When It's Right (12 page)

“He just met me.”

“Sometimes it's like that. It was for me with Dee. After my wife, your grandmother, died, I thought I'd spend the rest of my life alone. Then I saw Dee, and I knew right away that she was for me. I saw something in her that I recognized. Some might call it soul mates or destiny. I just call it right. When it's right, you know.”

“And Blake looked at me and it was right.”

“Could be? I can't speak for him. I think you like him. You seem to trust him.”

“He had the same disgusted look on his face when I suggested you might have hurt Boots.”

“You've only been here a day. You need time to adjust. When you said you liked being here and felt like you belonged, I can tell you that was a load off his mind. Mine, too. Ranch life can be lonely for a woman who'd rather be surrounded by ­people and stores and such. You might still find that you'd rather have that kind of life, but he's hoping you'd rather be here. I have to say, so am I.”

They stood side by side watching Justin hold onto Blake's hair as they walked the horse back to the stable. Huge, his long strides carried him across the wide, open space in moments. She had to admit her brother and Blake looked good together.

“I guess we'll see,” she replied. “Right now, my only concern is getting Justin settled. The ranch is good for him. I've seen such a huge change in him in the short time he's been here. He smiles. He laughs. He doesn't watch what he says or does around you two. He isn't scared. You, Grandma Dee, Blake, you're good for him.”

“I can't tell you how it makes me feel to hear you call us ‘Grandma' and ‘Grandpa.' It's more than we expected and better than we deserve. Especially me. I could have helped you. Over the years, Ron called and asked for money. I never sent it, even though I knew you were with him.”

“If you had, he'd have spent it on drugs and booze. He wasn't asking you to help with me, no matter what he said to you at the time.” She caught the look in his eyes. He knew that, but appreciated the fact that she did, too. She didn't blame him. She'd done the best she could to make Ron come around, but the man hadn't wanted to be anything but what he was.

“I'm just glad you're willing to give us the benefit of the doubt.”

“I'm trying to remember not to judge everyone based on my mother and father's example. They were two peas in a pod with friends to match. When I was little, I thought everyone was like them. I didn't know that other kids had parents who took care of them and loved them. When I started working odd jobs, I realized there were kind ­people in the world. I had a hard time finding work. No one wanted to hire a scrawny, underage kid. A lady who owned a Chinese restaurant let me wash dishes for cash and food. Whatever day I showed up, as many days as I'd show up, she let me work. She made all the difference in the world sometimes. When Justin was a tiny baby, I'd bring him with me. She'd sing to him in Mandarin while I washed dishes and mopped the floor. She taught me how to take care of him properly. Later, she helped me get the job at the garage keeping books. Any time she heard of an odd job here or there, she'd send it my way. I met more nice ­people along the way.”

She sighed. God, she was so tired. “Sometimes I go with my first instinct that ­people are generally bad. I'm sorry I did that with you. It wasn't meant to hurt you so much as it was to protect Justin and myself.”

“Fair enough,” Grandpa agreed. “You're smart and capable. I imagine your skill at sizing up a person's character comes in handy, living and working in the city.”

“You mean in the neighborhoods most ­people avoid if they can help it.”

“Right.”

“So, you don't mind that someone who works for you is interested in me?”

“Blake is as good a man as I've ever known. I wish Ron had turned out to be even a quarter of what Blake is for my daughter's sake. For your sake.”

“Well, that's saying something.”

“I won't interfere if seeing him is what you want. But understand this, I've made it clear to every man on this ranch that this is your home. They are to keep their distance and act professional when you're around. If you want to get to know Blake, or one of the other men better, you hold the power and their job in your hands. If they make you unhappy, or look at you the wrong way, I'll oust them from this land. If God forbid one of them hurts you, they'll leave this place full of lead.”

Wow, no one had ever been that protective of her. She kind of liked it. But she didn't like knowing that if she dated Blake and it didn't work out, he'd lose his job and his home. Her grandparents were like family to him. She didn't want to be responsible for him losing so much. She needed to process and think about her grandfather's words.

No matter what Blake was or wasn't to her, he wasn't her priority. She needed to get Justin settled in school. She needed to find her footing here. Grandma Dee had been right. Gillian needed time to figure out what she wanted to do with her life.

She wished she could think through the pain and breathe without suffocating on her past.

 

Chapter 15

G
illian hadn't really paid attention to the quaint town of Crystal Creek when they'd driven through the first time. She'd been focused on getting to her grandfather's place and finding the store to get Justin some medicine. Now, she looked around from the front seat of the truck, where she sat between her grandfather and Blake. Justin and Grandma Dee sat in back. No way for her to get back there with the brace on her leg. Both men took up a lot of space, but Blake seemed to invade hers just with his presence beside her. Hyperaware of him, she squirmed, pressing her legs together. She tried not to think of how good he smelled, or how his jeans stretched taught over his thigh muscles.

They drove past the post office and grocery store and turned down First Street. Cute shops lined both sides. ­People window-­shopped and sat on benches next to pots overflowing with vibrant red, white, and blue flowers. Small-­town Main Street was alive and well here. Her grandfather found a lucky parking spot outside the general store. Everyone got out. Blake helped her down. Actually, he grabbed her waist, plucked her from the seat, and set her on her feet beside him. He touched his hand to the small of her back and pushed her toward the door. She didn't mind the good manners, but having him that close did something strange to her insides.

She stepped up onto the sidewalk and stared down the street, drawn to the rumble of a motorcycle idling by the coffee shop.

A man sat with his tattooed arms stretched to the handlebars. The sun brightened his shaggy blonde hair. He turned and looked right at her. Time stopped along with her breath. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out.

It can
't be. I shot him. I killed him.

Fear swamped her body and every rational thought in her mind. That slideshow in her head played back: she shot her father, the blood spread across his chest, she crashed through the window. The motorcycle engine revved again. Instead of hitting the car, she jolted back to reality. The man took off down the road.

Blake cupped her face in his warm hands. She knocked them away and stepped back.

“Hey, what's wrong?”

“Nothing. I'm fine.”

“No, you're not.”

“Leave it alone.” She left him at her back and stepped into the store, hoping no one else noticed she was losing her mind.

“Let's split up,” her grandfather suggested. “We've got just over an hour before Gillian's doctor's appointment. Blake and I will take Justin. Dee, you help Gillian find what she needs. We'll meet at the register.”

All for escaping Blake's intense stare, she followed her grandmother to the women's section. “Well, let's see, you'll need some jeans. Let's start there.” Her grandmother stood before the wall of shelves stacked with jeans. “What size?”

“Four. Maybe?”

Grandma Dee grabbed several different pairs. “Try these on. Whichever fits the best and you like, we'll grab a ­couple extra pairs. Now, shirts.” She followed Gillian through the racks and displays. Her grandmother picked out a ­couple of things, and Gillian added more to the growing pile in her arms.

“There now, let's hit the fitting room and try these on. We'll go from there.”

“Grandma, I don't need this much.” Gillian pointed her chin at the stack of clothes about to hide her face.

“Please let me do this for you. I don't have any children of my own to spoil. I'm so happy to help you with this.”

What could Gillian say? She gave Grandma Dee a smile, accepting defeat gracefully. Grandma grabbed part of the stack and headed for the dressing room. Gillian tried everything on. That torture took half an hour in her condition, but she found several things she loved, including a ­couple of pairs of soft cotton leggings.

“I know you're getting tired, but let's stop by the lingerie section and get you some essentials.” Grandma actually winked at her.

Gillian had gotten by on cotton panties and bras, though most were in sad shape. Grandma Dee headed straight for the pretty lace without even a smirk. She added a ­couple of pretty nightgowns in an ice blue and dark teal to the pile of clothes in Gillian's arms. “They'll make your hair glow and your skin look like it's been kissed by the sun. Every girl should have pretty things, Gillian. You deserve them.”

Gillian's eyes glassed over. No one had ever given her pretty things or thought she deserved them.

Her grandfather, Blake, and Justin joined them at that moment, their arms filled with Justin's new wardrobe. Everything from new shoes, boots, socks, underwear, and a ­couple of sweatshirts, in addition to pants and shirts. Ready for school, by the looks of it.

Grandma Dee turned to her grandfather. “Take Justin to the register and start on his stuff, plus this.” She handed over her pile, then took the things from Gillian's hands. “I'll leave you to pick out what you want,” she said to Gillian. They all headed off to start paying for the new items.

Happy to be alone, Gillian walked through the racks and grabbed what she needed, including a short chenille robe. No way she spent another breakfast half naked next to a man who studied her every move and noticed every little detail about her. Like the way her nipples hardened when he gave her one of those cocky smiles. Or the way goose bumps ran up her arms when he touched her.

“Hey there, can I help you find something?” the salesgirl—­Mandy, according to her tag—­asked.

“I just need to pick out some essentials.”

“What size?”

Blake walked up behind the salesgirl and cast a glance at the frilly panties and bras hanging on the rack next to Gillian.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” he shot back.

Mandy turned and sucked in a surprised breath. “Blake, what brings you by?”

“Shopping with Gillian.”

“Is that right? Well now, you were never one to be alone long.”

Blake's eyes fell away. Could the man actually be embarrassed? Gillian did notice he didn't correct Mandy that they weren't together.

“So, Gillian, what size?” Mandy asked again.

Since he refused to leave her alone, she had no choice but to answer. Heat rose in her cheeks, so she swallowed another dose of pride and spit out, “Small panties and 34C.”

Give the man credit, his gaze remained steady on her face and didn't dip to her chest once.

“I'll have to remember that,” Blake teased, making her cheeks and ears flame.

Two could play this game. “I'd like to see you buy me underwear.”

Damn the man. She should have known better than to dare him. He walked over to a pretty bra and panty set of cream satin with pink lace trim, found her size, and pulled it off the rack.

“Well, now, Blake's usually the one issuing dares,” Mandy said.

Gillian didn't understand the shame and regret that filled Blake's eyes before he abruptly walked over to the cash register two over from her grandparents. He probably didn't want them to see what he was buying. Still, it didn't explain the look. Buying underwear wouldn't embarrass him.

“Never dare a cowboy,” Mandy said, smirking like an idiot, completely oblivious to whatever bothered Blake.

“If you don't mind, I think I've got this.”

“Sure thing.” Mandy flitted away to help another customer in the shoe department.

Gillian grabbed what she wanted and needed and headed toward the cash register.

Blake walked over, carrying a white bag by the string handles. “For you.”

“Why don't you wear it?”

“Not my color. Besides, it will look better on you.”

“What will look better on you?” her grandfather asked.

The color drained from Blake's face. He opened his mouth to answer, but she chimed in. “The pretty scarf I saw on a mannequin. Blake bought it for me to welcome me to the ranch.” She snatched the bag from Blake and held it to her belly. “Thank you.” Her grandfather's earlier warning came back that Blake's job was on the line if he did something out of line. She didn't want to get him in trouble. She'd dared him. Her fault he'd had no choice but to take it.

“Well, okay.” Her grandfather eyed Blake, who kept a neutral expression on his face. “Bring the rest of your things to the register and we'll settle up.” He walked back to join Justin and her grandmother.

Gillian hung back a second when Blake stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

“Thanks for saving me from that awkward, potentially deadly, explanation. If there's anything else you want, it's yours.”

Ah, that smile would be the death of her. Bold, the man had charm, a sense of humor, and knew just how to get past her defenses—­and when to back off. She liked him. She really liked him.

“Thanks, but I'm good.”

“Let me take those from you.” He took the pile of lingerie from her hands.

“You just can't wait to get your hands on my panties.” She'd never flirted with a man. Not like this. Maybe a smile. A look. But she found it so easy to joke and tease with Blake.

“I have all the time you need for that.” No joke there. He meant it and made sure she knew it with a steady look before he turned and took everything to the register, where her grandfather handed over stuffed bags to Blake and Grandma Dee and paid the astronomical bill without so much as a gasp, or even a blink.

“Uh—­”

Blake leaned in. “Just say thank you,” he whispered.

She let out a heavy sigh. “Thank you. I really appreciate this. Justin, what do you say?”

“Thank you. Now I'll look just like Grandpa and Blake.” Justin pulled on his dark brown cowboy boots and dumped his old battered tennis shoes into the box. He stood and rocked back and forth, testing out the boots. So cute. He smiled up at Blake, who ruffled his hair.

“Come on, partner, let's mosey.” Blake walked past her toward the exit with his hands loaded down with bags.

Out on the street, Blake and Bud stuffed the bags in the back of the truck, and everyone except Blake piled in. She stood on the sidewalk, scanning the street, looking for a man she killed and couldn't be there. Just her imagination. Nothing more. Stress. Pain. They were taking a toll on her mind. She needed sleep. That was all.

She walked to the open truck door. Blake took her by the waist again and set her on the seat, carefully grabbing her ankle and helping her shift into the truck. He set her foot on the floorboards.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. How's your pain level?”

“From one to agony? Take a guess.”

“Let's go see the doc and get you some meds.”

Her grandfather stopped outside the clinic. Blake helped her out of the truck again.

“We'll meet you back here in about half an hour,” her grandfather said. “We'll take Justin to the bookstore and for some ice cream while you see the doctor.”

“Okay.” She hobbled to the front door.

Blake reached past her and opened it.

“You don't need to stay with me.”

“Yes. I do. Come on.” He held his hand out to indicate that she should walk inside. Since the ­people in the waiting area stared, she swallowed the sharp words she wanted to say to get him to leave her alone.

She walked up to the counter, but Blake spoke for her.

“Hey Tina, this is Gillian Tucker. She's got an appointment with Dr. Bell.”

Tina beamed Blake a bright smile. Her eyes went soft on him. Gillian waited for the flirty giggle. Yep, there it was when Blake smiled back. Gillian waited for him to flirt back, but he laid his hand over hers on the counter. Tina caught the move and looked from Gillian to Blake and back.

Gillian slipped her hand free, understanding why the woman gave her a look that said she didn't get it. What the hell did a gorgeous man like Blake want with a beat-­up nobody like her?

“Uh, take her into room four. Dr. Bell will be right in. There's a gown. Ties in back so she can check your injuries.”

“Thanks.” Blake took Gillian's hand and led her to the room down the short hall. “Here you go.”

She walked in, and he closed the door. Good, she didn't need to ask him to leave and have yet another awkward conversation.

She pulled off her shirt. The crisscross stitches on her back made it impossible for her to wear a bra, so she'd opted for a tank top. She stripped that off, too. She unwrapped the bandage on her wrist and flexed her fingers. Her hand didn't really hurt anymore. She tore apart the straps on her leg brace and slid it down her leg. Pants piled with her other clothes, she pulled on the gown, left the back open, and sat on the table, waiting.

Blake knocked on the door, opened it a crack without looking in, and asked, “You decent?”

“Not really.”

He walked in and found her with her hands braced on the table, one leg dangling off the edge, the other stretched out to avoid bending her knee. Her head hung between her shoulders, her gaze on her purple sock with the hole in the toe. Her favorite pair, but she'd have to toss them out now that she had new ones.

“Go away. Wait in the other room.”

“Not a chance.” He pulled up the chair and sat in front of her. He reached out to touch her swollen and bruised knee. She grabbed his wrist to stop him. Their eyes locked. “That looks bad.”

His warm hand settled on her skin. Her hand remained locked on his wrist, but she didn't push him away.

“It all looks bad.” She removed his hand, unable to bear the sweet touch. She wanted more, and wanting more was dangerous for both of them.

He set it on his corded thigh and leaned in close.

“Really, you don't need to be here for this. I can take care of myself.”

“I promised. No way the doc comes near you with a needle when I'm around.” He leaned back and settled into the squeaking chair.

She hated the doctor's office. The hospital stay had nearly driven her insane. Every five minutes someone jabbed a needle in her somewhere, or poked and prodded everything that hurt. She just wanted to grit her teeth and get this done without any witnesses.