Heart of Rockies 03 - More Than a Feeling Read online

  “Well, can you blame me?” Her heart thumped in her ears. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be hiding in the pantry—”

  “Hiding?” Sawyer laughed. “Why would I be hiding in the pantry? Bryce asked me to fix the shelves while he was gone.”

  She shot to her feet. “At five o’clock in the morning?”

  He was slower to get up, but at least he wasn’t grimacing anymore. “I’m on shift at eight.”

  Panic started to pump through her again, but this time it had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the way he looked at her, the way his gaze drifted down her body. She crossed her arms so he couldn’t guess her cup size. “How’d you get in here, anyway?”

  Sawyer casually leaned against the kitchen counter, still looking her over like he appreciated what he saw. “I have a key. I’m staying here.”

  The room whirled. Not what she’d hoped to hear. That was bad. Very, very bad. It had been hard enough to avoid him before, but if he stayed here it’d be impossible! “I thought you were moving to Denver,” she said, going for a casual, conversational tone. Damn the squeak of panic. But Sawyer was supposed to be leaving for good. Rumor had it that his wife had cheated on him with one of his friends. As far as she knew, he couldn’t wait to get out of Aspen.

  He shrugged. “The house sold faster than I thought. I still have a month left at work.”

  Fabulous. That was just her luck. The last thing she needed was a cop poking around the Walker Mountain Ranch.

  “So what’s with the panic attack?” he asked again, sounding more like a cop this time.

  She busied herself with unpacking the rest of her kitchen utensils from her bag. “What’d you mean?”

  “You know what I mean. I know what a panic attack looks like, Ruby.”

  “It wasn’t a panic attack,” she insisted, then focused on lining up her measuring cups so he couldn’t read the flush on her face. “I was surprised. That’s all. No big deal.” She peeked over at him.

  His eyes narrowed into skepticism. “Do you hyperventilate every time you’re surprised?”

  No. But she was about to hyperventilate right then. “Why do I feel like you’re interrogating me?” she demanded in case he could see how weak she felt. Now that the adrenaline had drained away, her legs and arms shuddered with a growing frailty. The memories were closer, breathing down her neck. If she would’ve hit Derek with a rolling pin, he would’ve broken her jaw…

  “Ruby? Is everything okay?” Sawyer asked quietly.

  Crumpling the market bag in her shaky hands, she turned and smiled. “Everything’s great.” She’d learned how to lie, how to cover up the truth a smile. “I’m so sorry about your…” The blush made a strong comeback. “Um…do you want ice or anything?”

  A smirk made him look less guarded. “Do I want to walk around with an icepack on my crotch? No thanks. I’ll live.”

  “Suit yourself.” She sashayed past him like nothing had happened, like her stomach hadn’t tightened into a painful knot. “I should get to work, then.”

  “You’re sure everything’s okay?” Sawyer called behind her.

  “Of course.” She unstacked the stainless mixing bowls from the shelf above the sink.

  “All right, then. Guess I’ll get back to work, too,” he said slowly. The pantry door opened and then clicked shut.

  But something told her that wasn’t the end of the conversation.

  Chapter Two

  Sawyer shoved the hammer into his toolbox and latched it. He considered putting his sweatshirt back on but then thought better of it. Best not to risk spooking Ruby again. Who knew where she’d nail him this time. Another shot to the nuts like that and he’d need more than an icepack.

  He just might need a massage…

  Whoa. Easy. Those weren’t the kind of thoughts he should entertain right now. And Ruby didn’t need them, either, apparently. Didn’t matter what she said—that whole scene in the kitchen earlier wasn’t normal fear. When he stepped out of the pantry, he’d seen something almost primal come over her face, a sickening fear, the kind he’d only witnessed on victims. When she looked at him, she hadn’t seen him. When he’d talked to her, she couldn’t hear him. It was like she was somewhere else.

  So never mind that the woman had long red hair, round full cheeks, soft radiant skin, and the most perfect lips he’d ever seen. Never mind her Marilyn Monroe body with all those tempting curves. Something was off with Ruby. The whole panic-attack thing was weird enough, but add to that the fact that no one knew anything about her, and he had a good old-fashioned mystery on his hands.

  Who was she? Where’d she come from? More important, what did she want at the Walker Mountain Ranch? One year ago she’d shown up in town. Aunt Elsie took her in, no questions asked. Even though he’d warned her about that kind of charity. She’d accused him of being jaded. How else was a veteran cop supposed to be? Being jaded was part of the job description. And since he was moving away, there’d be no one to keep an eye on things and make sure Ruby wasn’t a liability to Bryce.

  After the recent thefts they’d had, they couldn’t be too careful.

  He heaved his toolbox off the shelf. “Ruby?” he called through the closed pantry door.

  “Yeah?” Her response was so soft he barely heard it.

  “I’m coming out now. Just wanted to warn you.” He gave the words a few seconds to sink in and then opened the door and strode into the kitchen.

  Ruby stood over a KitchenAid mixer, which was whirring away with another one of her tasty creations, which he’d heartily enjoyed for the past year. Something must’ve been in the oven, too, because the kitchen smelled like the inside of a cinnamon roll, rich and buttery. He inhaled. “Wow. Something smells amazing.”

  She didn’t look up.

  Was it just him, or did those rosy apple cheeks suddenly look pale?

  Somewhere a timer dinged. Clearly avoiding his eyes, Ruby brushed past him, the scent of vanilla and brown sugar trailing behind her.

  Damn. Was it the kitchen that smelled so good, or was it her? He leaned back against the countertop and let himself watch her hips sway as she bent to slide the tray of cinnamon rolls out of the oven. When she turned around, he was still watching her. She paused, bracing the tray of fresh, plump cinnamon rolls out in front of her, and if he wasn’t hard before, well…what could he say? He had a weakness for baked goods. And curves. It’d been a while since he’d let himself appreciate the finer parts of a woman. Kaylee’d put a stop to that last year when he’d caught her in bed with Jace. That’d been enough to curb his libido. Until he’d noticed Ruby, that was.

  “Um. Do you need something?” the woman asked, her neck splotching.

  “Yeah.” Grinning, Sawyer pulled out a stool from the kitchen island. “I need a cinnamon roll.”

  Her eyes flared wide. “Excuse me?”

  “After what you put me through earlier, I think I deserve a cinnamon roll.” He gave his best puppy-dog look. The one that’d always worked with Kaylee. “Don’t you?”

  “Oh.” She slid the tray on top of the oven and swiped the back of her hand across her forehead. “Sure. Yeah. That’s fine.” If her rigid posture was any indication, it wasn’t fine. Not to her, at least. But that didn’t bother him much. Hanging out in the kitchen would give him the chance to get to know her better, to figure out what she was hiding. For Bryce’s sake. Not that it would be torture to spend the extra time with her or anything.

  Without a word, Ruby hurried to the cabinet next to the fridge and pulled out a plate. Using a huge spatula, she scooped out a mountainous cinnamon roll, then smothered it with a creamy homemade frosting.

  He’d be lying if he said his mouth wasn’t watering.

  When she slid the plate in front of him, he was pretty sure her hand trembled.

  “Thanks,” he said cheerfully.

  She turned away. Yeah. She was definitely doing her best to avoid him, but he wasn’t about to make it easy for her. “Ca
n I have a fork?” he asked politely. Not to be a bastard or anything, but he was enjoying this more than he should’ve.

  “Oh. Sure. Of course,” she sputtered, her face glowing with a sheen of perspiration. Man, he’d seen a convicted felon hold up better during an interrogation in the box.

  Ruby handed him the fork, then sprinted back to her mixer, which was still whirring away.

  He watched her all the way. Damn, she had a nice ass. Especially in those tight jeans. Of course, analyzing the curve of her ass wasn’t exactly part of his mission. Now was not the time for him to get sidetracked by a woman. Not after everything he’d been through with Kaylee in the past two years. If there was one thing that whole experience had taught him, it was how to recognize when a woman was keeping secrets. And Ruby definitely had something to hide. Which meant he had to keep himself in check. No matter how perfect her ass was.

  Averting his eyes, he sawed off a bite of cinnamon roll and slipped it into his mouth. Damn. The woman could bake. The buttery frosting melted in his mouth and there it was again—that flare of desire. The one that had been hibernating in the cave of his disappointment. Doing his best to stuff it back down, he focused on eating.

  Across the kitchen Ruby flicked off the mixer and detached the bowl. She peered into whatever it was she was making and frowned. He took the opportunity to get her talking. First thing he had to do was establish credibility. Interrogation 101. So he took another bite, moaning slightly for effect. Then he licked the fork. “Best cinnamon roll I’ve ever tasted. Seriously.” That was no lie. “You’ve got a gift, Ruby.”

  “Glad you like it,” she rasped, still studying the contents of her mixing bowl.

  He set down the fork. “How long have you been working here again?”

  “Almost a year.” She dumped a mound of dough onto the countertop and pressed her hands into it.

  “Where’re you from?” he asked, trying to distract himself from the way her hands kneaded the dough roughly into a flat square. He’d be willing to bet those hands of hers were pretty damn capable.

  She froze. “Um. I’m from out east.”

  “Out east” could’ve meant a thousand different things, but now he remembered. Months ago, when he’d pulled her over for parking illegally, she had North Carolina plates. “That’s right. North Carolina.”

  “How’d you—”

  “I pulled you over once, remember?” She’d been with Paige Harper at the time, who was once a guide at the Walker Mountain Ranch. Now she was married to Ben Noble, gazillionaire and one of Bryce’s best friends. The two of them owned their own ranch where Paige did equine therapy.

  It was weird when he’d approached the car that day. Ruby hadn’t even looked at him. Hadn’t said one word. He’d thought she was just shy, but that day she’d acted exactly the way she was acting now—her gaze shifting, her face flaming.

  Sawyer finished off the cinnamon roll and chewed thoughtfully. He’d never gotten around to asking for Ruby’s insurance information or registration. Come to think of it, he’d never even gotten a look at her driver’s license.

  “Can I get you anything else?” she asked with a squeak of insecurity. Yet another evasive maneuver.

  “Nah.” He stood and carted his dishes over to the sink, rinsing them the way Aunt Elsie had trained him to do. After securing them in the dishwasher, he turned to Ruby. She’d gone back to kneading the bread dough.

  “So where in North Carolina?” he asked, leaning back, crossing his legs at the ankles.

  “Charlotte area,” she answered quickly, like this was an interrogation instead of a friendly conversation.

  “That’s quite a ways from Aspen,” he observed. “Is your family still there?”

  At the mention of family, a dark expression dulled her skin’s radiant glow. “I’m sorry, Sawyer, but I don’t have time to talk.” She didn’t sound sorry. The waver in her tone made her sound downright scared. “The kids will be back soon and I have a lot of work to do.”

  “Right. Sure.” He straightened and gathered up his tools. “I should get ready for my shift, anyway.” For another few seconds Sawyer watched her knead that dough, noting how stiff her movements were, how she kept her head down, her eyes lowered. Typical nonverbal cues of a guilty party.

  What the hell was Ruby James hiding?

  He obviously wasn’t going to find out today. She’d completely shut down. Good thing he had one more month in Aspen.

  “Guess I’ll see you around,” he said, then walked out the door.

  Oh, yeah. He’d make sure he saw plenty of Ruby James.

  Chapter Three

  Crash! A whole mixing bowl of flour hit the floor, resounding like the clatter of a cymbal. Ruby stared down at the white, powdery mess now scattered around Elsie’s gleaming ceramic-tiled floors. Damn it. It was the third bowl she’d dropped since Sawyer left the kitchen three hours ago.

  “Oh, my!” Elsie Walker yelped, rushing out from the pantry. She was the quintessential storybook grandmother, short and petite with coiffed white hair and those luminous blue eyes that seemed to run in the family. Though wrinkled from years of laughter and happy smiles, her skin had a radiant glow that Ruby envied.

  “Are you all right, dear?” The woman flew to the cabinet underneath the kitchen sink and dug out the hand broom. Again.

  “I’m fine,” she assured her, but the words were hollow. Her hands hadn’t stopped shaking since the whole scene with Sawyer.

  “You seem skittish today,” Elsie probed as she swept up the pile of flour. “You’ve been acting like a spooked cat all morning.”

  Was it that obvious? Ruby shoved her bangs out of her eyes. “Sorry. Just tired, I guess.”

  “Why don’t you go on home, then?” Elsie rose as graceful and composed as ever and scurried over to dump the flour in the trash. “I can take care of things today. It’s high time you took a day off, anyway. It’s been months.”

  Ruby sighed and fisted her hands so they’d stop throbbing with the hard pound of her heart. “That’s okay. I have to finish up these cookies for the kids.” And what would she do at home? Worry about Sawyer. Overanalyze everything she’d said that morning. Give herself an ulcer.

  That’s how her stomach had felt ever since he’d questioned her…touched her…like a hole was burning straight through her. Could he tell she was nervous? He sure seemed suspicious. And she’d obviously been flustered, with all of that sputtering and blushing. It didn’t help that Sawyer Hawkins was utterly and completely gorgeous. Tall, dark, and hot. Lordy, he was the kind of man who would fluster her even without all the questions!

  “Ruby?” Elsie waved a hand in front of her face.

  She shook the image of Sawyer out of her head. “Sorry. What?”

  “I asked you if you’ve seen the new pantry shelves Sawyer installed this morning.”

  Even the sound of his name on the woman’s lips gave her heart a serious jolt. “Um. No. I mean, yes.” Technically she’d seen the shelves, albeit very briefly when she’d hit him where it counts. “He’s very nice.” Heat engulfed her face. “Wait. I mean the shelves. The shelves are very nice.” Holy Moses, what was the matter with her? She couldn’t even talk!

  Elsie’s lips pursed into a sly smile. “So you saw Sawyer, then, did you?”

  Ruby shoved up the sleeves of her thermal Henley. She really had to start wearing tank tops to work. The hot ovens in there practically boiled the air. “Um, yes. I saw him.” Nailed him with my rolling pin, potentially damaging his future ability to have children…

  She squeezed her eyes shut. She could just see the jokes and comments that knowledge would draw from the rest of the employees at their next Wednesday night dinner.

  “He’s a looker, that Sawyer. Isn’t he, dear?” Elsie asked in her innocent little-old-lady voice. As if she wasn’t fishing for Ruby’s innermost thoughts. Which she had to keep anonymous.

  “He is nice-looking,” she agreed, because she couldn’t deny the obvious.
/>   “Nice person, too.” Elsie’s tone prompted her to agree.

  “I wouldn’t know—”

  Elsie’s phone went off, blaring “Rocky Mountain High.”

  Whew! Ruby turned back to the mixing bowl. Saved by John Denver.

  “This is Elsie,” the woman said, sounding slightly disappointed to have been interrupted from such an important conversation. “What?” Her shocked gasp spun Ruby around.

  The woman’s face had gone white. “Oh, dear lord,” she seemed to choke out. “Is everyone all right?”

  The burning sensation in Ruby’s stomach sharpened into a stabbing pain. The kids. It must be Bryce. Something had happened. Legs numbing, she rushed to Elsie’s side.

  “We’ll be right there,” Elsie said, gesturing for Ruby to follow her out the back door. Jogging down the steps, the woman shoved her phone in her pocket. “There’s been an accident. We have to get to the trailhead,” she huffed out, and Ruby wasn’t sure her legs would keep working.

  “One of the kids?” she managed as she and Elsie raced down the dirt road at the back of the lodge. The sun seemed blinding instead of bright and warm, and the trees looked fuzzy.

  “No. It’s Thomas. He fell.”

  Thomas Richmond, the retired pediatrician who’d started a foundation to help foster kids develop self-esteem and a sense of worth. He organized the trips to the ranch every year. Such a kind man. Ruby had met him only a couple of times. He had to be in his late sixties…“Is he okay?”

  “Bryce didn’t say.” Elsie yanked up the utility garage’s door and hopped into the driver’s seat of one of the ranch’s two-seater ATVs. She snatched a black helmet off the dash and shimmied it onto her head, transforming her into something that resembled a badass biker grandma. “Get in, dear. We have to hurry.”

  “Are you sure we should drive? Maybe we should walk…” Nearly once a month Ruby heard a news story about some horrible ATV accident that’d maimed or killed someone.

  “Get in!” Elsie turned the key in the ignition. There was a toe-curling grinding noise, then the engine roared.