I Cross My Heart (2 page)

She stared at him as if he’d said something terminally stupid, which of course he had, but that was the idea. She didn’t seem inclined to joke around, though. Too bad.

Swiping at her eyes with the back of her free hand, she looked him up and down. “Who are you and why are you here?”

“The name’s Nash Bledsoe. I work at the Last Chance, and the foreman saw smoke and asked me to investigate. He thought trespassers might be causing a problem.”

“Oh.” She gazed up at the smoke spiraling into the blue sky as if only now realizing that it might be noticed by others. “Sorry about that. Everything’s fine. I’m not a trespasser. I own the place. Lucky me.”

She probably was the daughter, then. He could have left it at that and headed back to the Last Chance, but he decided not to. The smoke was a pollutant, and he still didn’t know why she’d set fire to the chair. “Look, it’s obvious that you want to get rid of this piece of furniture, but your method is spewing bad stuff into the air.”

“I didn’t think of that.” She glanced at the smoke and the blackened, shriveled leather. “I’ll bet there’s not a working fire extinguisher around this place, either.”

“I happen to have one in my truck. I’ll get it.”

She hesitated, as if reluctant to accept his help.

He gave her an encouraging smile. “That’s really the way to go. Once I’ve sprayed it with foam, we can figure out how to get it out of here and into the landfill where it belongs.”

“Maybe I’ll just dig a hole and bury it.”

“Would take a big hole.”

“That’s okay. Digging it would feel good.”

He looked into her bloodshot eyes and recognized the same kind of rage, grief and frustration he’d been trying to work off by mucking out stalls. He didn’t have to ask her any more questions, after all. She was mad at somebody, probably the person who’d spent time in this chair. Odds were that would have been her late father.

The combination of anger and sorrow could make people do strange things, and he certainly understood that. She seemed to recognize that she’d found a kindred spirit, because some of the defiance left her expression. As her gaze mellowed, she looked really nice, even with her mascara running and her hair all sweaty.

“I’ll get the extinguisher,” he said. “We can go from there.”

“Okay.” Her voice had grown softer, too. “Thanks.”

He felt a smile coming on as he hurried back to the truck. He hadn’t been any woman’s hero in a very long time, and he’d missed that.

After he slimed the chair, he’d see if she had a tarp. He didn’t want to load that gross thing into the back of the ranch truck without one, but if he could put it on something, he could drive straight to the landfill. She didn’t need to dig a hole and bury the chair. Surely there were other menial chores around this wreck of a place where she could work out her emotions.

He returned with the extinguisher. “You might want to stand back while I do this.”

She backed up several steps. Considering the uneven dirt in the front yard, she navigated well on those überhigh heels. She must be used to them.

“I guess you think I’m a lunatic for trying to burn this recliner,” she said.

“No, actually, I don’t. I know something about being so furious that you have to find a good target for your anger.”

“That about sums up my little stunt, but now it seems pretty juvenile.”

“Not at all. I think it had flair.” He pointed the extinguisher at the recliner. Slowly circling it, he layered on the foam. At last he was satisfied. “That should do it.” He glanced over and noticed her tiny smile. She had a full, prettily shaped mouth. She’d probably clean up real good. “Feeling any better?”

“I am, actually.”

“Excellent.” He cleared his throat. “So you’re the daughter?”

She nodded.

“I thought so. But I’ve gone and forgotten your first name. I was a few years ahead of you in school.”

“You wouldn’t have remembered me, anyway. I was an awkward nerd back then. A certified late bloomer.” Her smile widened a little. “I remember you, though, Nash Bledsoe. You were quite the heartthrob.”

To his dismay, he felt heat rising from his collar. “I don’t know about that. Anyway, is your last name still Grace, or something else, now?” If she was married, he didn’t think much of a husband who’d send her off to deal with this situation by herself.

“My last name is still Grace.” She gazed at him thoughtfully. “I take it you haven’t heard anything about my career, then?”

“Sorry, I haven’t. Emmett just said you’d become a city girl.”

“Well, that’s humbling. But then, I lost touch with everyone back here, and my folks weren’t much for socializing, or bragging, for that matter.”

“About what?”

“I’m a bestselling author. My latest book hit number one on all the lists.”

His stomach clenched. But no, it couldn’t be. Coincidences like this didn’t happen in real life. “What do you write?”

“Motivational books. Self-help, is how most people refer to them.”

His throat went dry and his heart began to pound. “You’re
Bethany Grace?
” The name came out as a hoarse croak.

“So you
have
heard of me!” She looked pleased.

“Oh, yeah.” He felt light-headed. “I’ve heard of you. Your books made my life a living hell.”

2

B
ETHANY
GASPED
. S
HE
’
D
had many reactions to her books in the three years since she’d first hit the bestseller charts, but no one had ever said anything that awful. Nash wasn’t kidding, either. His blue eyes had iced over and his expression had turned to granite.

She’d just been thinking what a good-looking guy he’d turned into, and a kind one, at that. She’d found herself admiring the strong line of his jaw and the sensual curve of his lower lip. Because she’d outgrown her nerdy phase, she’d felt capable of flirting a little with the likes of Nash Bledsoe, if he wasn’t attached.

But instead she’d discovered that her cheerful and positive message had created such fury in him that he’d barely been able to speak her name. To know that her books had done that made her physically ill. She hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday, which was probably good, because she had nothing in her rolling stomach that could come back up.

His bitter words had sucked most of the air from her lungs, too, but she finally managed to draw in enough to ask a question. “How did my books do that?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I’d rather not get into it.”

“Please, don’t hit me with something like that and refuse to tell me why! No one’s ever... I’ve never had anyone tell me...” She took a shaky breath. “You look as if you
hate
me.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face and gazed up at the sky. “Bethany Grace.” He chuckled, but the sound had no humor in it. Then he looked at her again. “My ex-wife loves your books.”

From the way he said it, Bethany knew that wasn’t a good thing. “Okay.”

He studied her for long enough that she became very aware of how sweaty and dirty she was. And how foolish this stunt of hers must look to him, now that he knew she was the author of bestsellers such as
Living with Grace
and her current chart-topper,
Grace Personified.
She’d always been proud of her success, but given this situation, she should have kept her mouth shut. Today was the wrong time for her to be in the glare of a spotlight that would reveal her flaws.

Too late. “I suppose you’re wondering if I’m a hypocrite.”

“It crossed my mind. I can’t figure out why a woman who tells everyone that
happiness is a choice
would set fire to her daddy’s recliner. That doesn’t seem like a particularly cheerful move, to me.” He was obviously enjoying pointing that out.

She flushed. “It wasn’t. I’m not proud of my reaction. It was unworthy of me to do that.”

His expression underwent a subtle change, as if that admission had soaked up some of his anger. “But oh, so very human.”

“You don’t have to sound so smug when you say that.”

This time his chuckle was a little less caustic. “Yeah, I do. Whether you know it or not, you owe me a bit of smugness.”

“What happened?”

He hesitated.

“Please. Your statement will eat at me if you don’t explain where it came from.”

He blew out a breath. “Okay. Short version. My in-laws were convinced that I’d only married Lindsay for her money. I think they finally convinced Lindsay, too, because she developed an attitude. She made it plain that a poor boy like me was lucky to be there.”

“Ouch.”

“I realize now her parents started the sabotage early and gradually turned up the heat, the way you cook a frog without the frog even noticing. I became more and more irritable. Then Lindsay found your books and felt free to remind me that H
appiness Is a Choice
.
”

She was appalled. “That’s
not
how my books are supposed to be read. You can’t undermine someone’s confidence and then berate them for not being happy enough.”

“Tell that to Lindsay and her folks.”

“I will if you’d like me to. I resent that they—”

“I didn’t mean that literally. Don’t waste your time on them. But I have to admit, seeing you in the middle of a meltdown helps. Even the sainted Bethany Grace has a bad day once in a while.”

“Sainted? I never claimed to be perfect!”

“Lindsay thinks you are. As opposed to me, a person riddled with problems.”

“That’s ridiculous. We all have problems. I’ve admitted that in everything I’ve written.” Then she had a thought. “Did
you
ever read one of my books?”

“One chapter.”

She tried to remember if she’d admitted any problems in Chapter One of
Living with Grace
or the earlier books. Maybe not. “Then you stopped reading?”

“Then I threw the book against the wall.”

She winced.

“Sorry, but you have to remember this was a book recommended by the woman who, with the help of her folks, was mentally torturing me. I could only take so much of the rainbows and lollipops you were handing out.”

“All things considered, you probably won’t ever make it through an entire book of mine, and I don’t blame you. But somewhere in
Living with Grace,
maybe toward the middle, I admit to having a temper, and you’ve just seen me demonstrate that.”

Nash glanced at the now-soggy recliner. “Pretty impressive, too. Those old recliners are heavy suckers. How long did it take you to drag it out here?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t keeping track of time. I drove into the yard, walked up the rickety porch steps, went inside, saw the state of things in there and...lost it.”

“You didn’t know it was this bad?”

She sighed, remembering all the should-haves she’d ignored in the past year and a half. “I suspected. My parents were never savvy about the ranching business and the Triple G operated in the red quite a bit. When I started making decent money, I sent checks home.” And she should have come herself. “Obviously the money wasn’t used to maintain the ranch.”

“Why didn’t your dad get some advice from his neighbors? I’m sure anyone at the Last Chance would have been glad to—”

“Not my dad’s style. He didn’t like to admit he was deficient in any area. That’s why he and my mom didn’t mingle. He didn’t feel equal to the other ranchers, so he kept to himself. Rejected any offer of help. I saw him do it several times. Eventually people stopped trying.”

“That’s sad.”

“Incredibly sad.” She glanced around her. “You see the result. After my mom died a year and a half ago, my dad started drinking a lot, apparently. Whenever I’d suggest coming home for a visit, he’d discourage me. To be honest, I wasn’t eager to be here without my mom. She was always the more positive influence. And my career was heating up, so...I used that as an excuse.”

“Understandable.”

She appreciated that one-word comment more than he’d ever know. Nash Bledsoe
was
a kind person, just as she’d decided when he hadn’t lectured her about burning the recliner. She probably didn’t have to worry about him blabbing about her circumstances, but it wouldn’t hurt to make sure.

She cleared her throat. “I’m not famous enough to have paparazzi following me around, but this would make a juicy story for somebody—
Motivational Guru Let Father Die in Squalor.
That kind of thing.”

“Are you worried that I’ll tell on you?”

“Not really, but after all, you have a personal grudge against me. I guess I couldn’t blame you for thinking about exposing my frailties to the general public.”

His blue gaze sharpened. “I’m not vindictive, Bethany.”

“I didn’t think so, but—”

“I’ll report to Emmett that I found you here burning trash, and after we talked, you decided to take your garbage to the landfill from now on. He doesn’t seem to know who you are. I’d be surprised if anyone in this area realizes that you’re nationally known in the motivational field. Cowboys don’t read those books all that much.”

“No need. They live a blessed life.” She smiled in gratitude. “Thanks, Nash.”

“So what are you going to do? I mean, besides destroying this recliner?”

“I have to sell the place. My life’s in Atlanta now. Keeping property in Jackson Hole makes no sense, except...”

“Except?”

“I worry about selling it as is. If the media somehow finds out my dad lived like this... But hiring somebody to fix it up is risky, too. Word could still get out.”

“So hire me.”

“You? You have a job.”

“True, but it’s only sunup to sundown. My nights are my own. My dad was a general contractor and I worked with him every summer during high school and college. And I could use the money.”

She couldn’t help laughing. “You can’t work on repairs in the dark.”

“Inside stuff I can, and for outside stuff, I can set up spotlights. It’s completely doable.”

“Will the folks at the Last Chance object to having you moonlight, literally?”

He shrugged. “Not if I tell them that we’re old schoolmates and you’re helping me financially by hiring me during my off-hours. They all know I’m saving up for my own place, and this will make perfect sense to them.”

She considered his offer. Although she didn’t really know him, all her instincts told her he was trustworthy. Besides, he worked for the Chances, who were known for their integrity. That was a recommendation in itself, and he’d certainly be a better bet than taking potluck with some stranger.

“There’s a lot to be done here.” She looked around. “It’s been neglected for several years. Are you sure you can manage by yourself?”

He nodded. “One thing I’m good at is working hard and fast. That didn’t mean much to Lindsay and her parents, but it’s my strength.”

“I’d want you to start with the outbuildings to give me a chance to clear out any personal things from the house.”

“That’s fine. How long are you here for?”

“A week. That should be enough time for me to sort through the stuff in the house. And I’ll be available if you have questions as you get started.”

“So it’s a deal?”

“It’s a deal. I’ll pay you well for this, Nash.”

He smiled. “I’m counting on it. So let’s see. Are your dad’s tools still here?”

“Oh, I’m sure they are. I can’t guarantee the condition of anything, but you’ll need to pick up some building materials, so you can replace any broken tools then.” Discussing the restoration of this place gave her a boost of energy.

“Okay, good. I figure tonight I’ll come over and mostly assess the situation and come up with an estimate. Maybe I’ll start on whatever doesn’t require new lumber and nails. I’ll give you a list you can call in to the Shoshone Feed Store. They carry building supplies, too. I’ll pick everything up.”

“Or I could.” She pointed to the SUV. “That can haul stuff.”

“Nah, don’t get that shiny rental all dirty. A truck’s better, anyway.” He glanced at the chair. “And please leave this right here. I’ll deal with it tonight.”

“You’re sure?”

“Part of the job. But if you want to buy some pots of flowers for the porch, that might be a nice touch.”

She felt a tug of nostalgia. “My mother always had flower pots there.”

“Think curb appeal.”

“I will.” But instead she was thinking about her mother, and the good times they’d had planting bright annuals every spring—mostly pansies and petunias. She’d forgotten that. And after the flowers had started blooming, she and her mom would sit on the porch with glasses of lemonade and admire their efforts.

She swallowed a lump of sorrow and sniffed away her tears. She grieved her dad, though she’d emotionally distanced herself from him years ago. Her mom’s death still tugged at her heartstrings. But she’d rather not let that show and appear even more vulnerable. A girl had to preserve her pride.

“So if you’ll get the spotlights today, I’ll be here after dinner,” Nash said.

“It’s a deal.” For the first time since she’d received the news of her father’s death last week, she felt hopeful that she would be able to handle this painful inheritance.

“And don’t touch that recliner.”

Looking at it, she reached deep and found the humor buried in the situation. She grinned at Nash. “I promise not to touch it. I think I’ve created enough recliner chaos. But hey, it brought you over here.”

“And against all odds, that turns out to be a good thing.”

“Yes.” She met his gaze. “Yes, it does.” To her great surprise, she felt a sexual tug as she looked into his blue eyes. Whoops. Better not go there. Earlier she’d considered flirting with him to prove to herself that she’d outgrown her gawky phase, but that would have been ill-advised, too.

Coming back here and facing her dad’s death, and actually, her mom’s as well, had stirred up some deep feelings. What seemed like sexual desire might be simply a need to be held by a big, strong cowboy. She’d had that fantasy as a teenager but thought she’d outgrown it after leaving Jackson Hole.

Judging from her reaction to Nash, she still harbored that fantasy. If he was going to be around every night for the next week, she might want to dial back that flare of desire she was feeling. She didn’t need to complicate her life.

“See you tonight, Bethany.” He touched the brim of his hat in a typical cowboy gesture and walked back to his truck, carrying the fire extinguisher.

God help her, she watched him leave. He had the denim-encased buns and the loose-hipped stride that turned the simple act of walking into an art form. He’d been a good-looking kid in high school who’d grown into a gorgeous man.

Her reaction might also have to do with her recent period of unintended celibacy. When
Living with Grace
hit the number one spot on several charts, she’d been swept up in a whirlwind of publicity. The media attention, plus her deadline for the next book, had caused her to abandon everything not related to her blossoming career. She hadn’t been seriously involved with a man at the time, so her sex life had been easy to set aside, too.

She hadn’t missed it at all, or so she’d thought until she watched Nash Bledsoe return to his truck. Apparently all the man had to do to get her thinking about bedroom games was give her a view of his jeans-clad backside. Inappropriate scenarios flashed before her eyes in living color.

“Nash?” His name was out of her mouth before she could stop herself.