chapter Five
Noelle gulped. Did he just say he was taking her up on her offer? She couldn’t think straight with him standing so close, those tawny eyes staring deep into hers. The clean, outdoorsy smell of him clouding her senses.
He must’ve misunderstood. “No, really. I don’t need any help with the ranch. It was just a way to get rid of Ted.”
He lifted the sagging screen door with two fingers and let it drop. “You don’t need help with the ranch?”
“I never meant—”
He put a finger to her lips, and she had to clutch the doorknob behind her.
“I know you said it to get rid of your brother, but it sounds like he’s going to stick around. Buck Ridge is a small town. How are you going to explain the fact that I’m not staying in the guesthouse and helping out?”
Thankfully, he removed his finger from her lips and she could breathe again—and even talk. “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”
“I like your suggestion. I need a place to stay, I’m familiar with ranches, I’m handy and it will keep away that brother of yours.”
She did need help with the ranch. She’d come here to make some improvements and see if she could maybe turn that guesthouse into a studio.
And she had to admit, J.D.’s presence would be a comfort. Her gaze roamed over his lean, muscled frame, and she swallowed. Maybe comfort wasn’t the right word. Security. Safety. She looked into his eyes. Danger.
She could use a little more of that kind of danger in her life. “The guesthouse isn’t much. It has a bathroom with a shower but no kitchen.”
“I’m not much of a cook, anyway. And you don’t have to pay me. The room is enough.”
She shoved at the screen door with her toe. “This place needs a lot of work. I’ll pay you a salary, and you’ll earn it.”
“Deal.” He stuck out his hand. They were standing so close, his fingers brushed her arm.
They shook on it, and Noelle had to snatch her hand back or fall victim to the magnetism between them and never let go. She had to plant her feet back on the ground. “I don’t even know your last name.”
“Davis. Jim Davis. Everyone calls me J.D.”
“Where are you from, J.D.? What are you doing in Buck Ridge?” If she kept up the interrogation, she could ignore these other feelings swirling in her head—feelings traitorous to Alex.
“I’m from Texas. I grew up on a ranch. I was recently discharged from the service. Just trying to figure out what I want to do with my life.”
Military. She could see that. Polite. Stand-up guy. And he had no problem jumping into dangerous situations. He’d be handy to have around in more ways than one.
“Working on a run-down ranch is what you want to do with your life?”
“Not with my life, but right now, it works for me, and it works for you, too.”
“I suppose you want to go back to your hotel and come back tomorrow with your stuff. Or is tomorrow too soon?” She sealed her lips together. Didn’t want to seem too eager to have him here.
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather check it out now and stay there tonight. I’ll get my stuff tomorrow.”
She pressed her back against the door. Could she trust this man? She knew next to nothing about him and yet he’d come to her rescue twice already. Did chivalry motivate him or something else?
Releasing a breath, she ducked around him and snagged the key to the guesthouse from the hook in the kitchen.
“Your castle awaits.”
“Castle?” He lifted an eyebrow in her direction, oblivious that she’d already been thinking of him as a chivalrous knight.
“Maybe I exaggerated. It needs some work, but everything in the bathroom is in working order and it’s furnished.”
“As long as there’s a bed.”
She dropped the key she’d been juggling between her hands and bent over to retrieve it, hiding her warm cheeks in the process. The idea of this man in bed—any bed—lit a fuse under some wicked thoughts that had been dormant for too long.
As her fingers groped for the key chain on the dark porch, J.D. crouched beside her, sweeping his hand across the back of hers.
“Here they are.” He held them up, and they jingled between them. “Do you have a flashlight? I think we’re going to need one if we hope to make it to the guesthouse without tripping over each other.”
She popped up and spun back toward the house, eager to escape his overwhelming presence and the guilt she felt every time the electric current zapped between them.
“I have a flashlight in the closet. I don’t know how I thought we’d get out there without one.”
She stumbled back into the house and grabbed a flashlight from the closet shelf. When she got out to the porch, she shined the light on J.D., leaning against a sagging wood post, tossing the keys in the air and whistling.
But he didn’t fool her. Even in this relaxed stance every fiber of his being seemed to be standing at attention. What had him on edge? Maybe he was suffering from PTSD.
She’d been plagued by the same ailment, and a lot more, after Alex’s murder. If she opened up to J.D. about it, maybe he’d open up to her.
She snorted and aimed her beam of light onto the dirt path to the guesthouse. J.D. was here to work, not get psychoanalyzed.
“Wait up.” He scuffled behind her. “You’re the one with the light.”
She slowed down just enough so that he could catch up to the light but not enough for him to be breathing down her back. He’d probably laugh in her face if he could hear all her ridiculous thoughts about him.
He still had the keys, so when they reached the guesthouse she stopped and illuminated the doorknob.
“No dead bolt here either?” He shoved the key in the lock and turned. He pushed the door open with the toe of his boot.
A musty smell engulfed Noelle as J.D. waved her through the door ahead of him.
“I could’ve cleaned up first if you’d waited a day.” She flicked on a light switch, which turned on a lamp.
“Are there clean sheets on the bed?”
Why did he have to keep saying that word? She snapped her fingers. “No, but I’ll bring them from the house.”
She left him to inspect the rest of the house, and retraced their steps. The flashlight sweeping in front of her, she scurried to the house and grabbed a set of sheets from the linen closet in the hallway. Clutching the sheets to her chest with one arm, she rushed to the guesthouse. She hoped J.D. could make a bed by himself, because she couldn’t face him across a mattress.
She walked into the house, burying her nose in the freshly laundered scent of the sheets to blot out the mustiness of the house. She dropped the pile of linens on the couch, and J.D. turned from inspecting the window.
“Do you think someone’s going to break in here, too?”
He tapped a finger on the glass. “Anything’s possible. If there are...junkies looking for a quick fix they might hit this place, too. Especially once it looks inhabited.”
Noelle assessed J.D.’s strong physique. This time the thieves might get a surprise. Could it really be just a couple of low-level junkies like Sheriff Greavy and her missing meds suggested? Maybe this break-in had nothing to do with the break-in at her place in D.C. Just another ding in her long spiral of bad luck since Alex’s death. She shivered.
“Are you okay?” J.D. dug his cell phone from his front pocket. “Give me your number. I’ll call you and you can add my cell number to your contacts. If anything else happens tonight, give me a call. I don’t think they’ll be back. They got what they came for.”
Did they?
She gave him her number, he called her phone and she stored it under his name. That made their connection seem more real. Of course, having him around the ranch every day would seem pretty real, too.
“I’ll walk you back if you let me take the flashlight. One of my first chores will be to get some floodlights set up on the outside of the ranch.”
“Okay.” She bit her lip and surveyed the room. “You can get to work on this place first if you want.”
“Don’t worry about me. This is fine.” He took her arm and pulled her through the front door. “It’s late. We can work out the rest of the details later.”
Details? They had details to work out? Must be talking about the money.
Once outside on the path back to the ranch house, Noelle shook off J.D.’s light grasp from her arm. She’d been so wary of strangers the past few years and yet she’d invited this man onto her ranch and into her life in less than twenty-four hours of acquaintance. She’d have to fire up her laptop and do a thorough search on Jim Davis. How many millions would she have to sift through to find this one?
J.D. lifted the screen door and held it up while she unlocked the door.
“Here you go.” She handed him the flashlight. “We’ll discuss the rest of the...uh...details tomorrow. You can drop by for breakfast.”
“I’d like that.”
“Good night, then.” She slipped into the house before she could do something foolish. It was too soon after Alex’s death to get romantically involved with someone.
Two years. Was that too soon? Given the circumstances, ten years would be too soon.
She waited a few minutes, her palms flat against the front door. Then she slipped outside and picked her way across the dirt driveway to her truck. She unlocked the passenger door and reached beneath the seat to retrieve her laptop.
Hugging the computer to her chest, she returned to the house and locked the door behind her. Maybe J.D.’s first order of business should be a dead bolt for that front door. Odd that a petty thief or junkie knew how to pick a lock without leaving a trace.
But then, the people who had broken into her place in D.C. hadn’t been too concerned about leaving behind a trail of destruction and upheaval. Maybe she just had a streak of bad luck following her—or picking up on her trail again.
She sighed and plunked the laptop onto the kitchen counter. She powered it on and poured a glass of water.
“Jim Davis.” She said the name as she typed it onto the screen. Realtors, actors, musicians and criminals popped up. She took a sip of water and swished it around in her mouth.
“Jim Davis, Texas.” Hadn’t J.D. mentioned he hailed from Texas? Adding the state narrowed the search but not by much. She tried James Davis without any more luck.
She powered down the laptop and snapped it shut. Too bad her newly acquired ranch hand didn’t have a more unusual name. She dumped the water into the sink and turned off the light in the kitchen.
If she didn’t trust J.D., she could always ask him to leave. But he’d helped her out of a jam—twice. She didn’t care if the stranger had something to hide as long as it didn’t impact her.
She flicked off a few more lights on her way to the bedroom, and then she hit the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. She’d wanted that guesthouse as a studio, but maybe J.D. could fix the basics in there before she removed the furniture and installed a skylight.
She turned down the bed and placed her slippers side by side at the foot of the bed. She straightened the alarm clock, lining up the edge along the grain of wood.
She caught her breath. Closing her eyes, she folded her hands and exhaled through her nostrils. It was the stress. She didn’t need medication. She’d force herself to relax.
She climbed into bed, sliding between the fresh sheets. She reached for the lamp on the nightstand, and her gaze snagged on the picture on the wall across the room. The right corner tilted higher than the left.
Leave it.
She punched the light switch on the base of the lamp. Her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, and she picked out the edge of the picture in the darkness. She squeezed her lids shut.
“Okay, this is it. The last time.” She turned the light back on and threw back her covers.
She stalked toward the picture, gritting her teeth. She grabbed the frame with both hands and inched up the left side. As she slid her fingers off the glass, the pad of her thumb stumbled over a dab of something on the frame.
She ran her fingers across the area again and felt the nodule on the glass. Drawing her brows over her nose, she leaned in for a closer look.
A tiny eye stared back at her.