Rory had opened her mouth to protest the Provençal look given she’d essentially been forced into retirement in France. But seeing Deb’s eyes light up with enthusiasm when showing her the design plans, how could she say no?
According to Deb, the combination of distressed woodwork, mixed patterns for the pillows and curtains, and touches of corn yellow and pops of jubilant orange were perfect for the space. Her favorite piece had been a rustic-looking, powder-blue sideboard, a piece of furniture that seemingly had no purpose to Rory aside from another place to hide a gun.
She observed it in the foyer, unable to catch her eyes in the mirror hanging above the sideboard from the angle at which she stood. And what would she see if she had stolen a look at her reflection? A glimpse of fear in her eyes—the same look she witnessed anytime she eyed the mirror after a shower. The fear of the unknown. A fear of failing at this new life.
Rory shook her head and pivoted to view the coffee table in front of the couch. Her brother had handmade it, but he promised it only looked like water buffalo horn.
“You should have stuck with training after college like you had planned instead of running off with Andrew.” And Jesse hadn’t wasted a second resuming the conversation once he returned.
“Life is what we make it.” For some inexplicable reason, she was feeling a bit mellow. Also, still hungry. She set a hand to her stomach. “I have had a hell of a life, but”—she began with a slump of her shoulders she wished she’d been able to hide—“I’m ready to start the next chapter.”
“But why here? Why not in Bama?”
Because I don’t know if I’m safe to be around yet.
“Ten years, you’ve been chasing adventures. I’m just having a hard time believing you’ll actually stay this time. We’ve all heard it before. Plus, if you were really going to stay, wouldn’t you have bought this place instead of renting it?”
Shit. He had her there. This was her third attempt at settling down in the last several years. Every other time, she’d taken off into the sunset on a yacht, or boarded a jet and flown away. This time will be different. What choice do I have? She just hated turning her back on work that still needed to be done.
She needed to keep her feet planted to the ground like a hundred-year-old oak, though. She’d like to think she’d be able to do it. Only time would tell.
“I have no choice this time.” She regretted the words the moment her brother’s gaze intensified. How the heck did she allow that thought to slip past the carefully crafted defenses she’d spent years creating?
“What’s going on? Something happen?”
The sound of a car door shutting outside drew her to the front of the house to see who was outside on her property. Her closest neighbor was five acres away, and he was the one who’d shown up with baked goods that her brother had all but accused her of gorging on before her toast.
“Hey, wait.” Jesse caught up with her, and she turned to face him before she could glimpse who was heading toward her door. “Tell me what you meant.”
She raked a hand through her blonde hair, wishing she could take back those words because her brother wouldn’t back down now. “Things got dicey on my last job. I understand now it’s safer to step away from that life.” She nearly clamped a hand over her mouth at her admission. What the hell?
His golden skin blanched, and he clenched his hands into fists. Her brother was a born fighter, which had been both helpful and harmful to him over the years. And based on his locked jaw, he appeared ready to throw down with whoever had placed her in danger.
Me. I put myself in danger. “I’m fine, I promise.” The words came out more laid-back than she’d meant them. But if Carter Dominick’s word could be believed, she’d hopefully be fine.
“Rory.” Jesse tipped his head to the side as a knock, followed by the chime of the doorbell, saved her from continuing the conversation.
“I’ll make you a deal. As soon as you open up and talk about Ella, I’ll talk about my past,” she proposed, hoping that’d shut up her brother.
He brushed past her to the hall in a hurry. Mission success. “Let me get the door. You can’t be too careful.”
She had a security system, but it was constantly going off for the stupidest things since her brother had been staying with her—like his two a.m. snack cravings for toast—yeah, they were definitely related.
Jesse cracked the door, but not wide enough for her to see who was outside. “Whoa, man, what are you doing here?” When he opened the door wider, Rory stumbled back a step at the piercing blue eyes that greeted her.
Chris Hunter.
Wow.
So, after three months, he finally sought her out.
Then again, she was actually in one place and “sought-able.” Totally not a word, her mom’s voice popped into her head. Rory rolled her eyes. Their mom may have retired from teaching elementary school, but she hadn’t eased up on either of her own kids when it came to proper grammar.
“Hi.” Her eyebrows must have been hovering at the top of her forehead right now. Chris would be able to see her surprise. And why shouldn’t she be surprised? No warning from Ella’s brother, A.J., about his visit. She’d be calling A.J. to give him a good old Southern earful later.
She’d already given A.J. one when she found out he went and eloped with Ana. Their small hometown had been up in arms about it. Robbed of two weddings since Ella had called off her wedding the night before she was to walk down the aisle three months ago. Granted, she did the right thing since Brian was the wrong man for her.
“Hi,” Chris returned. He had on a navy-blue ball cap. Backward. Why was that always so sexy on a guy? His tan forearms became more pronounced as his hands dove into the pockets of his dark-denim jeans, which were matched with dark sneakers. A short-sleeved, light blue Under Armour cotton shirt clung to his frame. Broad shoulders. Chiseled jaw. He was about the same height as her brother. Probably six-two.
He reminded her of another Chris, but as far as Rory was concerned, he was better looking than the actor Chris Evans. But she understood why Ella’s niece, McKenna, had referred to him as Captain America. Did he have the “Ass of America,” too? Rory didn’t have a chance to check out his backside the one time they’d met at the end of June, but it looked like today she would have the opportunity.
But wait. Why are you here? She’d swear her brain was in some type of strange fog. She felt disconnected, kind of . . . light-headed, woozy. Maybe she had a sinus infection? She hated those.
“What are you doing here?” Jesse asked, voicing her thoughts and stepping to the side to allow Chris entrance.
“I was hoping for a word with Rory.” Chris’s question was directed toward her, not so much asking permission from her brother.
Jesse looked back at her, then toward Chris again. He was probably giving Chris the “can I trust him alone with my sister?” look she knew too well.
“I’ve gotta meet up with my friend anyway. I’ll fix the sink later.” Jesse eyed Rory, checking for the okay to leave her even though he knew full well if Chris worked with A.J., he was solid. But her overprotective brother couldn’t help himself. And if he only knew what she’d really been doing for the last few years, he’d have a heart attack. Everyone in her small town would have taken a collective gasp and fainted.