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“What?”
“You...all right?”
Ben glanced back at the garden he’d laid to waste. “No one used that stupid garden anymore.”
It wasn’t stupid, Jeremiah wanted to say. It was one of the few things of your mom we had left and you just destroyed it, you—
Cynthia’s cool hand touched his arm.
“Go on in and shower, Ben,” she said. “It’s late.”
Ben nodded and didn’t once look back at Jeremiah.
Lucy woke up with a long slow stretch, clinging to the fevered dream she’d been having of Jeremiah. Paper crinkled when she rolled over and she quickly sat up. More designs. Wedding bands. Leather and silver cuffs. Jewelry for men.
The designer she’d been was gone. Moved out. The delicate, girlish pieces had been replaced by jewelry with weight. Literally and figuratively.
“Wake up, Lucy.” Her mother’s voice snapped her right out of thoughts and she turned, papers in her hands, to show her mom the work.
But Sandra was standing in angry mom pose at the end of her bed.
“What’s wrong, Mom?”
“Why are you selling our condo?”
Lucy was never quick on her feet in the morning, and despite all the lying she was doing currently in her life, she didn’t have a lot of practice with it.
“What—”
“Don’t you dare lie to me, Lucy. I called the real estate agent. She said she’s been boxing our stuff up to stage it.”
Oh no. No. She didn’t want to wake up to this mess, not after last night.
Lucy tossed off the covers, deciding the best defence in this situation was a good offense.
“I’m just checking the market, Mom—”
“Our things!”
“In boxes. Safe in storage.”
Sandra’s eyes didn’t let up. “This is not like you, Lucy. There are secrets you’re keeping. Your business—”
“I sold it.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth she wanted to suck them back in. Sandra’s body went lax with shock.
“No, honey, you didn’t—”
“I did.” She tried to hug her mother, to make this all sound like a celebration, but Sandra stepped away.
“Did you get a good offer?”
Ahhh…twenty thousand dollars in debt or bankruptcy? Not quite. “Good enough to sell.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Or Mia?”
“Because I knew you wouldn’t understand.”
“You’re right, I don’t understand. You’ve been making jewelry your whole life—”
“That’s right, Mom, my whole life, and I can start a new business. Look—” She tried to distract her mom with her new designs but Sandra wasn’t going to be deterred.
“But your employees? The studio? You were so successful. You loved Los Angeles.”
She nearly snorted, but managed to stop herself. “Mom, I hated Los Angeles almost as much as you did.”
“Is that why you sold?”
“One of the reasons. Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but I didn’t think anyone would care.”
Sandra scowled at her for that. “When have I not cared about every single part of your life?”
“Maybe...maybe I just didn’t want you to care. Maybe I just wanted it to be private.”
Oh, that hurt her mother, and her face turned to stone before she left the room, sweeping out but leaving a chill behind.
“Uncle J?” Casey asked for about the twentieth time. “Are we going to go inside?”
“Yep.” But Jeremiah didn’t move. He had his arms crossed over the top of the steering wheel and just kept staring out the windshield at the Rocky M. It was Thursday afternoon and they were early. He’d had some kind of half-baked notion that he might catch Lucy and Ben in whatever kind of elaborate lie they were working on.
Or, he thought, trying to look on the bright side, maybe he’d catch them back in that garden working hard.
All he had to do was ask Lucy if she was lying to him. Previous to Saturday night it would have been hard, but after Saturday night…he just felt like the biggest asshole even thinking she’d lied to him. That woman in the hotel room, and even that night at the arcade, and earlier the fight—that woman wouldn’t lie to him. That woman…she’d haunted him for two days. And for two days he’d let himself get consumed by the work of the ranch, the work of the boys, so he wouldn’t have to think about the chance that Lucy had been lying to him.
But of course Ben could be lying about hanging out every day in the barn instead of working with Lucy on the garden.
But his gut was telling him that something just wasn’t right about this situation.
So he had to ask. He just had to man up and ask.
“Let’s go, Casey.” He popped open the door and Casey scrambled out of his booster seat in the backseat of the cab.
“Is someone in trouble?”
“Why?” Jeremiah asked, opening the door so Casey could jump down.
“You got your trouble face on.”
Jeremiah forced a smile and rubbed his nephew’s hair.
They took three steps toward the front door and it opened. Lucy stepped out, her hair in damp, inky curls down her back. Her long lithe body was in a yellow sundress that hugged her breasts, flared at her waist and left miles of her legs bare. The finishing touch—cowboy boots. Honestly, she was his dream come true.
