Chapter Twenty-one
The low hum of male voices awoke Sophie the next morning. The night was a blur. She had taken a shower and then fallen asleep in Jake’s big bed before her head even hit the pillow. With a growl, she snuggled farther into the bed and tried to go back to sleep.
“Get up, Sunshine.” Jake suddenly filled the doorway. “I know you’re awake.”
“No.” The pillow muffled her voice.
“Yes.” Jake moved into the room.
“I need sleep,” she mumbled, her eyes still closed.
“It seems we’ve had this discussion before.” Jake chuckled. “Quinn is here and has questions for you. Get dressed and come on out.”
Sophie groaned.
“Unless you want him to interview you in here.”
Sophie glared through one slightly opened eyelid. “Fine. Just give me a minute.”
“I will. Get up, sweetheart. We have a lot to talk about.” He retraced his steps out of the room.
Sophie sighed and opened both eyes to muted tones of navy and tan and sensual paintings. Her possessions perched against the far wall; Jake must’ve brought them in earlier. She rolled herself to a sitting position before gingerly standing. The room spun and then settled. She headed for the attached bath.
A warm shower brought some life to her limbs, and she felt marginally better after dressing in comfortable jeans and her favorite Chimp Eden T-shirt. She yanked her curls into a ponytail and ran pink lip gloss over her lips, then headed out to face the men waiting for her. All three of them.
They sat in the breakfast nook in faded jeans and long-sleeved T-shirts, thick mugs of steaming coffee on the oak table. The sliding glass door framed thick black clouds rumbling across a grumpy sky. Mineral Lake sat dark and still, waiting to get pummeled. Colton twirled leather gloves in his hand, his gaze idly following a tree branch slamming against the house. Quinn stopped whatever he’d been saying.
“Morning.” Jake rose and grabbed a red mug off the counter to hand her, then gestured her into the seat next to him. Congeniality softened his tone, but his eyes were granite hard. The thick fragrance of Colombian beans greeted her. She sniffed appreciatively as she sat, ignoring the set of Jake’s jaw.
“It’s decaf,” Quinn muttered with a glare at his own cup.
“I told you I wasn’t making two pots.” Jake reclaimed his seat.
“You three look like you’re heading out to work the ranch.” Sophie took a small sip and sighed as warmth filled her.
“We are.” Jake nodded toward the tumultuous clouds. “We have repairs to make all over the ranch, at least before the next storm hits—which should be late tonight or early tomorrow morning.”
“How’s Mrs. Shiller’s house?” Sophie asked Quinn.
Quinn shrugged. “I went by this morning and met with the fire marshal. The damage isn’t as extensive as we thought last night. The living room and stairwell sustained both fire and smoke damage, the kitchen just some smoke. We haven’t been able to track down Mrs. Shiller or Lily Roundtree yet, but they’ll check in with Lily’s niece one of these days. We have repairmen there already.”
“Any news on the notes?” she asked and Jake stiffened.
“No. Your prints were the only ones on the paper. And the handwriting isn’t familiar.” Quinn shook his head. “There are a lot of people who don’t want any development in the area. The tribe faced organized opposition when we built the casino even though we’re autonomous on our own land.” He rubbed his chin. “Though this seems like just one individual.”
“So was the Unabomber,” Jake said soberly. “My money’s on the Concerned Citizens Group.”
“Maybe,” Quinn allowed. “I’ll head out tomorrow and talk to Billy Johnson.”
“Rockefeller,” Sophie said with a small grin. Had her bout with the ketchup pissed off Billy enough that he’d try to kill her?
Quinn leaned forward. “Have you remembered anything? Noticed any strange cars around the neighborhood? Or any people walking or jogging down the street?”
Sophie shook her head. “I haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary.”
“That’s what I figured. I have deputies going door to door in Shiller’s neighborhood. Maybe somebody saw something.” Quinn took another drink of the unleaded brew and grimaced.
Silence sat comfortably around them until Colton pushed back from the table, his chair scraping across the thick wood floor. “Come on, Quinn. Let’s go saddle the horses.” He nodded to Jake. “We’ll meet you at the barn.” He dropped a quick kiss on Sophie’s head and left.
Quinn unfolded himself to his feet and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder when he passed her. “We’ll find who started the fire. You’ll be safe here today, just stay close, all right?” He gave her a gentle squeeze before following Colton out of the room.
“Will you be all right here for a few hours?” Jake leaned forward and took one of her hands in his.
Sophie nodded, his broad hand warming her more than the coffee, his dark eyes smiling at her. “I’ll be fine. I thought maybe I’d try out the studio today. I mean, since your mom and Leila went to so much trouble.”
A dimple twinkled from his pleased grin. “Do you need help with that?”
“No. And I’m not promising to stay.”
“I know.” He stood. “We need to talk. But right now I have to go make sure the steers are safely contained.”
“It’s a nice space to paint, and I may do the exhibit for Juliet.” She wrapped both hands around the warm cup.
“No pressure.” One knuckle under her chin tipped her face up for his lips to brush hers.
“Right,” she murmured with a raised eyebrow as he chuckled and moved across the kitchen.
“I’m not sure how long we’ll be, but you stick close to the ranch, all right? I’ll have my cell,” he said.
Sophie nodded as he left the kitchen and turned back toward her coffee. The fire had been meant for her. To harm or just scare, she wasn’t sure. Now she was staying at Jake’s, right where he wanted her. Maybe she should fly back to California for some perspective. But the canvases and oil paints beckoned her from the bedroom. It wouldn’t hurt to at least see how well the studio worked. She could just start one painting, since her day was free. It didn’t mean she was moving to Montana for any length of time.
Reassured, she finished her coffee before dodging into the bedroom where she pulled on a pale sweatshirt, gathered her art supplies, and darted out the front door. Her hair blew around her face as she ran toward the garage, climbed the wooden steps to the landing, and pushed open the door. Dim light cut through sparkling dust mites as she slammed the door with one booted foot. The room was as perfect as she remembered.
With a small smile, she glanced out the wide southern window to the storm lurking just over the lake. The urge to paint the scene bubbled through her veins, and she set up her easel and settled a pristine white canvas in place. She spread oils onto a board, chose the correct brush, and started to slide paint into a mood.
Several hours later, Sophie ran through the front door as darkness fell early from the oncoming storm. It had held itself at bay the entire day, almost as if it posed over the lake just to assist in her brush strokes. The phone rang as she finished stirring an aromatic beef stew in a Crock-Pot for Jake, who’d called earlier and hoped to be back soon.
“Hi, Sophie, it’s Melanie from the general store. The delivery guy just dropped off your new charcoals.”
Sophie fought to keep from asking why the petite teenager had known to call her at Jake’s. There weren’t many secrets in the small town. “How late are you open today?”
“About another hour; we want to miss the storm.”
“Okay, I’ll be right there.” She cast a wary glance upward then grabbed her keys and ran to the Jeep. It’d be at least an hour, maybe more, before the storm hit and she needed the charcoals to sketch out her paintings for the next day.
The storm held off as she drove the fifteen miles to the general store across from Doc Mooncaller’s. She parked, dodged inside, and paid Melanie for the box of charcoals just as the girl was shutting down the lights for the day.
Fat raindrops began to fall as she pulled into the street to head back to Jake’s, her new supplies perched safely on the backseat. The passenger door flew open and a lanky teenager leaped inside; Sophie jumped and slammed the brakes.
“Sorry if I scared you.” He turned sorrow-filled brown eyes her way.
Fear caught the breath in her throat. “I know you. You were in the crowd at the Concerned Citizens meeting.” Sophie eased the Jeep to the side of the road. The slam of drops on metal drowned out the sound of the running engine.
The kid nodded his blond buzz-cut head, his slender hands running along his dark jeans before he wiped his nose on the back of one sleeve. “I’m Jeremy.” He had to be fourteen, maybe fifteen.
“Hi.” For some reason, she felt calm.
“Jeremy Rockefeller.”
“Ah.”
“I, um…” A deep red blush stole across his features. “I wanted to apologize. For the fire.”
Her heart clutched. “
You
set the fire?”
“Yeah. I didn’t know you were pregnant.” His eyes filled with tears.
Sophie whirled on the boy. “What difference does that make? It was okay to kill me otherwise?” Fury lit her tone and she stifled the urge to shake the kid.
“Kill you?” Jeremy vehemently shook his head. “Jeez, lady, I wasn’t trying to kill you. Mrs. Shiller was out of town and you had that big tree right outside your window. I knew you’d be all right. Everyone can climb a tree.”
“So what were you trying to do?”
“Be a man. Stand up for what was right.” He wiped the back of a hand across his eyes.
“By leaving scary notes and firebombing an old woman’s house?” Sophie’s voice shook.
“Dumb. I know. But your development would’ve raped the land. I just wanted to do something. For once.”
Sophie sighed. The kid’s misery was obvious. It certainly couldn’t be easy being raised by the odd Rockefeller couple. “So why confess?”
“I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I just feel so bad.” His words rang true.
Sophie’s thoughts reeled. The kid was obviously scared. And remorseful. Finally, with a sigh, she said, “We have to tell the sheriff.”
“I know.” Sniff.
“But if you promise to channel your aggression better and work for Mrs. Shiller one day a week for the next year, I won’t press charges.” She’d been a scared kid with crappy parents at one time, too.
“Really?” Hope filled his brown depths.
“Really. But I can’t guarantee Mrs. Shiller will agree and not press charges. And I don’t know what the sheriff will do.” Shit. She really didn’t want to know what Quinn would do.
“It’s a deal, anyway.” He held out a skinny hand and they shook.
“Okay.” Sophie pulled back onto the road and circled around the fountain to the sheriff’s office. Quinn met them at the curb, probably having seen them from his window. Rain curled through his thick black hair and plastered his denim shirt and faded jeans against his body.
“You okay, Soph?” His eyes revealed nothing as Jeremy slowly exited the vehicle.
“I’m fine. Jeremy has a confession to make, and I don’t want to press charges.”
Quinn’s eyes hardened on the boy as he slammed the car door. He rapped three knuckles against the window and waited until she rolled it down a bit. “I’ll need a statement from you.”
“Nope. I have nothing to say. It’s over as far as I’m concerned.”
Quinn shook his head. “Jake might have something to say about that.”
Sophie shrugged. “It’s not up to Jake. It’s my decision and I’ve made it.”
Quinn’s lips twisted in a wry grin.
“What?”
“Just glad Jake is the brother who captured you. That’s all.”
“Funny. Say hi to Juliet for me.” With her parting shot, she rolled up the window, gave Jeremy a reassuring nod, and pulled back onto the street. Jeremy, a pitiful expression on his face, watched her drive away. She accelerated and made quick work of the road back to Jake’s. Her cell phone rang just as his home came into view.
“Where are you?” Jake’s voice barely wove through the crackle.
“I suppose you talked to your brother?” She fought the urge to sigh. Damn meddling Lodge men.
“You should press charges.”
She rolled her eyes. “No. It’s my choice.”
“Fine. Where are you, softy?”
“Pulling into the drive.”
She clicked off as the front door opened to reveal him, long and lean in the doorway. The sight of him, tall and sexy and waiting for her, tightened her chest as she jumped out of the Jeep, her charcoals safe in her hands. Jake took it from her as he pulled her inside, out of the misting rain.
“There’s a storm coming.” Warm arms enveloped her as the scent of horse, dust, and man surrounded her.
“You need a shower.” She wrinkled her nose while stepping back.
Jake kept his gaze on her as he gently placed her box by the door. “Sounds like an offer.”
“What—” was all she got out before two strong arms whisked her up and carried her toward the master bedroom. “Why are you always carrying me?”
“I like you in my arms.” Jake dropped his mouth to nibble along her jawline. Straight to the shell of her ear.
“You like being in control.” Breathiness coated her words, and she tilted her head so he had better access.
“I like you safe in my sights. And here”—he tightened his arms, his sizzling mouth now exploring her neck—“is the perfect way to do both.” He lowered her to the bathroom tile. Two rough hands lifted her shirt over her head. His eyes hot on her, he yanked his shirt off before his hands unclasped her bra. It fell into the growing heap of clothing on the floor as he unsnapped his dusty jeans. He pushed them down muscled thighs along with his shorts, his eyes warming as she kicked off her boots and shimmied out of her pants.
“Rough day, cowboy?” She nodded to a deep purple bruise across one thick bicep.
He twisted the shower knob. “My mind wasn’t on the job at hand.” Steam began filling the air.
“What was your mind on?”
“This.” One long tapered finger traced her collarbone and explored south to the peak of one pebbled nipple.
“Oh.” Heat filled her.
He stepped forward and backed her into the stone tiled alcove. “And this.” Two strong hands went to her buttocks and lifted her against the smooth tile. His mouth dropped to hers, gentle and sweet. The spray beat against his back and cascaded around to mist her.