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“But you knew them.” He looked her dead in the eye, and she nodded, unable to hold in the truth at the anguish she glimpsed in their depths.
“Did you know Jesse’s murderers?”
“Of course not. I was raising a child.” And trying, trying, trying to move on with her life. Guilt flashed inside over how she’d had to push Jesse away to do that. If she’d stuck by him, been stronger for him, would he be alive today?
James studied her and the stern planes of his face softened. “Heroin ruined Jesse’s life.” His voice seemed to vibrate across the short space between them, bending the frigid night air, making her insides jump. “I won’t have anyone associated with drugs here at the ranch.”
The old, familiar shame of being an addict, a felon, a homeless teenager and single mother dredged through her. It raked over her hopes to become something more.
“My addiction cost me my dreams. Single-parenting added another challenge,” she divulged. “But I’m going to make something of myself and have a fresh start.” One she delayed every minute spent in Carbondale. She needed to begin again where no one knew the bad in her.
“I hope you do.”
“I’ll leave once I find my wallet. A couple of the places I wanted to check yesterday evening were closed. I’ll visit them first thing tomorrow.”
“And I’ll accompany you after I’ve finished my chores.”
“What? Why?!”
“To help you get that fresh start.” A ghost of a smile appeared on his face, a faint dimple denting his left cheek like an innocent child’s memory. “Good night, Sofia,” he said, his voice a deep rumble between them. Then he turned, trotted down the stairs and strode toward one of the cabins.
She watched his large frame stalk across the snowy field, unsure whether to call the Cades friends or foe.
Certainly not family, as much as she wished otherwise.
Joy wasn’t the only one in danger of getting her heart broken. Sofia could fall for this warmhearted clan—minus haunted, brooding James—as quickly and painfully as she had for Jesse. Hopefully, she’d find her wallet tomorrow and be on her way before any real damage was done.
CHAPTER FOUR (#uf5b4362c-ec62-533f-b5d9-4cbadaa1af01)
JAMES SLUGGED A hot draw of black coffee the next afternoon and set the thermos in his truck’s cup holder. A boot-stomping country-rock tune blared from his sound system and Sofia perched beside him, her arms hugging her knees to her chest.
Sofia sang softly, a low sound he found himself straining to hear. They were lyrics to a familiar song that she nearly had right...
“It’s ‘beat boys,’” he corrected, mouth curling, unable to stop himself. An annoyed breath of air escaped him. After spending too much time dwelling on the strange effect the feel of Sofia’s scars had on him, he’d vowed to interact as little as possible with her today.
“And feet off the seat, please.” He angled his head side to side, working the kinks that’d formed in his neck after another sleepless night. Layered brown, tan and beige mesas flashed by his window, rising above the white-banked Colorado river that followed alongside I-70. The hum of his tires, eating up the miles to Carbondale, were a bass note accompaniment to the thumping tune.
Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed the swing of Sofia’s thick black hair as she dropped her feet to the mat and twisted around to face him. “It’s the Beach Boys. You know? Like the group?”
“Might have heard of them,” he drawled, biting back a grin. “But the lyrics are ‘beat boys.’”
“Uh-uh. Listen again.” She restarted the song and then sang “Beach Boys” on the chorus. “See?”
“All I could hear was you. Singing the wrong words.” He couldn’t stop his upward twitching mouth any longer and gave in to a full-on smile. An unfamiliar feeling.
“Then who does the singer mean when he says that he wants to ‘get lost in the rock and roll’? Huh?” Her annoyed huff made something tight inside his chest loosen.
“He wants to get lost in the beat,” he said reasonably, inhaling the vanilla-musk scent that rose from her hair. The soft, shining tresses curled close. “Here. Listen again.” He started the song over. At the chorus, he sang the correct line.
A quick glance to his right revealed Sofia’s frown. Her dark eyebrows met over her nose, and that full pink mouth of hers, the one he hadn’t been able to stop staring at since they’d met last night, pursed. He shoved down the unwanted attraction and forced his gaze back on the road where it belonged. He had no business thinking Jesse’s girl was pretty.
Focus on your mission: retrieve Sofia’s wallet and put her and Javi on the next train to Portland. ASAP.
“Play it again.”
When the song finished, she punched off the player and flopped back in her seat, arms folded over her chest. She plunked her heels on the seat again and dropped her chin on top of her knees. “How come no one corrected me before?”
“Maybe they were afraid of you,” he teased, then sobered at her horrified expression. Had he struck a nerve? Why?
Without a word, she jerked around to face the window and rolled the glass lower. Crisp, crystal-fresh air flowed inside the cab. It carried a hint of smooth pine and diesel. Red cones appeared as they crested a small hill. A cordoned-off lane indicated upcoming roadwork and he slowed, dialing the radio tuner until he caught a Broncos away game against his favorite team, the Cowboys.
They rode in tense silence for a few minutes.
“Jesse used to do that,” he said. “Sing the wrong words.”
“Whenever he sang ‘Hush Little Baby’ to Javi, he’d change all the gifts around.” She spoke without turning her head. “He’d always ask, ‘Now, what’s a baby gonna do with a diamond ring?’”
That caught him with an unexpected warmth. “Sounds like Jesse. What’d he swap them for?”
“I think it was something like, ‘Daddy’s gonna buy you a quarter horse. And if that quarter horse won’t canter, Daddy’s gonna buy you an alligator.’”
A short laugh escaped him. “Yep. That’s Jesse all right.”
“He was good with Javi.”
James squinted his eyes and kept his expression stone. “Jesse always loved babies. So, he never gave any reason for leaving you two?”
She bit down on the corner of her thumb for a long moment, then said, “I didn’t give him much choice when he relapsed. Didn’t want drugs around Javi—”
Her voice broke off, and he shot her a swift look. Her hurt seemed genuine... Had his brother abandoned his child? It went against everything James knew about Jesse. Then again, his brother had kept a lot of secrets, though never one as big as this.
“Why are they playing Jackson?” Sofia exclaimed, dragging him from his thoughts.
Surprised she knew the name of the Cowboys’ starting wide receiver, he met her large, intelligent eyes briefly, then forced his gaze forward again. “Not a fan?”
“After last week’s backward punt return fumble?” she exclaimed. “We need to pull the plug on him.” She jerked her bent thumb out the open window. With her hair blowing wildly around her heart-shaped face, her upward-tilting nose flaring over her rosebud mouth, she knocked the breath right out of him.
“You saw that game?”
Her shoulders, encased in a puffy white ski jacket his sister used to wear, lifted and fell. “The diner I worked in had a radio and the owner was a Cowboys fan. You sound surprised.”
Eyes on the road, he chanted in his head. “I guess I’m just used to my family. They’re die-hard Broncos fans.”
A scoffing noise erupted from the passenger side. “Guess they have to be, living up here and all.”
He lifted his hat, then settled it on again, curving the brim in a C. “Yeah, it’s practically a requirement.”
Her quick bark of laughter warmed his blood. “So how’d you turn traitor?”
“Michael Irvin.”
“The Playmaker.” She whistled. “Three Super Bowl titles.”
“And three All-Pro selections. The man was a legend.”
“A Hall of Famer.” She lifted her chin slightly. “Caught seven hundred and fifty passes.”
“Sixty-five touchdowns.”
“He was Jesse’s favorite, too.” An appalled silence descended. “I’m sorry.” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her reach out, as if to touch his arm, and stop. His body tensed. The sudden wish for that touch staggered him.
He cleared his throat. “Right. Just me and Jesse. Otherwise it’s all about the Broncos. My brother Jared, you probably know, was their starting wide receiver until he tore his ACL six months ago.”
“Which one is Jared again?”
James puzzled over how best to distinguish among his dark-haired siblings and went for the obvious. “The handsome one.”
She spread her hands. “That doesn’t help. You’re all good-looking. Genetic mutants, really.”
“Ha,” he scoffed. At her continued silence, he glanced at her, taken aback by her serious face. “Everyone says he looks like Orlando Bloom.”
She flicked a graceful hand. “Pretty boy, then. I prefer a Jon Snow, personally.”
He felt, rather than saw, her eyes land on him and it did something funny to his gut.
A roar sounded through the speakers, and he gripped the wheel. Sofia dropped her feet to the mat and leaned forward. “Come on, come on. Get to the end zone,” she chanted. Then they both hollered.
“Touchdown!”
“Wooo-hooo!”
“This puts them in playoff contention.”
Despite speaking over each other, he heard every one of her words perfectly, as if they were the keys in some old-fashioned typewriter, pressing into his brain, leaving an indelible mark.
“There’s the bank!” she exclaimed once he’d exited the interstate and onto Main Street. They cruised down the quaint downtown thoroughfare filled with a continuous line of two- and three-story brick and stone facades. Ma claimed many were the original structures built back when Carbondale became a depot town, servicing ranchers and prospectors in 1887.
It certainly had a rustic, Western atmosphere. Boot-and-cowboy-hat-clad residents thronged the wide sidewalks. Overhead, Christmas wreaths bursting with greenery, pinecones and bright red ribbons dangled from black streetlights.
As they parked and exited the truck, he inhaled the tangy scent of barbecue wafting from Shorty’s, a family restaurant run by an old high school friend. A marquee broadcast a country-western concert taking place later that night, Heath Loveland listed as one of the performers, and the Festival of Lights, Carbondale’s holiday season kickoff event set for next week. He hadn’t been to it since Jesse’s passing.
Sofia’s animated face seemed closed now that they’d hit the street. She ducked her head, and her eyes darted left to right, her hands shoved deep into coat pockets. What had happened to his lyric-substituting football enthusiast? Back was the cagey woman who’d raised his suspicions last night. It reminded him not to let down his guard, no matter how easily she disarmed him.
A couple of hours later, after checking various establishments for Sofia’s wallet, James fed another coin into the parking meter, then joined her at Timeless Gifts’ front window.
“Javi would love this.” The wistful note in her voice caught at him, as did the still way that she stood, as if breathing wasn’t a given.
A miniature train rattled by. It barreled through a replica Christmas village.
“We had a set like this when we were kids. We were obsessed with it, especially Jesse. Every birthday and holiday, we’d beg for new tracks, buildings, landscape, accessories until it’d taken up most of the living room. We even changed it up with the seasons, and Christmas used to be our favorite time to transform it into a wonderland.”
Where was it now?
Probably moldering in the attic with the rest of the decorations since Jesse’s passing. He should toss the items. Just thinking about them was like worrying a cavity, his thoughts running over them this time of year automatically, unconsciously, checking to see if the memories still hurt.
They did.
“It sounds amazing.” She dabbed at her red nose with a tissue. “I never had toys like that.”
“How come?” He tucked in the loose end of her scarf, his fingers lingering on her throat’s silken flesh.
Her expression grew guarded. “It’s getting colder,” she said, her silent I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it equally clear.
He squashed down his rising curiosity. “Any other place you might have visited yesterday?”
“No. That’s it.” She shoved her hair off her face and her forehead scrunched as if she had a headache. “I thought we’d find it at the diner. It’s the last place I remember using it.”
“No one turned it in yesterday or today.”
When the driver of a passing pickup honked, he waved, then dropped his hand quick. It was Boyd Loveland and his adopted son, Daryl. They passed by in a beat-up Chevy with the number 812 painted on its doors. Must be entering it in tonight’s smashup derby, he mused. The last of the season. If so, Justin would be gunning for them.
“What am I going to do?” Sofia asked quietly, eyes closed, only speaking to herself.
“Let me pay for the tickets.” It was the perfect solution, one that’d save his mother from becoming more attached the longer Javi and Sofia stayed.
“No.”
“What?” He gaped at her.
“I don’t take handouts.”
“Then pay me back once you’re settled and begin your new job.”
“I—I can’t. You see, I need my wallet.”
Her intensity took him aback. As did her pinched expression. She looked afraid. But of what? Did she have pills in there? Drugs? She’d reassured him of her recovery last night, but this desperation brought back bad memories of Jesse and the frantic lengths he’d go to for his next fix.
“You can get new IDs. I’ll give you money beyond the fares. Enough to help you have your fresh start. Nothing is irreplaceable.”
Except drugs. He would not allow another abuser near his mother.
“Some things are. Please take me back to the ranch.”
“Then let’s at least report it to the police,” he insisted. What was she hiding? “You can send them your Portland information once you’re settled. They’ll let you know if it turns up.”
Her tan skin turned a sickly yellow, and she backed up a step. “No. No cops.” She turned in a small circle, her eyes darting. “Please take me back to the ranch.” She ran a shaking hand through her locks. “I need to think.”
He nodded, resigned, then led the way to the truck, his doubts rising. Based on her erratic behavior, his gut told him she threatened his ranch’s peace. He held open the door and breathed in Sofia’s light vanilla scent as she scooted up onto the seat.
