It Had to Be Love (An It Had to Be Novel) (7 page)

When he arrived at his father’s house, he walked to the rear. Billy Grant had his Bobcat tractor fired up and the bucket ready to take its first bite into Ryan’s stepmother’s garden.

His father, Mitch, and stepmother, Sue Ann, stood nearby on the patio. His dad held a seething Sue Ann back from tearing Billy’s eyes out with her lethal fingernails. Sue Ann looked like a younger, pissed-off version of Dolly Parton.

His dad growled, “Dammit, Ryan. Throw his ass in jail and let him be the example for the rest of the town. This is never going to end if you keep letting people off the hook!”

Ryan walked over to the Bobcat, reached for the key, and turned it off. Billy had played football too, and was a good friend. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“That they’d be gone a lot longer.” Billy grinned. “Mrs. Beechum said they went to
Denver and weren’t expected back until later tonight. They came home early.”

Ryan dragged a hand down his face and dug deep for patience. “What would make you look for the box here?”

“This would be the most logical place to look. This has always been the mayor’s house, even before the streets were paved, and here is where the garden with all its straight rows has always been. Why not bury it here where the dirt is softer?”

“The note said the recipe and map were buried at the base of something that provided shade and shelter. How would a garden do that?”

Billy frowned. “Oh yeah. I forgot that part.” Shrugging, he started up his Bobcat and put it in gear. “See you around.”

His dad called out, “I’m pressing charges! Don’t let him go!”

“I’ll handle my father.” Ryan tilted his head, releasing Billy. “Get your butt off his property. See you Friday night for poker?”

“Yup.”

Ryan waited until Billy rolled the Bobcat onto Main Street before he walked back to his father and Sue Ann, who both stood with their arms crossed, staring daggers at him.

“No harm, no foul.”

Sue Ann spat out, “You’re lucky he didn’t dig up my carrots or you’d have been sorry, Ryan!” She turned on her spiked high heels and slammed the back door behind her.

His dad’s eyes narrowed. “What’s gotten into you lately, Ryan? Why are you refusing to put a stop to this nonsense?”

“Because it
is
nonsense. And so far, no one has suffered any damages.” Might be as good a time as any to tell his father about his plans. “But since you disagree, go ahead and look for a new sheriff. Especially since I’ve applied for jobs in Denver.”

His father’s face turned three shades of red. “That’s not happening. We’ve had an Anderson as the sheriff since this town was founded by my great-grandfather. You’re staying, and I don’t want to hear another word about it!” His dad crossed his arms across his big barrel chest.

“If I get the right job offer, I’m leaving. You’re always on me to settle down and have some kids to carry on the Anderson name. That’s not happening here. You should be happy I’m moving.”

Before his dad could spit out a rebuttal, Ryan turned and walked away.

His father called out, “This is about Sarah, isn’t it? You’re leaving because of her, aren’t you? If you want her so badly, then be a man and go steal her away from Ed!”

Be a man?

By breaking up Sarah’s marriage, and then what? Force her to love him? He refused to let his dad push his buttons, so he kept right on walking.

His father had been telling him to act like a man since he was in middle school. To stand up for himself, fight the bullies at school, and use his size to take what he wanted in life. But he wasn’t wired that way. He liked to use his brains not his brawn to get what he wanted, unlike his grizzly-bear-sized father. He’d never been able to please the man.

Walking toward his office, Ryan almost considered looking for the damn buried box himself just to make it all stop.

In the Town Square his nephews were playing baseball with his soon-to-be new nephew, Eric. The ten-year-olds, Eric and Caleb, were playing keep-away from the youngest. Ryan would’ve said something, but Ty grinned widely even as he got burned. Ty was probably just happy to be included with the older boys.

Seeing them laughing and having fun lifted his spirits.

If it took dating a bunch of strangers until he found the right one to share his life with and have a few fun kids like them, he’d do it. He wanted what Meg was soon getting. A real family, not the kind they had. As a kid, he’d loved spending time at the houses of friends who had parents who clearly cared for them. Not like his dysfunctional family. They had a dead mother full of resurfacing secrets and a gruff father who didn’t seem to love anyone but Sue Ann.

A stray baseball rolled in front of Ryan’s boots. He picked it up and sent it sailing.

Caleb called out, “We need a fourth, Uncle Ryan. You’re on my team!”

Ty said, “No way! I get Uncle Ryan!”

He had a ton of paperwork to do but it wasn’t going anywhere and it was after five. He’d just go in a little early in the morning. “I’ll hit some pop-ups. Let’s see who can be the first to twenty.”

The boys handed him a bat before they scrambled across the park to catch fly balls.

Eric called out, “Hit one this way, Sheriff!”

“You got it!” Ryan tossed the ball up, double-fisted the bat, and sent the ball flying.

After a half hour of intense competition, and with each jarring smack of the bat resonating to his sore face, Ryan wanted to stop. But the boys were having so much fun he didn’t have the heart to quit. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a long black limo pulling up and stopping at the curb.

He called time-out.

The jogging action hero who had inadvertently caused his broken nose had bought out the entire hotel for the week, and they weren’t expecting any new celebrities. Might be a paparazzi trick.

When the boys moaned, he declared a tie and sent them home for dinner. Then he strode toward the limo.

A tinted window slid down. A slightly familiar-looking woman probably in her late fifties stuck her head out. “Hello, officer. Can you help us, please?” A man studying a sheaf of papers in his hands sat next to her.

“Happy to.”

“We’re here to see our daughter. She’s the new dentist in town. Can you tell us where her office is?”

Tara’s mother? That’s why she looked familiar. He lifted a hand in the direction of Tara’s office. “It’s right there.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t happen to be the sheriff, would you? The one Tara is dating?”

She’d told her parents they were dating and yet seemed annoyed when the whole town thought so? The Tara mystery just got a whole lot more interesting. Maybe he’d play along and see what was what.

He plastered on a big smile and stuck out his hand. “Yes, ma’am. Ryan Anderson. Nice to meet you.”

Tara locked up for the day, worried that for the first time Zeke might not be able to fix the part that had gone bad in chair number two. She was closed on Fridays, so Zeke had the weekend to work on it. But she had a packed schedule Monday morning and needed both chairs. He’d assured her he’d fixed that same part many times before and he’d have it back after the weekend and installed on Monday before ten o’clock.

It’d been the busiest day she’d had since moving to Anderson Butte, and she loved it.

She turned to head for home and spotted a familiar limo. And Ryan talking to her parents.

Crap! She’d been so busy, she’d forgotten to call her mother. Had they called and found out her number had been disconnected, then panicked?

She crossed the street just as Ryan smiled and stuck his hand out for a shake.

Her awesome day had just become her worst nightmare.

When she slipped beside Ryan, he said, “Hey, babe. Look who’s here.”

Babe? What was that about?

“Hello, Mother. This is a surprise.” She leaned down and peered inside. “Both of you? This is a really big . . . surprise.”

Her mom beamed a bright smile. “Yes, and your father and I happened to run into your new beau here.”

Crap. Crap. Crap!

When she glanced at Ryan, he stared into her eyes, waiting for her to make the next move.

Dammit. Would her parents remember to call her Tara?

Was her cover about to be blown?

T
amping back her panic, Tara said to her mother, “Ryan’s not really, I mean there’s a little more to the story . . .” Her mind scrambled for what to say with Ryan standing right there grinning at her. “So what are you guys doing here?” she asked as she tucked a strand of fallen hair behind her ear.

“Just thought we’d—” Her mother’s eyes widened. “What happened to your hand, sweetheart?”

Could things get any more embarrassing? “I hit . . .” She threw her thumb Ryan’s direction. “Him. But—”

Before she could explain, her father hopped out of the car and marched toward them. He took her hand and examined the damage.

Her father’s eyes narrowed before he said to Ryan, “What made her hit you?”

She laid her hand on her father’s arm. “It’s not what you think.” She forced a smile. “Ryan surprised me and I overreacted. You can understand how that could happen, right?” She held her father’s gaze until understanding seemed to replace his anger.

Her dad said to Ryan, “Young women have to be extra careful these days. Guess your face paid the price.”

Ryan nodded. “It’s my fault. I startled her.”

When her mother slid out of the car and joined them, her dad stuck his hand out toward Ryan. “We should start over. Nice to meet you, Ryan. This is Tara’s mother, Eva, and I’m Joe Mc—”

Tara elbowed her father in the ribs to cut him off before he said their last name. She didn’t want to give Ryan any more ammunition to snoop.

Quickly recovering, her dad said, “Great little town you’ve got here. I can see why Tara chose it.”

Her father winked at her, obviously proud he’d remembered to call her Tara.

Probably wouldn’t last long. She needed to get her parents tucked away somewhere out of the nosy little town’s clutches. “So, if you’ll excuse us, Ryan, I’ll take my parents over to the hotel and get them settled.”

Ryan asked, “How long do you folks plan to stay?”

Tara held her breath, waiting for the answer.

Please say just one night.

Her mother said, “We have a charity event tomorrow evening in Denver, so it’ll be a quick in and out.”

Thank God!

As her parents climbed back into their car, Ryan leaned his mouth near her ear. His warm breath sent a tingly zip up her spine. “The whole hotel is booked through next weekend. By the jogger you were just going to . . .
look
at
yesterday.”

The erotic jolt he’d just sent rushing through her quickly fizzled. Ignoring her misplaced, confusing lust for Ryan, and her embarrassment that she’d told him that, she searched her mind for a solution.

She only had two bedrooms and one was an office. Her parents could take her bed and she could sleep on the couch. That’d work. But what about the rest? “So, does that mean the hotel’s dining room is closed to the public too?” The hotel had a five-star chef, like her parents were used to at home.

Ryan nodded. “The diner’s the only option.”

“No offense to Gloria, but my parents aren’t . . . diner people.” She held up a finger toward her parents to signal she’d be right there. “And I’m sorry about the boyfriend thing. I’ll explain all that later. After I figure out what to feed them for dinner.”

“Grilling something is easy enough.”

“I . . . don’t know how to grill. Or cook.”

“How is that even possible?” Ryan blinked at her in confusion. “What do you eat?”

“A lot of salads. And sandwiches. Learning to cook real food is next on my to-do list.”

“To-do list?”

“I never learned how to do certain things because I grew up with . . .” She swung her hand out toward the limo. “That. And when I was married, I didn’t have to cook because my parents gave us a chef as a wedding gift.”

Ryan’s right brow spiked.

Dammit. Why had she mentioned Spencer?

Because she had been totally thrown off her game by her parents’ surprise visit, that’s why. And because something about Ryan seemed to always tempt her to blurt out the truth.

But what was she going to do with her parents for dinner?

A vision of Ryan’s kitchen with its professional equipment suddenly filled her mind. “Do you know how to cook?” Desperate times, desperate measures had never been a truer saying.

Ryan crossed his arms. “Yup.”

She waited a beat, hoping he’d catch up. Instead he just stood there with a little smirk on his face. Clearly he was enjoying this and was going to make her beg. “Would you consider cooking for us tonight? I’d owe you a really big favor. Perhaps even my left kidney.”

“What kind of favor?” His lips tilted into a slow, gorgeous smile.

“Anything—except for that getting-me-naked gleam in your eyes.”

He chuckled. “I’ll have to settle for something else then, I guess. But feel free to change your mind. Seven o’clock. Any foods to avoid?”

Thoughts of getting naked with Ryan sent that hot jolt throughout her body again. She hoped her eyes weren’t gleaming too. She needed to focus on the food.

“Nope. They like most everything.” Asking him to be sure to use only the best ingredients like her parents were used to would make her sound like a jerk, so she’d just take her chances. “And please put everything on my tab at the store.” And wouldn’t that start a whole new round of rumors?

She started to walk away when he called out, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

When she spun around, he was right in front of her.

“You should probably kiss your boyfriend goodbye—for your parents’ sake.”

She hadn’t been kissed by anyone since Spencer, and her spine automatically stiffened. But it was just a kiss. She’d have to have her first one again sometime. Why not now? She’d look at it as moving forward, marking off another box on her recovery checklist. Who better than a safe man like the sexy sheriff to do it with? He didn’t date local girls, so he wouldn’t want anything more from her.

“Okay.” Steeling herself, Tara closed her eyes.

I can do this.

His big, rough hand slowly skimmed her cheek before he ran his fingers into her hair, pulling her closer. As his scent, wood-spicy and all male, filled her senses, her hands automatically went to his hard chest in defense. When familiar panic started to rise from what Spencer had done to her, she forced it back, refusing to give in to the urge to shove him away.

He laid a soft kiss on her forehead. “How about a rain check for when you’re ready?”

She blinked open her eyes. “No . . . I . . . want . . . you . . .” She didn’t know what the hell she wanted from him.

He whispered, “Then why are you about to rip the pockets off my shirt, Tara?”

“Oh. Sorry.” She loosened her grip, but left her hands on his chest. The fast thump of his heart and the fierce desire in his eyes belied his kind action. “I guess I need to add remembering how to kiss properly to my to-do list too.” God, how pathetic could she be?

As badly as he’d wanted a real kiss, he wanted her trust even more. Ryan searched her gaze, looking for answers that weren’t there. He’d like to beat the crap out of whoever had hurt her so badly she feared a simple kiss. “What hap—”

“What have we here?” His brother’s voice ended their staring match as Ben joined them. “So, the rumors are true about you two, huh? Moving in on my territory, Ry?”

Could his brother’s timing be any worse?

Tara whirled on Ben. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m no one’s territory!”

So, Tara had a temper. Interesting.

Ben lifted both hands in surrender. “I was just doing my big-brotherly duty and giving Ryan a hard time. I didn’t mean to offend you. Of course you’re not any man’s territory. I apologize.”

It took all Ryan had not to roll his eyes. What a schmoozer. Ben belonged in politics.

Tara frowned as she looked back and forth between them, as if debating whether his brother was telling the truth.

After he sent her a slight nod, she said to Ben, “Fine. Apology accepted.”

She turned her full attention on Ryan next. He braced for the fury he probably deserved for kissing her in Town Square, even if it was only on the forehead.

Instead, her face softened and her voice turned sexy quiet. “We’ll be there at seven. And I’ll bring the wine my parents like. Thanks again.” She sent him a weak smile. “For everything.”

As Tara approached the limo, an older, uniformed chauffeur hopped out and opened the door. She slid into the car beside her mother and they drove off toward her house.

After they were gone, Ben asked, “What the hell was that?”

“That was you being an asshat.” He started across the grass, toward the store.

“Me?” Ben caught up. “I don’t go around kissing the women you’ve asked out—oh, wait. That’d be impossible because you never ask anyone around here out.”

“Whatever.” That was why he never talked about his dating life with anyone. Especially his brother and sisters. Too damned messy.

Ben laughed as they both hopped up on the wooden sidewalk in front of the general store. Ryan reached out and yanked open the glass door as Ben asked, “What’s going on with you, Ry? Grandma’s right. Lately you’ve had the biggest stick up your—”

Ryan let the door slap closed in his brother’s face, then grabbed a cart and started throwing ingredients into the basket.

Ben caught up again with his own basket, but was thankfully silent as they made their way up and down the aisles, filling their shopping carts.

After they checked out, they walked side by side toward their respective homes, still not speaking.

Ben not jabbering on about something was out of character.

Ryan couldn’t stand the silence any longer, and that was out of character for him. “I know you asked her out first. Didn’t mean to cross the line. It just . . . happened.” And he felt rotten about it. “I’ll back off.” But he didn’t want to back off, dammit.

He wanted Tara.

But family came first. Always.

Ben shrugged. “I knew I’d struck out with Tara after seeing the way she was all about you in my office yesterday. The woman clearly has bad taste.”

Ryan’s lips tilted before he could stop them. “Maybe you’re getting old or something?”

“Now who’s the asshat?” Ben shifted his bags and stopped walking. “My advanced age has given me seven more years of dating experience, and I can see Tara’s into you. I was looking for you earlier to tell you to go for it with her. And to remind you to tear up that ridiculous mental list of requirements for the perfect woman. She doesn’t exist!” He turned to go, then called out, “Try to have actual conversations sometimes, if you want to keep her around longer than the others. See you, lughead.”

“Later.” Ryan walked down his driveway, relieved things with Ben were back to normal again.

He’d take his brother’s advice and work on talking more—while he tried to extract intel on Tara from her parents.

After Tara got her parents—and their six pieces of luggage for just one night—settled in her bedroom, she arranged for accommodations for their driver, Jimmy, at the hotel fifteen miles away in the next town south, and then sent him on his way. The hotel was part of a popular chain, perfectly fine for anyone other than her mother, or she would have sent her parents there too.