Anywhere With You

Ben squinted at a blur of movement behind them and caught a glimpse of her. Only for a second. He waited a moment, watching to see if maybe she’d gone to get something out of her car. A minute later, a silver compact drove out the driveway.

Disappointment settled like a weight on his shoulders. He shrugged it off. Now wasn’t the time for a hookup, anyway. Especially not with the local law. He had too much crap swirling in his head. He craned his neck for a look at the Porsche. He’d parked it between the stable and a tree, where another vehicle couldn’t fit. He didn’t need his doors getting dinged.

Arriving late had been by design. He’d wanted everyone to see him driving the Porsche, prove to them he wasn’t a charity case. Yet he’d forgotten all about the damn thing until Trace had mentioned it.

Ben drew air deep into his lungs. Nothing was going the way he’d expected. And he’d prepared for plenty...anger, resentment, even nerves.

But shit.

He’d never expected to feel like he’d come home.

* * *

GRACE GRABBED KEYS out of her desk drawer and holstered her gun. She didn’t have to look at Danny and Roy to know they were smirking like a couple of jackasses. They did every time she brought out her Glock, as if they’d never seen a woman carry a gun before. Scary to think those two were actually deputies.

“So, how did you enjoy the party last night?” Roy asked, leaning back in his chair, his fingers locked behind his head, his round belly straining his uniform shirt.

She’d been waiting for him to mention the reception. Just to cause trouble. “It was great.”

“You left early.”

Grace raised her brows. “I hope your wife didn’t notice you were keeping track of me. She might get the wrong idea.”

Danny chuckled, and Roy shot him a dirty look.

“Tell me something, Grace,” Roy said, “why do you suppose that you, being a newcomer and all, got an invite to the wedding and Danny, Wade and Gus didn’t?”

Of course this was about her being the mayor’s niece. “I guess you’ll have to ask Rachel or Matt that question.” She set her blue ball cap on her head.

“Quit wearing that stupid thing. Get yourself a Stetson so you look like a real deputy,” Danny said and abruptly swung his boots off the desk.

“Oh, I should emulate you two so I can fit in?” She turned for the door, muttering under her breath, “Maybe if I lost fifty IQ points.”

Noah was standing in the open doorway, not six feet away.

That’s why Danny had snapped to attention—

Oh, God. “Hi, boss,” she said, her cheeks burning. Of course Noah had heard her. She’d apologize for the unprofessional remark later. But damned if she’d do it in front of Roy and Danny.

At least the sheriff didn’t look annoyed. In fact, he seemed to be controlling a smile. She liked Noah. An ex-Chicago police detective, he was sharp, professional and moving on to work for the marshal service.

“I thought you were off today, Noah,” Roy said, remaining relaxed in his chair, exercising his familiarity with their boss for Grace’s benefit.

“I just came by to get something.” Noah stopped and eyed Roy. “Do me a favor.”

“Name it.”

“Order another uniform shirt.”

“But, boss—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Shaking his head, Noah walked to his desk. “We’ve had this discussion twice already.”

Roy moved his hands from behind his head and glared at Grace. So now she was to blame for him blowing his diet?

“Who’s on patrol?” Noah asked.

“I am.” She paused with her hand on the doorknob. “I was just headed out. Need something?”

“Take a few traffic cones with you in case you run into any mudslides. The rain came down fairly hard around midnight.”

Grace nodded, making a mental note to jot down the information. She’d started a notebook to record all the little things the other deputies already knew from growing up here. The doorknob shook. Someone outside was trying to open the door, so she pulled her hand back.

It was Clarence. Oh, great.

“Good morning, Mayor,” she said and stepped aside.

He crossed the threshold, his sour expression changing the instant he noticed the men. “Mornin’ Sheriff Calder, deputies,” he said, nodding at them. He stopped in front of Roy. “Don’t we have money in the budget for uniforms? Get yourself a bigger size, son, before you pop a button and take out someone’s eye.”

Roy’s face turned red. He straightened, sucking in his gut.

Grace sighed. Clarence was a politician. How could he not understand diplomacy? And how on earth had he stayed in office for so long?

“What can I do for you, Mayor?” Noah pulled a folder out of his desk drawer.

“Actually, I stopped by to see Grace.” Clarence turned to look her up and down, frowning first at her jeans, then at her cap. “Where are you off to?”

“I’m on duty.”

“We should discuss a proper uniform for the department. Maybe tan slacks to match the shirt,” he said, glancing at Noah. “What do you think?”

“Waste of money. Peace officers in this county have been wearing jeans as far back as I can remember. The shirt’s enough.”

“Just because something’s always been done a certain way doesn’t make it right,” Clarence said, his tone querulous.

Noah smiled. “No, but tan slacks aren’t going to help the public identify the sheriff or deputies. Anyway, not my call. Hash it out with the new sheriff.”

Clarence grunted. “What do you think, Grace?”

At first, she was speechless. She refused to look at Roy or Danny. “Sheriff Calder is right. Whoever replaces him should help make that decision.”

Her uncle’s gaze narrowed. “I’ll walk you out. I need to have a word with you.”

Nodding, she briefly met Noah’s sympathetic eyes. He was a good sheriff, a good man. Filling his shoes wouldn’t be easy.

“You left the party early,” Clarence said once they were on the sidewalk. His face lit up at the sight of a blonde middle-aged woman walking toward them. He passed a hand over the sparse strands of auburn hair slicked across his pink scalp.

“I wasn’t feeling well.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Between him and Ben, she’d felt a bit off.

“Morning, Laura.” Clarence and the woman exchanged smiles as she passed.

“Do you know where the traffic cones are stored?”

He snapped his attention back to Grace. “How would I know? Don’t try and change the subject.”

“What subject?” She remembered the storage closet behind the office and studied her set of keys. “That I left early? So what?”

“Not that. I want to know about Ben. Hilda’s boy.”

Grace glanced up. “What about him?”

“It seemed you two had a lot to talk about.” Clarence’s small, shrewd eyes searched her face.

She hurried her pace in case she blushed. “Yup, the McAllisters and the weather. It was a fascinating discussion.”

“Don’t you sass me, young lady.”

“Mayor Leland, I’m on duty. I am working.” She turned left down the narrow alley.

“Where are we going?”

“The storage closet behind the office.”

“Why did we have to come this way? We could’ve used the back door.”

She preferred that he hadn’t followed at all. Ignoring him, she located the correct key, found the cones and carried them to the truck. Of course, Clarence stayed on her heels. She opened the driver’s door.

“You hold on a minute,” he said. “I know that boy, and what I have to say is for your own good. You should appreciate I’m looking out for you.”

Grace wanted to tell her uncle that whatever it was had to wait until she clocked out. But she couldn’t stand waiting all day. “Okay, what is it?”

“His mother, Hilda, is a good, God-fearing woman. She raised a fine daughter, and I’m sure she tried with Ben.” Clarence shook his head. “He was just one of those kids who couldn’t seem to keep his nose clean. The minute he entered his teens, he was nothing but trouble.”

“What kind of trouble? What did he do?”

Clarence seemed surprised by the question. “Now, you don’t need to be concerned with details,” he said, his condescending tone suggesting she shouldn’t worry her pretty little head. “Just take my word for it. You steer clear of him before he tarnishes your reputation.”

Grace smiled. Her uncle had no idea what he was talking about. He’d probably heard some rumors or knew Ben hadn’t seen his mom in some time, which made him plain bad to the bone.

“You know I’m telling you this for your own good, don’t you, Gracie?”

“Well, while we’re on the subject,” she said sweetly, “I’ll remind you again that singling me out in front of the other deputies is not helpful. They already resent me.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, this isn’t the city. We all know each other around here. You and I are related. So what?”

She forced a smile. “Have a nice day, Mayor,” she said and climbed into the truck.

Fortunately, he spotted a couple of his constituents and glided along the sidewalk to shake hands, letting her go without an argument. Good. The election was months away, but the more he campaigned to get reelected, the less he would bother her.

After an hour of driving around checking for mudslides, Grace pulled over and opened her thermos. She’d left a few orange cones at the base of a popular hiking trail, but that was it. Everything looked okay.

One thing Montana had over Arizona was rain. And lots of it. She’d been leaving her window open at night. The inn where she was staying was located on Main Street, and a couple times she’d heard noise coming from the bar several blocks down. But it was worth it just to hear the patter of rain on the windowsill.

She sipped her coffee, anxious for the much-needed caffeine to give her a boost. Kind of a shame, really. The peace and quiet made her pleasantly mellow. She glanced into the rearview mirror. Nothing but blacktop, blue sky and woods for miles.

What the—?

She stared at the red blur until she could make out the shape of the Porsche. The car hugged the curve of the road, then raced toward her. Was he out of his mind?

Ben had been right. She didn’t have radar, but she’d bet anything he was going well over the fifty-mile speed limit. Grace started the engine and hit the flashing lights just as the car came up on her. The vehicle whizzed past.

She hesitated, torn between anger at his recklessness and a reluctance to give him another ticket. Depending on his record, it could cost him his license. But then, maybe it should. Maybe this was the lesson he needed. Either way, this was her job.

Hastily getting the truck on the road, she cursed at the spilled coffee wetting her jeans. She pushed the accelerator all the way to the floor. The older model truck didn’t have a chance of catching up to the Porsche. So it surprised her when Ben slowed and coasted until she came up behind him.

She glimpsed his dark hair as he pulled onto the shoulder, and she felt a little sadness that her uncle might be right about Ben. Mostly, though, she was mad.

Breathing deeply, she grabbed her ticket book and pen, then climbed out of the truck. She kept her sunglasses on, unwilling to let him see her anger and disappointment. Did he think he could charm her out of another ticket?

“This seems all too familiar,” she said as the tinted window lowered. “License and—” She blinked. “Trace?”

“Mornin’, Deputy,” he said with a sheepish grin.

“I thought you were Ben.” She cleared her throat, annoyed at the surge of relief she felt. “Do you know how fast you were going?”

“Too fast.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “You’re going to ticket me. I know and I deserve it. But so you don’t think I’m a total idiot, I cut loose for only a couple miles to see what the Porsche could do.” He reached into his back pocket. “I don’t usually speed, not in my truck.” His mouth curved in a boyish grin. “Not by much anyway.”

Grace watched him slide his license out of his wallet. She sighed. “I’ll give you a verbal warning,” she said, lowering the ticket book to her side.

Trace’s face lit up, and he was quick to make his license disappear. “Thanks. I mean it. You won’t catch me speeding again.”

“Good. Because next time, no mercy. Not even at five miles over.”

His expression fell. “Five,” he repeated. “Huh.”

Hiding her smile, she headed back to the truck, wondering if she dared analyze why she was so pleased the driver hadn’t been Ben.

4

THE TENT WAS GONE, along with the tables and chairs. Ben shouldn’t have been surprised. People in the country woke early and went right to work. He’d been one of them once.

He stood near the stable waiting for Trace to bring back the Porsche. In the bright sunlight, the Sundance looked even more run-down than it had last night. The place wasn’t an eyesore, nothing like that. In fact, their paying guests might consider the buildings quaint and rustic. And for all he knew, that was the point of not keeping things pristine. But he doubted it. The McAllisters had too much pride.

A dude ranch...

Ben still couldn’t believe it. Gavin McAllister must be turning over in his grave. He’d been a cattleman to the bone, and proud of it. But he’d been a husband and father first, and willing to do anything to take care of his own. And that had once included Ben.

Blocking the sun with his hand, he squinted down the gravel driveway. Trace had been gone awhile now. What the hell...was he halfway to Kalispell? Maybe Ben should’ve warned him about Grace. The other deputies wouldn’t ticket him. To some extent, Ben understood why she had to be a hard-ass. Still, she could’ve given him a warning.

He glanced at his watch and shook his head in amazement. Trace had been gone only seven minutes. Hardly long enough to get the Porsche revved.

No mystery what had Ben edgy. He turned to the house, wondering if Hilda was standing at a window, watching him. The chaos in the kitchen had kept him from seeing her last night. Okay, fine. Nothing would have stopped him if he’d truly wanted to see her. His sister had slung the accusation after waking him with an early call. Claudia hadn’t tried his cell phone. No, she’d rung the inn and asked someone to pound on his door at 8:00 a.m. when she knew he’d still be sleeping. Probably to punish him for not staying at the Sundance.

Claudia refused to understand he couldn’t just waltz in after a fifteen-year absence. Hilda would want to know everything that had happened to him. He’d never admit he’d had it rough in LA after leaving the Sundance. A big olive-skinned kid like him who fit a nice, neat stereotype of a freeloading illegal brought a lot of unwanted attention. For months, he’d been stopped, questioned and frisked almost daily. Sometimes the shakedowns had been warranted, most times not. So no, he wasn’t overly fond of law enforcement in any form.

It had shocked him to learn Noah Calder was sheriff of Blackfoot Falls. When they’d been kids, Noah had practically lived at the Sundance, getting into his share of trouble right alongside Ben.

Maybe he should stop by the office when he got back to town. And just maybe he’d see Grace.

Giving in to the inevitable, he started toward the house. Distracted by thoughts of Grace’s pale, creamy skin, he almost didn’t see Cole walking out of the stable.

“Hey, Ben.” He pulled off his work gloves. “I didn’t know you were here. Find me before you leave. I want to show you something.”

Ben veered his way. “What’s that?”

“It can wait,” Cole said, glancing at the house.

“We’re here now.”

Cole smiled. “Okay. Come on. It won’t take long.”

As they entered the stable Ben breathed in the familiar scents of saddle soap and leather. He was glad to see the tack wall was in primo condition.

They passed five stalls before Cole stopped and motioned with his chin. “Look familiar?”

Ben stared at the long-legged colt, noticed the identifying snip of white between the nostrils. “Is Zorro the sire?”

“Yep.” Standing with his arms folded, his feet planted wide, Cole looked on like a proud papa. “This is Milo.”

“How old?”

“Four and half months. Just been weaned.”

“You gonna sell him?”

“Nope. He’s staying right here.”

“You ever change your mind, call me.”

Cole looked over at him. “So you’re going through with it. You’re buying that ranch?”

Ben had forgotten he’d mentioned it to him in LA. “As soon as I get back to California and sign the papers.”

“Good for you, bro. You should be working with horses. Dad always said he’d never seen anyone better with an Arabian than you.”

Ben’s chest tightened. He didn’t remember that, but he believed Cole. “You been doing much breeding?”

He shrugged. “Not really. Why?”

“I’ll be in the market for stock soon.” Ben hadn’t considered the possibility before now, but he liked the idea of being able to give them some business.

“You must have closer ranches and auctions,” Cole said, the interest in his eyes at odds with his nonchalant words.

“I’ll need startup stock with good lineage, a few smart, trainable horses. If you decide to breed, we’d be talking more about stud services. I may do some breeding myself later on, but for now I’m more interested in doing the training. Bottom line? Whatever we work out, I trust you. You wouldn’t believe what a rare commodity that is in Hollywood.”

Cole rubbed his jaw, squinting at the colt while he thought. “Sure. You know Trace...he’s always been more interested in horses than the cattle. He’d be all over a breeding program.”

Cole’s cell rang. He was needed in the east barn, so Ben walked out with him. They agreed to talk more before he left for LA, and then Ben headed toward the house.

He’d barely knocked once when Barbara McAllister flung the door wide. “Ben. Oh, my goodness, you’re even taller than when you left,” she said, and pulled him into a hug. “I’m glad you came.”

Ben smiled. She was so tiny that her arms couldn’t reach all the way around him. “You look good, Mrs. McAllister. How are you?”

“I’m fine.” She leaned back. “Look at you, so handsome. I saw you last night from the porch, but with all those people here, I couldn’t get to you before you disappeared.”

“I knew you all were busy, so I stayed away from the house. I figured today would be better.”

“Well, your mom is very anxious to see you. How about we go to the kitchen? I bet you still know the way. It was always your favorite room in the house.”

“Mrs. McAllister, are you implying I ate like a horse?”

“Of course not. None of you boys did.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re an adult now. Call me Barbara so I don’t feel like I’m a hundred and ten.”

“Come on now, Barbara, you know you could be Rachel’s twin.”

With a laugh, she wagged a finger at him. “You,” she said, “are too charming for your own good.”

She had to be in her midfifties, but she still looked youthful, her skin smooth and unlined except for the laugh lines around her eyes. He was about to follow her then realized something was different about the house. Sunlight shining in through a two-story window flooded the foyer and living room.

“That’s new,” he said, amazed he hadn’t noticed last night.

“It was Cole’s winter project a few years ago. Before—” She sighed. “Before things got a bit tight around here. I don’t mean only the Sundance. The whole community has suffered.”

Jesus, he hadn’t considered how the poor economy had affected small rural towns. The film business had felt the pinch also, though obviously not like the rest of the country. Made him more eager to do business with the McAllisters.

At the door shared by the dining room and the kitchen, Barbara stopped and lowered her voice. “I’ll let you go in by yourself.”

“No, you don’t have to—”

“Yes.” She gave him a gentle smile and squeezed his hand. “I do. We’re all so glad you’re here,” she said and slipped away.

Ben inhaled deeply. Feminine laughter wafted from the back of the house. It would be so easy to find a distraction. Postpone seeing Hilda for another day. He didn’t have to be back in LA until the loan was finalized. In just over a week, the Ventura ranch would be all his. Well, his and Lena’s, but she was a silent partner, a venture capitalist with one foot in the film business. She had her hands in a variety of projects and knew nothing about ranching or horses. Turning a profit was all she cared about.

It was eerily quiet on the other side of the door. Normally, he’d hear pots banging around, Hilda humming. The woman loved to hum or sing. It didn’t matter what kind of music or in what language. She was probably wringing her hands, waiting for him to come through the door.

Might as well get it over with. He pushed the door open. She sat at the oak table, her hands clasped tightly together.

“Benedicto,” she murmured, her voice catching as she got to her feet. “I can’t believe you’re really here. You’re a man now. Tall and handsome.”

Wrinkles lined her face. Her eyes looked tired. Partly because of him, he imagined. And partly because of the lies she’d been unable to keep straight over the years. All variations on a theme. Why his father never came to see them. Why they’d left the house he and Claudia had loved. Why they had no grandparents or cousins. And finally, that his father was dead. Regardless of the cause, her dark brown eyes were filled with sadness, and his chest tightened in unexpected sympathy.

“Hello, Mom.” He went to her and she opened her arms to him. A tear slipped down her cheek just before he hugged her. Some of the resentment that had weighed him down lifted as memories—good ones—from his early childhood rushed through his mind.

All was not forgiven, though. He still had questions, and if she thought him being here absolved her of the lies and deceit, she was wrong.

When she finally released him, Ben expected her to lead him to the table so the long overdue talk could begin. But after she ran a hand down his chest, she went straight to the fridge.

Ben sighed. She would fill him with a homemade meal, tell him...whatever, and barely look at him again. At least he recognized the ground rules: she wouldn’t tell the truth and he wouldn’t confront her. The relief was instantaneous. He was off the hook for now. And so was she. But he wasn’t leaving Montana without knowing exactly what happened with his father.

* * *

GRACE SENSED SOMEONE standing behind her and turned to see Roy looking over her shoulder as she finished her end-of-shift report. “Yes? Did you want something?”

“Give out any more tickets today?” Roy chuckled. “Can’t believe you cited Ben. I bet that pissed him off real good.”

“Not my problem.” She shuffled some papers and obscured Roy’s view. “He shouldn’t have been speeding.”

“That hard-ass attitude ain’t gonna win you any friends around here.”

A sarcastic remark almost slipped out. But that would be stupid. Curious, she asked, “So, you wouldn’t have given him a ticket?”

Roy walked over to the coffeemaker sitting on a metal filing cabinet. Only the two of them were in the office. Danny was out on patrol, and it was Wade’s day off. And Gus, he worked a couple days a week. She’d never heard of a part-time deputy position before.

Roy’s eyebrows drew together as he refilled his mug. He’d never impressed her as someone who thought before speaking.

“It’s not a trick question, Roy. I’m honestly just curious.”

He studied her for a moment, then dumped a ton of sugar into his coffee. “I doubt it,” he said finally.

“Does anyone ever give speeding tickets?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “Out on the highway. But here? Not too often. Usually it’s the high school kids we stop. Or tourists.”

“Thank you.” She smiled at him. “That’s good to know.”

“No problem.” Frowning, he concentrated on stirring his coffee.

She wanted to tell him not to worry. He wasn’t consorting with the enemy. She was merely another deputy trying to do her job. And contrary to popular belief, whoever was named acting sheriff wasn’t guaranteed a permanent position. The November election would settle that.