Sage Creek (15 page)

Her mom knew everything she’d gone through trying to pass Geometry. And she knew just what a rock and a hard place Hartigan had placed her in.

He hadn’t shown any sympathy for her struggle to master his favorite subject, and her father had for a long time refused to accept her nearly failing grade as evidence of anything but slacking off.

Sure, her mom had hired a tutor to try to help her get by. She’d even gone to school to talk to Hartigan about how hard Sophie was working—not that it had done any good.

Was that when this all started?
she wondered suddenly, going still as a stone as she was about to pour kibble in Tidbit’s bowl. Had her mom become attracted to Doug Hartigan all the way back when Sophie was in high school?

No, it couldn’t be. Bad enough her father had cheated—her mother wasn’t the type. Diana had been the peacemaker in the family, the one who tried to balance out the rough edges and soften the harsh standards of a demanding husband and father.

Despite all of Hoot’s flaws, including his relentless toughness, he’d loved them all—her mother, Wes, and Sophie. And her mother had loved him back. Sophie had seen that, seen the love between them.

Sophie’s brows knit in frustration as she tossed together a salad for Lissie and Tommy, then spooned a light Dijon sauce over chicken breasts before sliding them into the oven to bake alongside a pan of rosemary potatoes.

She didn’t linger long after delivering the meal. She stayed only long enough to reassure herself that Lissie was all right. Tommy told her the meds were working, and the contractions had stopped. Lissie looked wan and exhausted in the big king-sized bed, but she’d managed a tired smile when Sophie hugged her and smoothed her hair back from her face.

Still, it was dark as she headed home, Tidbit on the passenger seat beside her, only a misty half-moon swimming in the star-studded vastness of a purple sky. Night had brought shockingly cold air sweeping down from the Crazies, a biting reminder that summer was on its way out the door.

Sophie didn’t know if her mom would be back from her date yet, but if she wasn’t and hadn’t already lit a fire, Sophie intended to do that straight off, before getting to work.

Her to-do list was nearly as long as Squirrel Road and included writing up a final menu for the bakery’s opening week, checking on delivery of all her ingredients and the additional bakeware and mixing bowls she still needed, interviewing Karla Sommers, and a dozen other tasks. She was so engrossed in reviewing everything that still had to be done that she didn’t even notice anything wrong until there was a jolt that made her hands tighten on the steering wheel.

She felt one side of the Blazer sag, even as the front end almost swerved out of control.

Quickly, she managed to steer the rig to the side of the road, then grabbed the flashlight she kept in the glove compartment and hopped out, shivering in the frosty night.

Exactly as she’d expected, the right rear tire splayed against the gravel. With a sigh, she pulled out her phone to call Tommy and ask if he could come help her change it. At the same time, headlights swarmed up the road toward her.

Blinded, she waited for the oncoming truck to pass by, but instead, it pulled right over, coming to a sudden halt.

Sophie whipped the flashlight up in the silent darkness—and there was Rafe striding toward her.

“Easy. Do you really have to shine that thing in my face?” he asked as he stopped in front of her.

“Sorry.” Sophie turned the illumination toward the ground. “I was just about to call Tommy and ask him to give me a hand. I’ve got a flat.”

“Yeah, you sure do.” He frowned, bending down to get a better look at the tires. “More than one.”

“
What?
”

He circled the Blazer. “Both of your front tires are low.”

“I thought it was the back one.”

She whipped the flashlight beam toward the front tires, one after the other, and realized he was right. Both were deflated, though not flat.
Yet
.

“Give me that thing for a second.” Rafe held out his hand for the flashlight. He crouched beside the left rear tire, shone the light. Then moved to the right one and did the same.

Tidbit stood on his hind paws, watching through the side window as Rafe and Sophie huddled in the darkness.

“Two flat, two more than halfway there,” Sophie muttered. She hugged her arms around herself as a sharp gust whipped down from the mountains and chilled her clear through, despite the thick sweater she’d thrown on before leaving for Lissie’s. “That can’t be a coincidence.”

“Someone let the air out. There was a narrow puncture on each tire. The type that could’ve come from the tip of a knife blade.” Rafe handed her back the flashlight. “Do you know anyone who’d want to do that?”

Sophie could only blink at him for a moment as a different kind of chill blew through her. “No. I don’t have any enemies in Lonesome Way—or back in San Francisco, if that’s what you mean. My ex is a jerk, but he’s not the type to come down here and let the air out of my tires, or hire anyone to do it. Besides, I’m the injured party; if anyone was letting the air out of someone’s tires, that would be
me
. This doesn’t make sense.”

Rafe said nothing.

“It could have been a kid, pulling a prank. Some teenager in town, maybe while we were inside the hospital. Or when I was picking Tidbit up from Gran’s apartment.”

His eyes narrowed in the darkness. “Could be. But I think you should call Sheriff Hodge. This needs to be reported.”

“What’s the point?” Sophie drew a breath. “There’s no way he’ll be able to figure out who did it. Besides, I think it must have been random. Just some bored kid wanting to make mischief.”

But even to herself, her words lacked conviction. She had a strange feeling about this, and she couldn’t explain it.

Her stomach plummeted as she realized she wouldn’t find a tow truck or gas station open at this hour. And she had only one spare tire. Which meant she’d have to leave the Blazer here tonight, get it towed in the morning.

Rafe studied her in the darkness. “You all right?”

“Fine. A little freaked out, that’s all.” She forced her shoulders to relax. “Where’s Ivy?” She was suddenly aware that the two of them were all alone out here in the vast charcoal shadows of the mountains and the endless night sky.

“Shannon’s parents invited her to go with them to the movies over in Livingston. After everything that happened today, I thought it would be good for her to go out and have some fun.”

“And you were on your way to visit Lissie and Tommy,” Sophie guessed. “I’m sorry. It was nice of you to stop. If you want to see them—”

“It can wait until tomorrow. You’re shivering.”

He reached out and snagged her hand in his large one.

A different kind of shiver stole through her. Electricity thrummed beneath her skin as his strong fingers closed around her hand.

For a moment she clung to him, to his big calloused palm, the broad knuckles, the warmth and strength of his grip. A thread of fire flowed through her fingers, up her wrist, straight to her heart, and she was stunned by the burn. It nearly made her jump. At least it knocked some sense back into her, and she quickly drew a breath and slipped her hand away.

“Any chance I can hitch a ride home with you?” She hoped the question sounded casual and would distract him from noticing how flustered she’d been at his touch.

“I’m not about to leave my sister’s best friend standing out here by the side of the road.”

He said it with a smile. Almost the exact words he’d spoken that long-ago day when she was fifteen. Sophie felt color flooding her cheeks and was grateful for the darkness.

“I owe you,” she said lightly and turned away.

Keep it cool,
Rafe told himself as she hurried toward the passenger side of her car. He beat her there and opened the door for her to lift her dog from the seat. As Rafe slammed the door shut, he reminded himself that he needed to be careful. Sure, Sophie was beautiful. And warm. And sexy as hell.

But that was no excuse for taking her hand, wanting to look into those stunning green eyes. Or trying to picture her in his bed.

The thought popped, unbidden, into his mind.

He didn’t want to go there. Didn’t want to explore the buried loneliness he’d learned to ignore. The longing sometimes in the middle of the night to hold a woman he loved in his arms.

Despite all the women he’d known and taken to his bed—or to his hayloft, the backseat of his car, or Larkspur Point, Lonesome Way’s favorite make-out spot—he’d never loved any of them.

Not even Lynelle.

Oh, he’d thought he’d loved her. He’d loved the way she looked and the way she smelled and the way she flirted with him when he met her in that bar in Bozeman the first time. He’d loved the carefree abandon she exhibited in everything she did—but he hadn’t loved her.

He’d married her impulsively and she’d gotten pregnant within the first few weeks. Knowing he had a child on the way had changed Rafe in a profound way he’d never seen coming.

But Lynelle had never changed. Even after Ivy was born, she’d never even tried to tame the carefree spirit or wanderlust or just plain irresponsibility—whatever you wanted to call it—that drove her, seven years later, to tear out of their lives in a cloud of highway dust.

It struck him suddenly that from what Sophie had said back there, her ex had been no prize either.

Just drive,
he thought.
Get her out of your head. Sophie McPhee, her ex, they’re none of your business.

The pale half-moon slipped behind a cloud as he stared straight ahead and drove toward the Good Luck ranch.

Sophie didn’t want to think about what she’d felt when Rafe had reached for her hand. Or why he’d taken it. She pushed away the insane feelings that had tumbled through her out in the darkness with him back on that lonely road.

It had almost felt like they were the only two people in Montana at that moment, as if the moon were hanging in the sky for them, as if the night were hiding them from everything and everyone. As if they could have done whatever they wanted out there in the cold, windswept darkness and no one would know, there’d be no questions or answers, no words or consequences....

“Your ex.” Rafe couldn’t help it. He had to know. “Sounds like a real jerk. What’d he do to you? Or don’t you want to talk about it?” he added, sensing her sudden tension beside him.

“What didn’t he do?” Sophie stared straight ahead as Tidbit shifted on her lap and licked her hand. “He lied. Cheated on me with another woman. Made promises he didn’t mean to keep. Sorry, it sounds like a bad country western song.”

“What kinds of promises?”

She hesitated so long he thought she wasn’t going to answer. Then she spoke, her voice quiet.

“I wanted a family. Ned claimed he did too. But he was just stringing me along while he was looking for a new job and sleeping with the woman who eventually hired him. Now”—she swallowed and forced herself to say the words—“he’s with her. She’s pregnant. His baby.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed in the darkness.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He found himself wishing he could get his hands on Sophie’s ex-husband for maybe five minutes. It wouldn’t take any more than that to rearrange his face.

“The funny thing is,” she said slowly. “I’m not. Sorry, I mean. Not anymore. I wasted too many days waiting for him, believing in him. At least now my life isn’t on hold anymore.”

Rafe knew what it was like to have your life on hold. In a lot of ways, his had been on hold since the day Lynelle left.

He hadn’t allowed himself any involvements, any real relationships, other than his family. Keeping Ivy safe and happy and secure, running the ranch, and taking care of his family and his horses were his only priorities and focuses.

And he didn’t regret it one bit. It was the way things were—and his choice that they be that way. But sometimes, at family gatherings, he looked at Lissie and Tommy, at his cousin Deck and his wife Leigh, saw the way they gazed at each other, and knew he was missing out on something. Something special. Something that with Lynelle he’d never known.

“It’s hell when someone close to you lets you down,” he said, glancing quickly at her profile.

Rafe turned onto Daisy Lane, drove toward the sprawling ranch house. The truck rolled past the spot where he’d let her off when she was fifteen, where she’d planted that kiss on him. And then his headlights caught a strange rig parked yards from the porch.

Who’s here?
Sophie wondered, her heart jumping. She leaned forward on the seat for a better look.
Could her mother and Doug Hartigan be back from dinner already?

But as a man stepped out of the rig, she realized it wasn’t Hartigan. Rafe’s headlights illuminated a younger man, stocky, bull-necked, someone in his early thirties.

Even after all these years, Sophie recognized the playground bully.

“Oh, no,” she murmured. “Crap.”

“Hendricks?” Rafe frowned. “You expecting him?”

“No. God, no.” She opened the door of the truck and stepped down, reaching for Tidbit. Rafe was out of the truck before she’d barely set the dog on the ground.

Roger started forward, smiling at Sophie—but his smile faded when he saw Rafe coming up to stand beside her.

“Sophie? I’m . . . uh, sorry. I thought . . .”

“What are you doing here, Roger?” Sophie asked, though she was fairly certain she knew.