Jeannie Watt (7 page)

Silence.

“Hello,” he said again. If this was Somers…

“Who is this?”

Matt instantly recognized the voice and gave an inward groan. “Hi, Nick. It’s Matt.”

What the hell are you doing there?
Matt could practically hear the kid’s very reasonable yet unspoken question, so he filled in the blanks. “Tara’s got the flu. I’m sleeping in the chair—”
liar
“—in case she needs anything.”

“She’s sick? How bad?”

“She’s sleeping. She’ll feel better tomorrow.”

Nicky was silent for a moment then said, “Tell her I’ll call her tomorrow. And don’t let her kill herself working on that house until she’s better.”

Matt smiled in spite of himself. “I’ll try,” he said dryly.

He heard Nicky’s voice relax a little as the kid said, “Do your best.”

“By the way,” Matt asked, “did you call a few minutes ago?”

“Yeah, I figured it was a wrong number when you answered.”

“Why are you calling so late?” Matt asked, curious.

“Oh, I usually call at this time,” Nicky said matter-of-factly. “That way I can tell T to stop working and go to bed.”

T
HERE SEEMED TO BE
cats everywhere when Matt started to slide the big barn door open early the next morning, so he stopped pushing for a moment and watched the animals scramble away. Had his own adopted fat cat ever been that speedy? Somehow he didn’t think so.

The animals raced to a low-sided black rubber tub and looked at him expectantly, and Matt saw then that there were actually only two adult cats and a litter of half-grown kittens. Somehow it seemed as if there were more. He went over to the bags of food he’d hauled in the day before and he grinned as he saw several holes in them. He hefted one of the leaking bags as best he could and filled the black tub.

The donkeys were waiting outside the barn, both obviously hungry and impatient to be fed. Matt knew enough about the equine species to know that he needed to feed them hay. He had no idea how much, so he filled the manger and figured that they could regulate their own intake. From the greedy way they both dived into the dried grass, tossing it in the air as they looked for the good stuff, Matt decided that self-regulation was out. He hoped he hadn’t overfed them and they wouldn’t get sick or something.

There seemed to be no one else to feed, except for himself and Tara, so Matt went back into the kitchen and began to familiarize himself. Tara had everything a cook could possibly need, including some gadgets he couldn’t even identify, and from what he’d tasted, she knew how to use the stuff.

He wasn’t a bad cook by any means, but he was definitely not in her league. The things he used were simple. Bowls, spoons, measuring cups, knives, things like that. He left the food processors and espresso makers to the professionals. He started opening drawers and cupboards, looking for rudimentary items to make breakfast for a sick person.

He had just finished making oatmeal when he heard scuffing footsteps.

Matt looked up, surprised to see Tara on her feet and standing in the doorway. She was wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with the logo for the UNLV Running Rebels and a pair of baggy, overly long gray sweatpants that had to belong to Nicky. She’d unbraided her hair and it fell down her back in long waves. “Do me a favor,” she said in her husky, sore-throat voice. She handed him a hair elastic and turned around.

“I’m not much of a braider,” Matt said roughly. She’d keel over before he got the job done. Besides, it would be best, after last night, if he didn’t touch her, especially because he wanted to touch her.

“Just make a ponytail. It hurts to lift my arms.” She glanced over her shoulder, her expression surprisingly unguarded. “It hurts to do anything.”

She obviously had no recollection of him being in her bed the night before, which was probably a good thing, he decided as he tentatively gathered the long hair.

Now he knew what Tara’s hair felt like. It felt great. Silky and sensual as it slid through his fingers. And it was hard to control. He bit the corner of his lip and concentrated on pulling the strands through an elastic that didn’t seem up to the job.

He brushed his fingers over the smooth skin at the back of her neck when he was finished, fighting an urge to follow with his lips.

“Thanks,” Tara murmured. She moved to the nearest kitchen chair and sank down, her elbow on the table propping her head in her hand. She was pale and her forehead was furrowed with pain.

“I fed your animals…I think,” Matt said. “They have food in front of them anyway.”

“Again, thanks,” Tara said in a low voice. “And thanks for last night.”

“Uh, no problem.”

“I should call Nicky.”

“He already called. He said he’d call back this afternoon.”

“Good.” Tara closed her eyes.

Matt wondered why she was even out of bed. Surely she didn’t plan to work…. “You look awful,” he said bluntly. “Go back to bed. I’ll do the work today.”

Tara opened her eyes and gave him a dark look. Matt ignored it. “Do you want to eat first?”

The horrified expression on her face almost made him smile.

“I made oatmeal.”

“Don’t.” Tara held up a hand. “I’ll go back to bed for a while if you promise not to threaten me with food.
Especially
oatmeal.”

“Deal.”

She got to her feet, swaying a little before she started toward the door to the back of the house. Matt could hear her muttering something under her breath.

“Tara?”

She stopped in the doorway.

“I’ll work for both of us today, okay? That way you can concentrate on getting well instead of worrying about what you’re not getting done.”

Her expression shifted and she actually smiled. “Maybe you could do enough work for Nicky, too,” she suggested in her husky voice.

He smiled back. “That should be easy. Nicky doesn’t know how to do much.”

She held his gaze, her voice low and matter-of-fact as she said, “I’ve been kind of rotten to you lately. I’m sorry.”

“Tara…”

“Yes?”

“Go to bed.”

M
ATT CLIMBED
the stairs to the third floor, figuring he’d start at the top and work down, inventorying the work ahead of him. The top was not good. In fact, it was pretty bad, and Matt could see why Tara only planned on finishing the first and second floors in the short amount of time they had left. There were two baths plumbed and framed in, but no wallboard, no doors. There had probably been four rooms on that floor at one time, but the walls had been torn down, leaving only one plaster-and-lath load-bearing wall in the center of the scarred floor. It needed a lot of work to make this area habitable, but Matt could see the potential. The view alone was fantastic.

He went to lean on a rough windowsill and peered out across the valley—pastures, green irrigated fields and vast expanses of government grass and sagebrush. Night Sky to the east and the Sandoval Mountains to the west.

It was peaceful.

Serene.

A place where he didn’t really belong. His place was the city. Vegas or Reno. Crowded, loud, impersonal. Sometimes ugly, always active.

So why did he feel this unexpected attraction to a place unlike anywhere he’d ever lived before?

Because he was flipping crazy from lack of sleep, that’s why.

He abruptly pushed off from the sill and went back down the stairs.

The second floor was in a lot better shape. The walls in all of the bedrooms had been patched and primed, some had been painted. The floors had been stripped and refinished. There wasn’t a stick of furniture anywhere. Matt wondered if Tara had it stored somewhere or if she planned on a shopping spree. The rooms needed the molding replaced and none of them had overhead light fixtures—just capped-off wires protruding from the ceilings. Matt found a trouble-light in a bedroom, clamped to the closet door, that answered his own question as to how Tara worked after dark.

The hall had a working light fixture, but it was a simple ceramic base with a bare bulb. He switched the light on, illuminating the scuffed-up walls, which had yet to be primed, or even washed. One woman could only do so much.

He turned the light back off and was heading for the stairs when he caught a flash of white out one of the bedroom windows. He stepped inside the room in time to see a white BMW cruise by on the county road. Matt’s pickup was parked prominently in front of the house and was apparently all the incentive Ryan needed to keep moving—unless, of course, the guy had an innocent reason for driving by Tara’s isolated house at approximately twenty miles per hour. Always a possibility…but somehow Matt didn’t believe anything Ryan did was innocent. The Inn was a couple of miles in the opposite direction. There wasn’t much in the direction Ryan was heading.

Matt watched the vehicle until it was out of sight. He waited and then, about ten minutes later, it reappeared, traveling faster on the return trip, but still not at a normal speed for the road.

As soon as the BMW rounded the bend heading toward town, Matt went downstairs and let himself out the kitchen door, crossing the grass to the gazebo. He had another couple of hours of work left on the old structure, then he figured he’d see what he could do inside. Of course, Tara would be up and around and trying to do things before she was recovered, but there wasn’t much he could do about that.

Tara surprised him, though, by staying in bed most of the day. She was asleep when Luke dropped by to see Matt’s work and to fertilize the roses.

“Looks good,” Luke said as he inspected the gazebo. “Heard you had a late night last night.”

“Yeah.” Nothing happened in this town without everyone knowing about it. “I couldn’t sleep, so I went over to kill some time.”

“I hear you have a girlfriend.”

Matt gave Luke a dark look and the old man laughed. “So, where’s Tara?”

“Sleeping. She’s got that flu that’s going around. How long you going to be here?”

“A half an hour or so.”

“I have to run to town. I hate to leave her alone.”
Especially with Ryan cruising around.

“I’ll stay within shouting distance in case she needs something.”

“Thanks.”

When Matt returned an hour later, Luke was gone and Tara was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a glass of water.

“Where’s Luke?”

“Appointment at the clinic. They called with a cancellation. He wasn’t going to go, but I told him I was fine.” She smiled. “He left about twenty minutes ago, all excited because the doctor is going to try a new medication. If it works out, he can drink beer.”

“That should do him some good,” Matt said with a grin. He liked it when Tara smiled. “How’re you feeling?”

“Good enough to work tomorrow.”

“No doubt.”

Tara took another sip of water. “You know, Connors, it occurred to me today that you spent the night in my house and I know nothing about you.”

That was true. And he could see where that would be cause for concern for a single woman living alone.

“Luke trusts me,” he pointed out.

“Yeah. Now I want to know why. How do you know Luke?”

“His brother is married to my mother. He’s my stepuncle I guess. He was also my boss once.”

“And what do you do for a living? Carpentry? Contracting?”

“I’m a police officer for the city of Reno.”

Tara’s eyebrows went up. “You’re in law enforcement?”

“Is that so surprising?” Wasn’t it normal to have a cop refurbishing your house?

“No…it just clears a few things up for me.” Tara didn’t explain. “And you’re here because…”

“I came to help Luke until he feels better. It seemed a decent way to spend my vacation.” It was his turn for a question before she delved too deeply into the matter of his vacation—like why he had about twice as many days as he should have. “How long have you known Luke?”

Tara thought for a moment. “He knew my aunt from school. When he moved back here, he started doing the gardens for her, but I was already in college. I guess you could say that I really got to know him after my aunt died. He kind of stayed with the place.”

“So only a year or two?” It was Matt’s turn to be surprised. From the way Luke talked about Tara, Matt had assumed he’d known her since she was a child.

“Yeah. But he has been very good to me. He was someone that…I don’t know…I guess I trusted from day one.”

“That doesn’t happen often for you?”

“Like never?”

“Imagine that?” The words came out low and teasing. Tara smirked at him and ping-ponged the subject back to him.

“Where are you from originally?”

He leaned back against the counter, folding his arms over his chest. “Las Vegas. My mom and stepdad live there.”

“Your real dad?”

“He’s dead.”

“So’s mine,” Tara said, running a finger over the ridges on the side of her glass.

“Is it just you and Nicky, then? Or do you have more family somewhere else?” Matt purposely shifted the direction of conversation again and wondered if Tara was going to let him get away with it.

“You’ve been in Night Sky for more than a week. Are you telling me you don’t know my entire history?”

Matt didn’t try to hedge. “I know your dad went to prison.” He didn’t feel like telling her that his dad probably should have gone to prison, too. Would have, if he hadn’t have been killed in the line of duty.

“He did. Bank robbery. I was twelve when he was sentenced and eighteen when he died. Pneumonia.”

“Your mom?”

“Died when I was ten.”

“Who raised you and Nicky?”

“I did, in a way. We lived here with my great-aunt Laura, after my father was arrested.” Tara smiled reminiscently. “She was a bit of a free spirit. She took care of us, but wasn’t exactly…traditional, shall we say?”

“Your aunt was eccentric?”

“I prefer to think of it as having unique tastes and skills. See that penguin on top of the refrigerator? She carved it for Nicky when he was little.”

Matt reached for the brightly painted bird. “I’ve never seen a purple penguin.”