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“You, too, Jace.” She studied him for a moment, her smile rueful.
As he watched her walk away, he felt all those old feelings rush at him like fighter planes. He swore under his breath, wishing she’d told him what a bastard he was instead of offering to help him through the next few days.
Just the sight of her still stirred a desire in him like no woman ever had.
As he turned toward his rental SUV, he told himself as he had twelve years ago that he would have hurt her worse if he’d married her and stayed in Whitehorse. But even as he told himself that, he couldn’t get one thought out of his mind. What if he hadn’t left? What if he’d stayed and married her? Hell, they could have a couple of kids by now.
That struck him like an arrow to the heart. He stopped as he reached the SUV and was reaching for his keys, when he felt it again. That insane sensation that someone was watching him.
He realized with a sobering shock that normally he was more aware of his surroundings. It was a survival skill in his business. But he’d been so shaken up over everything since getting his mother’s letter and the news of her death and his uncle’s that he’d gotten sloppy.
Now, though, he took in the street. On this side was a row of businesses, a half-dozen pickups parked diagonally in front of them. An elderly woman came out of the hardware store. A man went into the bank at the end of the block. A car came up the street.
He thought for a moment that he’d imagined the feeling of being watched. He’d already realized that he couldn’t trust his instincts earlier with that moment of panic before he’d boarded the plane.
But his instincts told him that he wasn’t so out of it that he’d imagined this.
His gaze fell on a silver SUV like the one he’d rented. It was parked across the street by the park. Someone was sitting behind the wheel, but with the sun glinting off the window …
A pickup went by, casting a long shadow over the SUV across the street. That’s when he saw her. She wore large sunglasses and a hat. She quickly looked away, but he’d recognized her. As he started to cross the street, she hurriedly started the engine and took off, her face turned away. But there was no doubt.
The woman driving the SUV was the woman he’d met at the airport. Ava Carris. What was she doing in Whitehorse? Or maybe more to the point, why was she sitting on the main drag watching him?
Chapter Three
Kayley Mitchell climbed into her pickup, telling herself she was fine. But after several attempts to put her key in the ignition, she gave up and quit pretending, letting the tears come. Jace.
She’d known seeing him again would be hard. She’d thought she was ready to face him. She’d been wrong. Nothing had prepared her for this, even though she’d known he would come home for his mother’s funeral—if he could.
But then Jace had been running from his feelings for years. Could she really be sure what he would do? Especially now after hearing about not only his mother’s death, but also his uncle’s suicide and all that that entailed.
The story was all over town. Her friend and local reporter Andi Jackson had finally done an article about the murders, the baby switch and how Jace Dennison was actually the son of Virginia Winchester. It was all anyone had been talking about for the past month.
Kayley could just imagine how hard all of this was on Jace. She knew seeing her didn’t make things easier for him. Did he think she didn’t know that he seldom came home even to see his mother and uncle, and, when he did, he avoided town? Avoided even the chance he might run into her if she was home visiting?
She had thought for sure that he would come home when he heard about his mother’s illness. But he hadn’t, so she had begun to doubt he would show up for her funeral—until she came out of the store, and there he was.
It had taken her breath away. She was still trembling inside. One look at him and she saw that he’d heard about his uncle. Her heart had gone out to him, even as badly as he’d hurt her. He’d lost his mother and uncle. As far as she knew, he had no other family.
Kayley brushed angrily at her tears. She felt just as she had in high school, her heart pounding, pulse racing, mouth dry as cotton. Hadn’t she cried enough tears for Jace Dennison? He’d broken her heart and she’d never gotten over it. It had taken everything in her not to let him see the effect he had on her.
Not that she ever wanted him to know how much he’d hurt her. Twelve years had dulled the pain but done nothing to temper the desire she still felt for him. She’d moved on, and yet just seeing him had brought it all back, the memory of the two of them together.
She looked around now, afraid she’d been seen crying over him, or, worse, that Jace had witnessed it. Everyone in town would be talking about the two of them as it was. She didn’t need them gossiping about her breakdown on the main drag.
But as she glanced around, she didn’t see Jace. Still, she felt as if someone was watching her.
AVA HAD PANICKED WHEN she’d seen Jace coming across the street toward her car. That had her less upset than the fact that he’d somehow known she was sitting across the street watching him. He’d sensed her.
She’d seen the way he’d looked up, suddenly aware of her. That alone told her she’d been right to follow him to Whitehorse. She’d felt a connection the first time she’d seen him at the Denver airport. It wasn’t just that he looked so much like her deceased husband, John. Something else was going on. She could feel it.
Ava had seen him talking to that woman. That was why she’d driven around the block after her close encounter with Jace. She’d been curious about the woman, picking up something in the way they’d stood as they talked to each other. There was a history there. She could feel it.
She’d gotten around the block in time to see the woman climb into a pickup. Parking, she’d watched her, seen her start to leave, then drop her head to her steering wheel. Even from a few vehicles away, Ava could see that the woman was crying.
Just as she’d thought. There had been something between this woman and Jace.
Ava tried not to hate her. But she knew the type. Blond, blue-eyed, girl next door. A cute little cowgirl. What was the story between the two of them? she wondered as she watched her finally start her vehicle and pull out.
Ava pulled out behind her, following her through town, then north into the country. It was one of those beautiful blue-skied days, the sun coming warm through her windows. She knew she shouldn’t even be in Whitehorse, let alone following this woman, and yet it felt right.
Something had brought her here, something more than Jace Dennison.
Ahead, the cowgirl slowed, then turned down a narrow road. Ava could see a farmhouse set back against a hillside. Several large old cottonwoods framed the picturesque place.
How handy, Ava thought as she realized that this woman lived just down the road from Jace Dennison—according to the address on the letter from his mother.
Ava drove on past, turned around up the road and headed back to town. She slowed just enough at the mailbox on the highway in front of the cowgirl’s house to read the name. K. Mitchell.
She chose a motel on the far edge of town. In the room, she pulled out a phone book. There was only one Mitchell listed. Kayley Mitchell.
Ava was more convinced that the woman wasn’t married. Didn’t the woman know that most women living alone didn’t put their full names in the phone book?
Apparently Kayley thought she was safe living out there all by herself.
While she had the phone book open, she looked up Dennison. She found two numbers, one for an Audie Dennison and another for Marie, the same name as the one on Jace’s letter from his mother. She memorized the phone number for his mother before closing the book.
JACE WAS MORE DETERMINED than ever to get out of town as quickly as possible. After he’d watched Ava Carris drive away, he’d turned back and saw the Milk River Examiner office.
He’d heard that the editor-owner of the paper had written an obit for both Marie and Audie. He was just waiting for Jace’s approval before running it. Marie had gone to school with the man, and Jace knew he was just trying to make things easier for him.
As he stepped inside, Jace spotted a young woman on the phone. She had a Southern accent, and when she turned toward the door, she seemed surprised and a little wary.
“Is Mark Sanders around?” Jace asked as the woman hung up.
“He’s out on calls,” she said, definitely looking nervous. “I’m the reporter, Andi Jackson. The newspaper’s only reporter.”
Jace blinked. “Jackson. Are you …”
“Cade’s wife.”
Cade Jackson, his one-time best friend. “It’s nice to meet you, I think. I’m—”
“Jace Dennison.” She swallowed. “I was the one who wrote the stories about you.”
He’d figured Mark would have tried to keep it out of the newspaper. But apparently Cade’s wife had written about it anyway.
“Everyone in town was talking about it,” she said.
“The rumors were worse than the truth.” She’d been staring at him and now shook her head. “How could anyone not have known you were a Winchester?”
Apparently quite a few people knew. “I’d like to see the papers.”
She nodded and went into the back, returning after only a few minutes. “I heard you were back. I have them ready for you. Also, there are the obits Mark wrote.”
Jace reached for his wallet.
“They’re on me,” she said.
He thought she might apologize for putting his life on the front page of his hometown newspaper. When she didn’t, he said, “You were just doing your job, right?”
“Yes,” she said raising her chin. “And I’m damned good at it.”
Jace had to smile. He liked her, which surprised the hell out of him. Cade had done all right. “I like a woman who stands up for what she believes in,” he said and gave her his cell phone number. “Tell your husband hello for me.”
As Jace left, he glanced across the street, half expecting to see Ava Carris parked on the other side again. But there was no sign of her. He felt an uneasiness as he climbed into the SUV and headed out of town. Maybe there was a reasonable explanation for what she was doing in town and why she was driving a vehicle apparently identical to the one he’d rented.
He glanced over at the newspapers on the seat next to him. One of the headlines caught his eye, and he quickly looked away. Was he really up to reading them?
It dawned on him that Ava Carris could be a reporter who hoped to mine his story further. She could have made up that story about him looking like her husband.
Or she could be a private detective working for the Winchesters.
Neither seemed likely when he thought about the petite, slight woman. But he planned to make a point of asking her the next time he saw her. And he feared there was a damned good chance he’d be seeing her again.
MCCALL DROVE OUT TO THE Winchester ranch, needing to bring the news in person. She hadn’t seen her grandmother since Pepper had come into town to help her pick out flowers for the wedding.
The wedding was now just weeks away. McCall couldn’t believe how quickly the time had gone. A Christmas wedding for her and Luke at Winchester ranch. Sometimes she had to pinch herself. It hadn’t been that long ago that she’d never set foot on the ranch, never seen her grandmother, never been accepted as a Winchester.
Nor had it been that long ago that Luke wasn’t in her life. But he’d come back to town, taken the game-warden job and started building a house south of town with apparently only one goal in mind—getting her back.
McCall smiled, glad the man was persistent. She couldn’t wait to marry him. Her only hesitation was that her grandmother might have an ulterior motive in wanting her to get married at the ranch. That and just the thought of her grandmother and mother in the same room.
She pushed those thoughts aside now as she drove under the wooden arch that read Winchester Ranch. Just over the hill she slowed, never tiring of seeing the massive ranch lodge. It was built much in the same fashion as the Old Faithful Lodge in Yellowstone Park and looked of that era.
As she parked and got out, she noticed that her grandmother’s old Blue Heeler didn’t get up, didn’t even growl, as she walked to the door. The dog just watched her as if uninterested.
Before she could knock, Enid opened the door. Her sour look was more accusing than usual.
“It’s been hell here,” the old housekeeper snapped. Enid was one of those broomstick–thin, brittle old women with a nasty disposition.
Everyone in the family wondered why Pepper Winchester kept her on. Most figured Enid had something she held over the matriarch’s head—and they didn’t want to know what it was.
“Pepper and Virginia have been at each other’s throats,” Enid said as she led the way inside.
Nothing new there, McCall thought. From down a long hallway, she heard the sound of her grandmother’s cane tapping on the old hardwood flooring.
Pepper Winchester was a tall, regal-looking woman. What had struck McCall the first time she’d seen her was how much she resembled her grandmother. Since then she’d seen photographs of Pepper at her age. There had been little doubt that McCall was a Winchester.
As usual, her grandmother had her salt-and-peppered dark hair pulled back in a braid that snaked over one shoulder. What was unusual was that her grandmother wasn’t wearing black.
For the past twenty-seven years, Pepper had been a recluse, locked away in this big place with just Enid and Enid’s husband, Alfred. Her grandmother had worn black the entire time.
Today, though, she wore jeans, a Western shirt and moccasins. She looked younger than her seventy-two years and actually smiled as she approached.
“I’m sure Enid complained to you,” she said as she motioned toward the lodge parlor.
A small fire burned there, taking the chill off the November day. McCall took one of the leather chairs and watched her grandmother lower herself into the other one in front of the fire.
“How is Aunt Virginia?” McCall asked.
Pepper made a face. “Angry, sad, bitter. Pretty much what you would expect.”
McCall thought of Jace’s reaction to the news. “Jace Dennison is back in town for his mother’s and uncle’s funerals.”
“You told him?”
McCall nodded. “He didn’t take it well.”
Pepper chuckled. “He wasn’t glad to be a Winchester?” she asked with a wry smile. “Imagine that.”
“I doubt he’ll be in town long. Just long enough to get his business done, and then he’ll be gone, probably for good.”
Pepper nodded. “I have no idea what Virginia is thinking. She’s still angry at me. All these years she suspected I had something to do with her baby dying.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You suspected that I had something to do with the babies being switched.”
McCall didn’t deny it. “I can’t imagine what I would be feeling if I found out that the child I gave birth to didn’t die but is alive—and thirty years old.”
“Marie will always be Jace’s mother,” Pepper said.
“Don’t you think Virginia wants to see him? I could talk to her.”
“Talk to me about what?” Virginia said from the doorway. She was tall like her mother, with the Winchester dark coloring, but lacked Pepper’s beauty at her age.
“Jace Dennison is in town for the funerals,” Pepper said to her daughter.
Virginia’s gaze settled on McCall. “You’ve seen him?”
“He’s definitely a Winchester.”
“Handsome?” she asked almost hopefully.
“Very. Stubborn. Independent. And probably impatient just like all the Winchesters,” McCall said.
Virginia smiled ruefully. “You’re trying to tell me that he isn’t going to want to see me.”
