She Can Tell (15 page)

“Likewise. But we did a damn fine job of it anyway.” She closed her fingers around the envelope and waited to feel some relief. This money was going to keep her out of debt and ensure Sarah didn’t lose her kids. But the pressure didn’t abate. It swelled, expanding from her throat into her chest until she could barely breathe. She had to get away. From the future she was handing over. From Blake and the feelings he still had for her. From the past she couldn’t leave behind no matter how hard she tried. Rachel spun on one heel and headed toward the barn. He caught up with her in a few long strides.

“Rachel. Stop. Please.” He tapped her left shoulder. Pain sang through her arm. She winced, welcoming the ability of the white-hot sting to override her emotions. She spun around to face him.

Blake frowned. “That shouldn’t have hurt. What have you been doing to yourself?” Worry replaced anger in his tone. Shit. She hated it when she was a bitch and people were nice to her anyway.

“Leave me alone, Blake.” Rachel pivoted and continued to walk away.

“Goddamn it, Rachel.” Blake jogged after her. “I told you this would be too much work for you.”

“I didn’t ask you for your opinion,” she said without turning around.

“Did you at least hire some help to do the heavy stuff?” He lowered his voice. “I’m worried about you.”

If she looked at his face and saw the emotion that she knew would still be there, even after everything that had passed between them, the pressure cooker inside her was going to blow. Rachel stared at the mud on her boots for a few seconds while Blake’s gaze seared her face.

“Lady will be at my place when you come to your senses.” He sounded disgusted. “And when you pick her up, you could visit Fleet. He’s missed you.”

She lifted her chin and watched him stride back to the van and climb into the back to check on the horse before securing the ramp and door.

Rachel turned back to the barn. She’d give Lady up, but watching her horse’s departure was too much. She stepped into the cool shade of the barn.

“Did you really have to do that?”

She stiffened. Mike. He was still here? Fan-frigging-tastic. She jerked her chin up and sniffed. “Sarah needs a lawyer yesterday. Troy can’t get custody of those kids.”

Troy shouldn’t be allowed to keep pets or barnyard animals, let alone children. Why did loving people so frequently require ripping one’s soul completely open?

Her gaze shifted to the empty stall. She walked inside and stood in the center. Her heart felt empty, as if its center had been carved out and tossed aside like a pumpkin.

The heat from his body wafted across the humid fall air, the smell of his aftershave cutting through the hay dust, the tug of her hollowed-out heart toward something that could mend it.

His hands were on her waist. Gently, carefully avoiding her sore shoulder, he eased her closer. Her back hit the hard muscles of his abdomen and chest. His arms folded
around her. Her body went stiff for a few seconds, automatically protesting the confinement. Warmth seeped through her T-shirt into her skin. She turned and pressed her face into his chest. A shudder passed through her, then a single sob, muffled by his shirt. She breathed him—and an unsettling peace—in.

His chin dropped onto the top of her head. His palms flexed on her back muscles, stroking and soothing. He pulled her closer. This time she yielded immediately and leaned against him, letting him support some of her weight. Something eased deep in her chest. The power in the sensation was unfamiliar, addictive—and disturbing. She could stay right there for a long time.

Panic sluiced over her like a cold hose. She froze and pushed off his abs with one hand.

“I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

Mike let her go. His empty arms dropped to his sides. “OK.”

She swiped a hand across her face, as if wiping away the evidence of whatever had just transpired. In three steps, she left the stall and what had passed between them behind. “Blake’ll tell you. I’m not capable of…” She waved a hand back and forth between them. “This.”

For a few seconds, he stood dumbstruck. He’d expected the punch of lust when she was in his arms, but the tenderness she evoked from him was shocking. Selling that horse was breaking her heart, and he felt every fissure as if it were happening to him.

Mike stepped into the aisle. His gaze fell to the envelope in her clenched fist. She’d crushed it. Rachel blinked
at the crumpled paper. A muscle in her jaw jumped as she smoothed it out with her fingers and opened it.

Mike caught a glimpse of the check. Webb had paid her thirty thousand dollars for that horse. On top of the check was a business card for Rising Star Farms. A name and number were handwritten across the bottom. He put aside the uncomfortable stuff churning in his gut. Her personal and financial situations weren’t his concern. Nor was her emotional state. His job was to find her stalker and protect her. That’s it. If she could ignore the connection between them, so could he. Really. “What’s the story with Webb?”

“Blake used to be my boss and my friend.” Her voice was quiet and lacked its usual hard edge.

“He seemed like more than a friend.” Which still bugged him.

She stared at her boots. “We were together for a while.”

The way she said “together” irritated him even more. “What happened between you?”

“He wanted more than I could give.” Rachel shifted her weight and focused on the wall over his shoulder. Clearly, she hadn’t told him the whole story. Was her ex angry or desperate enough to try to make Rachel’s farm fail, thinking she’d have nowhere else to go but back to him? How badly did Webb want her back?

“What did you do?” An angry voice drew their attention to the doorway. Sarah walked into the barn. She glanced over her shoulder at the retreating horse van. Her face locked in horror. “You didn’t sell that horse, did you?”

Rachel’s gaze jerked away from her sister, an obvious admission that she had. “Buying and selling horses is part of the business.”

Sarah blanched. “Oh my God!” Her voice rose, full of anger and insult. “You did. Why didn’t you talk to me first?”

“I didn’t want you to feel pressured to find the money elsewhere.” Rachel reached into her back pocket and pulled out the business card. “Here’s the lawyer Blake recommended. Call him.”

“Damn it, Rachel. I know I’m in a bind, but you can’t just ruin your life to fix everything in mine. I won’t let you,” Sarah protested. But she snatched the card from Rachel’s hand before stomping out of the barn.

Rachel stood completely still for a full minute, then turned and faced Mike. “Did you need anything else? I have to go to the bank.”

He shook his head, and she retreated to the house.

Mike drove back to the station and locked himself in his office to deal with paperwork, but as he reviewed reports and signed forms, his mind was fixated on Rachel. She claimed to be incapable of loving anyone. Her relationship with her sister and nieces said otherwise, as did her willingness to give everything she had for her family. She was quick tempered but held her deeper emotions in check. Except for that one moment, when she’d let him in. That brief surrender, those few seconds when she’d allowed him to comfort her, had lodged under his skin.

She’d rejected the bond between them, but it had been there. He’d felt it, but he didn’t blame her for running. It terrified him too.

As usual, Rachel woke Tuesday morning long before the alarm went off. Without turning on the light, she stepped into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, then moved to the window. She tugged one broken slat of the mini blind down with her forefinger.

Yep. In the middle of the predawn autumn fog, Mike’s SUV sat in her driveway.

Confusion clogged Rachel’s throat. She backed away from the window and sat on the edge of the bed.

Dammit, she wanted coffee and a Pop-Tart. But if she went downstairs, Bandit would wake. He’d want his breakfast, and then he’d need to go outside. Once she opened the door, she’d have to face Mike and what had happened between them the day before.

When she’d blubbered all over him. She’d lowered her guard. She’d been tempted to drop her walls entirely and let the peace of that moment in his arms take over.

Unfortunately, there was only so much she could stuff under her emotional rug. Warmth flooded her belly at the
memory of the cop’s arms wrapped around her. As hard as his body had been, his embrace was gentle, and the sincerity behind the gesture had touched her more profoundly than the physical contact. For that minute, she hadn’t been alone. He’d willingly shared her pain and offered to help her shoulder the burden. So, of course, she’d pushed him away. But how could she have opened herself up like that? Even for a second? Damn, it had felt good, though. Too good. This must be what crack cocaine felt like. One hug and she was an addict.

Instead of feeding her caffeine and sugar addiction, she went into the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face, and changed the Band-Aid on her cheek. Other than the tiny row of stitches and a faint yellowing bruise, her face looked normal. On the inside, though, everything churning inside her was alien, like her body was suddenly fluent in a foreign language that her brain hadn’t learned yet.

When she emerged, her bedroom had lightened with the gray of early dawn. She crossed back to the window and watched until the dark SUV started up and drove away. Grabbing a pair of socks, she tiptoed down the stairs. The jingle of dog tags alerted her to Bandit’s entrance. The dog stopped for a pat on the head before crossing to the door. He lifted a paw and scratched at the molding. Once his leash was clipped to his collar, she opened the door. They stepped out onto the stoop into the chilly morning.

Bandit scanned the driveway. His tail abruptly stopped wagging as he looked up at her.

“I’m sorry. He’s gone. We shouldn’t get too accustomed to having him around.”

The dog walked into the grass and lifted a stubby leg over a tall weed. On his way back into the kitchen, he shot her an accusing look from sad spaniel eyes.

“It’ll be better for us in the long run. I know it doesn’t feel that way, but you have to trust me on this one.” Rachel added a scoop of kibble to his bowl and all was forgiven.

But the dog was right. No doubt about it. She was a coward.

From the weedy shore of Lost Lake, Mike stood with the hydrographic survey team and watched two divers emerge from the murky water. The late morning sun glowed on the still water. Ethan headed toward him, while the fireman who’d accompanied him into the lake moved toward his own crew. Behind Mike, a few dozen sign-toting protestors shouted, “Save Lost Lake!”

Ethan dropped his underwater flashlight on the tall grass and shed his tank.

Mike ignored the crowd. “Well?”

Water dripped from Ethan’s back. “Can’t see a thing down there. All I can tell is that it’s an SUV of some kind.”

“How long has it been underwater?”

“Long time.” Ethan peeled the shorty wet suit down to his waist. “Lot of accumulated sediment. Vegetation’s thick all around it.”

“Anything inside?” Mike caught his eye.

“Don’t think so.” Ethan shook his head. “But visibility is for shit, so I could be wrong.”