“I left my grandfather and Red this morning discussing tightening security here, adding to it. And since I can see you have other ideas, tell me what they are before I start dinner. Then we can close this door for a while.”
“You could come stay on the ranch.”
“I can’t leave Grandpa, that’s number one. Then there’s my work.”
“Figured that. So I spend my nights here. I need to be on the ranch early every morning, but Red’s going to stay. He more than halfway does anyway, so he’ll just put in the other half while I stay here.”
Cate shifted, crossed her legs, then sipped at her margarita. “Do you think your ladies need a man to look after them? And I need one to look after me?”
A man could navigate a minefield if he knew where to step. And where not to.
“I figure my ladies can handle just about anything that comes. And you’d do a good job with that yourself. And yeah, everybody needs somebody, or ought to, who’ll look after them.”
“That’s a damn good answer to a tricky question. And I won’t lie. I’ll probably sleep better at night with you here. Not just for me, but for Grandpa, Consuela.”
“Then it’s done. I’ve got one more thought before we close the door.”
“All right.”
“I don’t see Hugh or Lily or your dad in this. They were set to pay the ransom. Nothing they did affected the outcome. If we’re wrong, and it’s Dupont behind all this, that changes. But it’s not, because she’d have gone after your family first. And your nanny from back then.”
Her heart jumped. “Oh God. Nina. I never thought of her.”
“Red did. She’s fine. You and the nanny are the ones who turned things on your mother. She’d have made moves there, and she’d have the means to do it.”
“You do know her.”
“As well as I can. It’s a lot harder for Sparks to get to someone in Ireland, even to find her at this point. And for what? She cared enough about you, was afraid enough of your mother to keep her mouth shut about the affair. They set her up as a dupe, but you screwed that up for them, then Dupont finished it off.”
“I’ll feel better when I talk to her myself. I’ll call her tomorrow. You don’t mention yourself, your family?”
“I think we’re low on possibilities, but that’s why I want Red there, why we’re hiring a couple of retired cops he knows to work on the ranch for the season.”
“You cover your bases, Dillon.”
“I take care of what’s mine.” He looked into her eyes in that way that always hit her heart. Right into them, right into her. “You have to know you’re what’s mine.”
Nerves, sudden, intense, pushed her to her feet. “I need to cook.”
She hurried inside, added oil to the skillet. As she gathered ingredients, she mumbled curses—self-directed—in Italian.
And felt the nerves ease off a little with movement, purpose. “You’re going to let me get away with that.”
He topped off her margarita from the pitcher she’d set on the island. “I know how and where to push when something or someone’s being stubborn. You’re not being stubborn, so I can wait.”
“I’m trying to think what I did in this life to deserve you.”
“Now, that’s being stupid. I’m getting another beer.”
“It’s not.” Rubbing her hematite bracelet, she turned to him while the oil heated. “It’s not. And I’m not being stubborn. I need you to . . .” She pushed a hand in the air in his direction. “Keep your distance while I get through this next part.”
Fascinated, he watched her, then poured the beer. “Seriously?”
“Yes. God, this is a lot of talk.” She pushed at her hair, wished she’d tied it back out of the way. “I thought we’d get all that other business out of the way, eat, then have a lot of sex.”
He lifted the beer, drank. “I said it before. The perfect woman.”
“I’m not. So many parts of me are still a mess, and probably always will be. I used to have panic attacks, nightmares. I rarely do now, or in years now, but I know what they feel like, and I just came close to the panic attack.”
“Because I’m telling you I’m in love with you? If you didn’t already know that, I go back to stupid.”
“Not stupid,” she muttered, and added the chicken to the hot oil to sear it. “I didn’t want you to.”
“Love you or tell you?”
“Either, right now. Foutre. Merde.”
“That’s French this time, right? I think I get the picture.”
She pulled air in her nose, let it out of her mouth slowly. “I’m not cursing at you. I worried if things ever got close to that, I’d screw it up, or you would, we would. God, I don’t want to screw it up. I just can’t screw it up. I need you, Dillon.”
Wasn’t that, just that, enormous enough? That need for someone else.
“From where I’m standing, nothing’s screwed up.”
Not yet, she thought, and carefully turned the chicken.
“It may be self-defeating to jump to the what-if, but for me . . . I need you and your family. Since I was a child, since that night. Those emails with Julia helped me through the rough years, just that contact, constant, caring. A touchstone for me.”
“We already made a promise we wouldn’t mess with the family connection.”
“I know. I know we’ll try to keep the promise. I . . . My father took care of what was his, Dillon, and that was me. He gave up so much to take care of me, give me what I needed. I knew we’d both turned a corner when he felt able to travel for work again. I knew he’d stopped worrying, every minute, and that I was okay again. And even through all that, I had Julia. If I could wish for a mother, it would be Julia.”
He laid a hand on her shoulder. “You’re never going to lose her, or any of us.”
“No?” She whirled around. “And what if I said I didn’t love you? That I couldn’t? That I wouldn’t?”
“Then you’d break my heart. And the pieces of it would still love you.”
Because her eyes filled, she pressed her fingers to them.
“Don’t do that and expect me to keep my distance.”
She pulled one hand away, firmly tapped a finger in the air three times to make sure he did.
“I need to cook,” she said again.
Digging for calm, she took the chicken out to rest, covered it. After adding more oil to the pan, she sautéed the peppers and onions she’d already sliced.
Calmer, because she cooked and had to pay attention, she continued. “I told you about the three men I’ve been with.”
“You did.”
“With Noah, I felt some panic at first, but I recognized that as the normal nerves and excitement a girl, with very little experience, feels when a boy she’s already noticed notices her enough to ask her out on her first actual date. I didn’t feel anything like that with the others. Just attraction, interest. Normal, I’d say, if somewhat limited. I’d really hoped to keep it at that with you—with the addition of solid affection and friendship.”