinned. “Cinnamon rolls.”

Carly smiled. “Yep.”

He went on into the mudroom and after a second or two, Carly followed. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, to explain why she was following. Soon they were out of sight.

Libby slowly stood up, a sneaky smile creasing her face.
Who did they think they were fooling? She tiptoed to the mudroom door on quiet, slippered feet, and stopped when she was close enough to hear. They weren’t talking, so they were probably enjoying the kiss they’d both wanted but had denied themselves, thanks to her.

The kiss didn’t last a horribly long time. Carly said, in a lowered voice. “Pull that hat down over your ears. I don’t want you getting frostbite.”

“I think I know how to stay warm.” Heavens, when was the last time she’d heard Zeke sound so … relaxed?

“I know you do.” Libby wondered if Carly was straightening Zeke’s coat and hat, making sure he was wellbundled up. “And don’t think you won’t have to eat any eggs for breakfast just because there are cinnamon rolls. You need some protein or else you’ll crash long before lunchtime.”