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And every Coleson in Finley Creek had been sent special invitations. Because of what Eastman had done to them all. The mere thought of being with those people made Heather sick to even think about. But she’d go.
Because there was one thing that was absolute: Una Coleson, Omnes Colesons.
One Coleson, All Coleson. No matter what.
Her sister Bonnie was going. The rest of Heather’s family was going.
She would be there to make sure they were okay, no matter what. Safe—as safe as she could keep them. Along the way, maybe she’d find the answers to every question she had. Heather thought about that, as she watched out the window.
She watched that dark SUV circle the block once again. Next time, she was going to get behind it. Get the license number and run it. Just in case.
It wouldn’t be the first time someone had followed her family around in Hughes Heights. Since Eastman, Colesons equaled clicks online. And that meant big money for some. Even if they trampled all over her family in the process.
And some of those freaks thought her family knew things they didn’t.
That had proven dangerous before.
Heather would never forget that.
Her family wasn’t truly safe here in Hughes Heights. That was a lesson she was learning more and more and every day.
32
The Barratts were having a barbecue. His little rabbit was going. It was just assumed she was going. Of course, she was, it was becoming an annual event—and she was currently living with the hostess’s family. People from the TSP, from the local hospitals, the Barratt families, and anyone else Melody decided got an invite got an invite.
The Barratt Ranch opened to these people. It was a security nightmare.
It had started the year after Melody married the billionaire. His father Handley Barratt had been the legal owner of the ranch. After his escape to wherever that cagey bastard had ended up, the Barratts had joined forces and given the place to the custody of Turner Barratt. The mayor of Finley Creek. Now the mayor and Houghton Barratt and all the other fancy-schmancy Barratts, including Gunnar’s little rabbit, threw a big party annually to up the Barratt image or something.
Jarrod just went every year because, hell, the Becks—and their hangers-on—were all the family he had. This year, though, he was going for one reason and one reason only.
His little rabbit went every year, too.
She wasn’t escaping him now.
The woman was avoiding him, even with him shadowing every move she made.
It had to be because of that kiss. It was the only thing that made sense.
Jarrod had the suite next to hers so he could hear her if she called out for him. She probably never would. Not unless she absolutely had to. He knew he had only himself to blame. It probably would have been more efficient if Gunnar had been the one assigned to Haldyn.
She’d probably be a lot more cooperative with Gunnar. It was probably safer for Jarrod for her to be with Gunnar than him right now, too.
It had to be that kiss. She’d changed everything between them. Yes, he had been the one to kiss her. But she had done something to him, damn it.
He wasn’t the kind of guy who got all hung up in a woman. Especially a woman he worked with. That always complicated things in ways he didn’t want.
Besides, she wouldn’t want him. Haldyn had made it clear for years that he wasn’t the kind of man she would ever want. No denying that. Or that it was probably his fault for being a misanthropic asshole.
His job was to protect her. Not drool over her.
Drooling over her was Daniel’s job. And the other man was welcome to her.
Jarrod kept telling himself that as he dressed, then stepped into the hallway.
The annual BBQ at the Barratt Ranch would begin in half an hour. Their ride was waiting downstairs.
He’d get through babysitting her today—and then he’d get her back to the castle, where she would be safe. There was no way he was letting her wander off on her own today. Not with as many people, including TSP Jarrod never would trust, milling around that damned place.
