- -
- 100%
- +
He paused, overcome with nostalgia. It seemed only yesterday Eden had been in the throes of her sparkly princess phase. Yet now she was a sullen stranger who stood as tall as his shoulder. The T-rex-toting girl wobbled on her dress-up shoes, then went down with a splat in her front yard.
Shushing Dolly’s frenetic woofing, he hurried toward the kid. “Are you okay?”
Her bottom lip trembled. Patches of mud covered her knees. “Ow!”
Previous parenting experience had taught him that sometimes too much sympathy reminded the child she was in pain, while matter-of-fact conversation could work as a distraction. He reeled in Dolly’s retractable leash to keep her from licking the girl’s face. “Why do you carry a dinosaur in your purse?”
“It’s a dog, but you hafta use your imagination. My chihuahua got ripped.” The way she said the word, it came out “chowawowa.” She sniffled. “Mommy’s gonna fix her but she’s been too busy with other sewing.”
He helped the little girl to her feet. “So, why do you carry a chihuahua in your purse?”
“Because I’m fabulous.” She punctuated her statement with an exasperated duh look.
“Get your hands off my daughter!” A dark-haired woman flew through the open door at such high speed that he half expected her to face-plant on the lawn, too. She snatched the girl into a protective hug against her body.
The child wiggled, either in embarrassment or protest at her mother’s grip. Zane had the absent thought that the freckles smattering the woman’s cheeks seemed out of place, too sweet and potentially girlish for someone who’d barreled down on him like an avenging angel.
He took a step back, murmuring softly to Dolly, whose hackles had risen at the woman’s shrill approach. “Ma’am, I was just checking to make sure she wasn’t hurt when she fell. Zane Winchester.” He tipped his white cowboy hat in greeting. “I live next door. You must be the lady Kelsey and Dave got to house-sit?”
She cast him a fleeting glance before returning her attention to the little girl. “You scared me, Belle. What are you doing outside? Never, never open the door without me! I told you we’d play in the yard after I went to the bathroom. And after you changed shoes.”
The girl’s eyes, which were the same golden-brown as her mother’s, grew wider and wider, then filled with belated tears. Her left leg buckled dramatically as if she were in too much pain to stand. Zane tried to suppress his grin. And the award for best actress under ten goes to...
“I hurt my leg, Mommy.”
“Leaving the house without an adult, you’re lucky you weren’t hurt much worse!” The woman plunged a hand through her short hair, let out an aggrieved sigh, then turned back to Zane. “I suppose I should apologize for snapping your head off.”
“You were worried about your child and don’t know me,” he said. “I’m a parent myself. I get it.” She was new to the area, surrounded by strangers—he’d been in California collecting his daughter when the brunette had moved in two weekends ago. Maybe she’d lived in a bad neighborhood before this. It would certainly explain her eyeing him as if he were a convicted criminal.
She tugged on her daughter’s arm. “We should get you cleaned up.”
“Then can we blow bubbles?” Belle negotiated. “We’ve been inside all day. It’s boring!”
“Maybe. In the backyard.”
“I still haven’t pet the doggy,” Belle said pitifully. “What’s his name?”
“She’s a girl,” Zane said. He should walk away. It would be easier for Belle’s mama to coax the child inside without the temptation of the dog. But he found himself curious about his new neighbors. “Her name’s Dolly.”
“Dolly? That doesn’t sound like a dog name.”
“Tell me about it,” he commiserated. “I’d feel a lot less silly yelling something like ‘Scout’ across the dog park. But I found her while I was doing cleanup after Hurricane Dolly and started calling her that before I realized I was keeping her.” In a lot of ways, it had been fitting to name her after a natural disaster. Only a puppy back in 2008, she’d done some significant damage to his belongings in the first few months he’d owned her.
“Change her name,” Belle instructed as she patted Dolly on the head. “That’s what me and Mommy did.”
He frowned, puzzled. “You changed your pet’s name?”
At the same time Belle informed him in tragic tones that she did not have a pet, her mother stammered, “N-nicknames. She means nicknames! Belle is short for Isabelle and I go by Alex instead of Alexandra. Alex Hunt.”
“I’m Zane,” he repeated. “Nice to meet you.” He held out his hand, but it took her a moment before she shook it, watching him warily the entire time. She was a stark change from bubbly Kelsey.
Alex raised her gaze, starting to say something, but then she froze like a possum in oncoming headlights.
“Ms. Hunt? Everything okay?”
She eyed the encircled silver star pinned to his denim button-down shirt. He’d been working this morning and hadn’t bothered to remove the badge. “Interesting symbol,” she said slowly.
“Represents the Texas Rangers.”
“Like the baseball team?”
“No, ma’am. Like the law enforcement agency.” Maybe that would make her feel safer about her temporary home. He jerked his thumb toward his house. “You have a bona fide lawman living right next door.”
Beneath the freckles, her face went whiter than his hat. “Really? That’s...” She gave herself a quick shake. “Come on, Belle. Inside now. Before, um, before that mud stains.”
“Okay.” Belle hung her head but rallied long enough to add, “Bye, Mister Zane. I hope I get to pet Dolly again soon.”
From Alex’s behavior, Zane had a suspicion they wouldn’t be getting together for neighborly potluck dinners anytime in the near future. Instead of commenting on the kid’s likelihood of seeing Dolly again, he waved. “Bye, Belle. Stay fabulous.”
She beamed. “I will!”
Then mother and daughter disappeared into the house, the front door banging shut behind them.
“Is there something about me,” he asked Dolly, “that makes females want to slam doors?”
The only response he got from the dog was an impatient tug on her leash. “Right. I promised you a walk.” They started again down the sidewalk, but he found himself periodically glancing over his shoulder and pondering his new neighbors. Cute kid, but she seemed like a handful. And Alex Hunt, once she’d calmed from her mama-bear fury, was perhaps the most skittish woman he’d ever met. If she were a horse, she’d have to wear blinders to keep from jumping at her own shadow. Zane wondered if there was a Mr. Hunt in the picture.
Not that it mattered. The Hunts would only be here for a matter of months, and he had more pressing priorities than getting to know them. He didn’t have the time or energy to win over a nervous neighbor. He still had to figure out how to win over his daughter.
* * *
A RANGER. ALEX LEANED against the closed door for support, her palm pressed to her racing heart.
Plenty of women would experience an increase in their pulses at the sight of Zane’s green eyes and coal-black hair, but she was more concerned with his occupation than his chiseled cheekbones or broad shoulders. An honest-to-God, badge-wearing, gun-toting, sworn-to-uphold-the-law Texas freaking Ranger! Bryce had neglected to mention that.
Josie, without a shy bone in her body—or any concern for the expensive area rug that didn’t belong to them—plopped right down in the entryway and began stripping off her muddy leggings. Not Josie, Alex reminded herself. Belle. If she was going to keep from blowing their covers, the new names had to be all the time, even in her own thoughts. Otherwise, someone was going to address her as Alex in public and she was going to forget they meant her.
“Belle” happened to be the name of her daughter’s favorite Disney princess. She’d seen the movie for the first time last month and had watched the DVD approximately six hundred times since then. Making the switch to the new name had been easy enough, especially once Alex explained that Belle meant beautiful. Her little girl had liked that, even if she hadn’t understood why she had to commit to a single new name and couldn’t keep changing it every week.
Alex’s alias had been chosen for her. When Bryce had handed her the ID, she’d been so fixated on how odd she looked in the picture—her hair dyed espresso with auburn highlights and cropped in a sleek bob that hugged her jawline—that it had taken a moment for the name to even register. She’d told Bryce to surprise her, paranoid that anything she picked would subconsciously hold meaning for her and somehow provide a lead for an astute private investigator.
“Alexandra Hunt?” she’d read, trying to imagine herself as an Alexandra. It seemed too exotic and sophisticated for a single mom whose life consisted of more macaroni than martinis. Then again, being a fugitive was pretty exotic.
Bryce’s face had reddened. “She was a character from an old video game, one of the first that got me hooked on gaming. I had kind of a cyber crush on her.”
“You named me for a character?” she’d shrieked. “Bryce, anonymity is our goal here! Why not just send me out into the world calling me Lara Croft?”
He’d been unfazed by her anxiety. “Okay, first, there could be lots of civilians who coincidentally have that name. Secondly, no one’s going to make the connection. This wasn’t a bestselling game. The ideas were solid, but the packaging and distribution...” Then he’d gone on a tangent about software platforms and market shares.
“Mommy?” Belle stood naked, hands on her hips. Alex had been too lost in thought to realize her daughter hadn’t stopped with the muddy pants. “Since I got dirty outside, don’t you think I should take a bath? Do we have any more of those crayons?”
The sudden attention to hygiene was an obvious ploy to pull out her favorite tub toys and splash around, but Alex was all in favor of that plan. Though she knew she couldn’t keep her daughter housebound for the next five and a half months, she didn’t like the idea of Belle hanging out in the yard, within easy conversational distance of the lawman next door.
“A bath sounds like a great idea,” Alex said. Maybe she’d treat herself to a similar luxury tonight—a long hot bubble bath after Belle was asleep and the doors were securely locked. She still couldn’t believe her daughter had taken advantage of the few minutes Alex had been in the bathroom to bolt out the front door, but dogs were a powerful enticement to the little girl. Belle’s fifth birthday was next month; the only present she’d asked for was a puppy.
That’s all I need. Then I’d be a fugitive on the lam with my fugitive princess daughter and our fugitive dog. A bubble of hysteria rose in her throat.
“Mommy? Why are you laughing?”
“No reason, punkin. Come on, let’s get you clean again.”
She followed her daughter upstairs to the bathroom, where Belle’s hot pink towel hung alongside the more color-coordinated linens belonging to the home’s owners. It was surreal to be here, surrounded by someone else’s furniture, someone else’s keepsakes, someone else’s wedding picture hanging on the wall. Everything was foreign. Between the unfamiliar setting, the ugly used car she’d given Bryce cash to purchase, the new hair and the new name, Alex hardly knew who she was anymore.
I’m a mother. And I have a daughter to keep safe.
Everything else—including her nausea over lying to a law enforcement officer and the terror that she might get caught—was unimportant.
Chapter Three
As soon as Eden rounded the corner to the ladies’ room, Zane turned to Officer Ben Torres. “I’m sorry.” The words caught unpleasantly in Zane’s throat. Having to apologize for his daughter stung. He wished others could see the sunny, sweet girl he remembered. “We’ve been lousy company tonight.”
Ben, a Fredericksburg police officer, was recovering from an on-duty injury. When the two men had talked on Monday, Ben had mentioned that he had a doctor’s appointment on Wednesday and was scheduled to graduate from a wheelchair to crutches. Since he’d received the medical okay this morning, Zane had offered to buy him dinner in celebration. Ben had suggested the Torres family restaurant where he ate for free, assuring Zane it was the thought that counted. Zane hadn’t cared where they ate as long as it got him out of the house. The strained suppers at home, with Eden barely responding to questions about her new high school, were taking their toll. Especially after yesterday’s call from the guidance counselor that she was using her midsemester move as an excuse for not doing homework, claiming that she was still trying to catch up and that her workload was daunting. Zane knew his daughter, a former honors student, was capable of far more when she applied herself. He was angry, but he hadn’t meant to inflict their prickly relationship on innocent bystanders.
“Don’t worry about me,” Ben said. “I’m growing accustomed to lousy company. My brother’s been living with me since he and his wife separated. He was always a serious guy, but now he’s downright grim. Next to him, Eden’s full of bubbly cheer.”
“She used to be. There was a time...” Zane trailed off uncomfortably, not in the habit of discussing personal matters.
Recalling Eden’s childhood exuberance reminded him of the spirited girl who’d accosted him and Dolly over the weekend. Instinct told him Belle Hunt didn’t have a father in the immediate picture. For one thing, Kelsey had said she was leaving the care of her house to a lady, not a family. Had Alexandra Hunt needed a place to get back on her feet after her marriage fell apart? He silently wished her luck—single parenting wasn’t for wimps.
He ground his teeth. “Do you think all children of divorced parents turn bitter?”
“Divorce is tough, but you’re oversimplifying,” Ben chided. “Don’t you think it’s difficult for a teen to change schools midyear and make new friends no matter what her parents’ marital status? Besides, moodiness is normal for teenage girls. I grew up with a sister, remember?” He contorted his face into a comical mask of horror.
“Oh, please. Grace is one of the most hospitable people I’ve ever met!”
The three Torres siblings jointly owned The Twisted Jalapeño, but Chef Grace Torres was the one who ran the restaurant.
Ben rolled his eyes. “Sure, she’s the soul of hospitality now, as an adult trying to drum up repeat business for this place, but you should have seen her at fourteen! Maybe what Eden needs is a woman who can relate to her. Too bad your last date was back when dinosaurs were leaving those footprints in the Hondo Creek bed.”
“I haven’t noticed anyone special in your life, either,” Zane grumbled. Although he had noticed Ben sneaking surreptitious glances toward Amy Winthrop, the bartender. “Speaking of women, do you know anything about Alex Hunt? She’s living next to me temporarily, house-sitting for Kelsey and Dave Comer.”
“We should ask Grace.” Ben nodded at his crutches. “I haven’t exactly been man about town lately. Thank God the festival starts this weekend. I’m going stir-crazy.”
Frederick-Fest was a weeklong annual tradition that attracted tourists from all over the state and vendors from all over the country. Zane would be working some shifts to assist with security and crowd control.
“Will you be mobile enough to volunteer at the festival?” Zane asked.
“Not in my usual capacity, but I can work the first aid booth when other people need a lunch break. And Amy and I are going to sit at a table handing out promotional stuff for the restaurant.”
“Ah.” Zane smirked. “The lovely Amy.”
“Who’s Amy?”
Both men started as Eden slid back into her chair. Apparently she’d killed as much time as she possibly could in the restroom by braiding her blond hair and applying far too much makeup.
Zane did a double take. “Any particular reason you’re trying to make yourself look like a raccoon?”
Slashes of red appeared on her cheeks, and he regretted his words. He didn’t approve of the pound of cosmetics she’d slathered on her face, but he shouldn’t embarrass her in front of Ben. He was grateful when Ben answered her question, heading off any sarcastic retort.
“Amy is my sister’s roommate. She works here.” He gestured toward the bar and waved.
A pretty woman with purple-tinted hair waved back, making Zane ashamed of his knee-jerk reaction. Amy, with her tattoo and the line of earrings adorning her ear, was kindhearted and responsible. Maybe he shouldn’t let a couple of pink streaks in Eden’s hair and her enthusiastic use of eyeliner bother him so much.
“I was just telling your dad,” Ben continued, “that Amy and I will be working a shift at the festival. It starts this weekend.”
“Yeah, I heard some kids in class talking about a festival.” Eden sounded intrigued.
“We used to go every year as a family,” Zane said. “You remember the pony rides and all the food? I used to dance with you.”
“Ew.” Eden’s grimace made it clear she would not welcome a dance with her father at the polka pavilion.
Their waiter appeared, plates of hot entrées lined up his arm in such a seemingly precarious way that it was a miracle he hadn’t dropped everything on his walk from the kitchen.
“You’re going to love the food,” Ben promised. He’d expressed surprise when he’d learned this was Eden’s first visit to the Jalapeño, admonishing Zane that two and a half weeks was far too long a wait.
Ben’s words proved prophetic. After the first few bites, Eden wolfed down her food with the gusto and appetite Zane remembered from his own teenage years—when his mother used to tease that he couldn’t come grocery shopping with her because he’d eat half the purchases in the car before she could get them home. Between Eden’s enjoyment of the food and periodic questions about the festival, it was the most animated Zane had seen her since her arrival.
God bless the Torres family, he found himself thinking at the end of the evening. Chef Grace Torres had come to their table to say hi and make sure everything was delicious, and Eden had seemed a little starstruck to meet someone who was going to appear on a reality show.
Grace had explained that the producers wanted to film the cooking competition during the festival. “When the first episode airs, Amy and I are going to host a viewing party. You and your dad will have to come. Unless of course I lose. In which case, I plan to hibernate for a year in the longest pity party Gillespie County has ever seen.”
“There’s no way you can lose,” Eden had protested. “Your food is awesome!”
But once they were in the truck after dinner, Zane was on his own again, without Ben or Grace to ride to his rescue. “Glad you liked dinner,” he told his daughter. “We’ll have to eat there more often.”
Eden nodded promptly—confirming that the Jalapeño was the first thing she officially liked about Fredericksburg—but remained quiet.
He cleared his throat. “I, uh...I shouldn’t have said you look like a raccoon.”
She flinched, which wasn’t the reaction he’d hoped to get.
“I have to be at the festival most of the weekend,” he said. “Want to come with me and check it out?” When she shrugged noncommittally, he played the ace up his sleeve. “Ben mentioned the other day that Grace and the other contestants on that reality show will be doing some live demonstrations. You want an in-person sneak peek? Who knows—if the camera crew pans the audience, maybe you’ll end up on TV, too.”
She swiveled in her seat. “You think so? That would be awesome.”
“I don’t see why not. It happens at sporting events all the time. The producers might even interview people to get their opinion on the food. If there’s one thing the festival has plenty of, it’s food.”
“What about rides?” Eden asked. “I love roller coasters.”
“Well, there aren’t any big coasters, but there are some carnival rides.” He was giving her a rundown of attractions and scheduled events when they pulled up in front of the house.
Eden was engaged enough in the conversation that when he walked down the driveway to get the mail, she came with him rather than disappear into the house. A high-pitched “Hey, Mister Zane!” caused them both to turn at the same time.
In the driveway next door, Belle and her mother were walking toward their beater of a car. The vehicle was easily older than Eden. Hell, it might be older than him.
Even in the dim illumination provided by the streetlight, he could see Alex scowl. Now that he’d had time to mull it over, he was almost certain she was going through a divorce. Maybe she was at that stage where she disliked all men. It was a more palatable explanation than her hating him personally, for no discernible reason.
“Hey, Belle,” he called back, not breaking stride as he proceeded to the mailbox. The Hunts were obviously on their way out, and he didn’t plan to intrude on Alex’s evening.
“Who’s the cute little kid?” Eden asked.
“Temporary neighbors, house-sitting for the people who live there. They moved in about the same time you got here.” Too bad Belle wasn’t a decade older. Then maybe she and Eden could commiserate about both being new girls.
Eden seemed unbothered by the age difference, though. She was already walking toward the other two females. “Hi,” she chirped. “I’m Eden Winchester. I like your crown!”
Belle wore yet another tiara—this one paired with a feather boa. She preened at Eden’s compliment, but then frowned. “Did you get hit in the face? I saw a movie where a bad guy got hit and his eye looked like that. But it was just one, not both.”
Alex slapped a palm to her forehead. “That’s not nice, Belle.”
“I didn’t get punched,” Eden said. “It’s makeup.”
“Oh!” Belle brightened. “I love makeup. I have a whole kit. Nail polish and lipstick and skin glitter. You should play makeup with me, and I’ll show you how. Yours looks funny.”
“Like a raccoon?” Eden flashed a grin over her shoulder, and Zane’s heart squeezed in his chest. He felt as if he and his daughter shared a joke, as if they were finally a team rather than two opposing sides. Her smile bought years of memories cascading back. That’s the Eden I know.
He ambled toward the three women, suddenly loath to let the Hunts get away. “Where are you ladies headed?”
“The store,” Belle announced. “Mommy forgot dinner.”
“I didn’t forget,” Alex insisted. “I made a pot of homemade sauce, and it’s been simmering for hours. I just didn’t realize we had no spaghetti. I’m still not used to living out of someone else’s pantry. At home, noodles are a staple.”
Zane wondered where “home” was. “I think I have spaghetti. Why don’t you come over, and we can check?”
She actually retreated, bumping into the side of her car. He was half-surprised the door didn’t fall off the ancient sedan. Surely her former home was within a few hours’ drive. That clunker wouldn’t have made it far.
“Oh, no,” Alex said in a rush. “Belle and I don’t want to impose.”
Her daughter had other ideas. “Yay! Can I pet Dolly? Come on, Mommy.” She raced into the Winchesters’ driveway, telling Eden, “I met Dolly the other yesterday. She likes me!”
Eden nodded, her voice a pseudo-whisper. “Dolly has very good taste. She only likes the most special people.”
And the most “fabulous,” Zane thought with an inward smile. Perhaps he should feel guilty about their ganging up on Alex. She looked like she’d rather drink strychnine than investigate the contents of his kitchen, but after all, he was trying to do the woman a favor. She and Belle were probably starving. Why drive all the way to the grocery store?
“It’s no imposition,” Zane assured her. He gazed pointedly to the girls, who had linked hands, and lowered his voice. “Don’t look now, but I think you’re outvoted.”
“Are you going to the festival?” Eden asked Belle.
The little girl’s forehead puckered. “What’s a festival?”
“It’s a fair. There will be rides and performing animals and games to play.”