The Rancher And The City Girl

Shadow lifted his head.

“Stay.”

The dog hopped to his feet and raced around Jericho’s legs. Although the dog would make a nice distraction while Jericho went to talk to Camille, he knew Shadow would prefer to run around outside. So Jericho let the dog out and resisted the urge to follow him into the summer evening.

He climbed the stairs and knocked softly on the partially open door. Camille had been peering out the window. She jumped and turned, one hand pressed against her chest. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth was open as if she was about to scream.

“It’s just me.” Her visible panic once again made him feel guilty for his earlier treatment of her. He needed to think of her as a woman in fear and not someone he detested. “You’re safe here. You know that, right?”

She stood erect and lifted her chin in an attempt to appear strong. He could tell her that he’d seen her fear—heck, she was shaking like a leaf—but he decided not to mention it.

“Sure.”

She didn’t sound convinced. He blew out a breath. “How about sitting outside for a bit?”

Either she didn’t hear the reluctance in his voice or she was scared enough to ignore it. Either way, in less time than it took the words to leave his mouth, she’d flown across the room and they’d descended the stairs.

Now they were seated on the patio beside the pool. Shadow trotted over and placed his head on Camille’s lap.

“Shadow, no,” Jericho said. The dog barked once, then turned his attention back to Camille.

“I don’t mind.” She scratched Shadow’s head, and the dog began wagging his tail so hard his lower body moved from side to side. “Who’s a good boy?”

Shadow barked and then licked Camille’s chin. Camille laughed, and something in Jericho’s chest started to shake loose. Warmth flickered inside him, but he snuffed it out.

The fact that she liked dogs didn’t change his opinion of her. Still, the woman letting the dog slobber all over her face didn’t fit the image of the Camille Parker in his memory. That Camille was selfish and conniving and as cold as the ice encasing his heart.

“Thanks for sitting with me. My rational mind knows there is absolutely no way anyone can find me here, but...” She sighed and her voice faded away.

“But you can’t believe it entirely, so you’re still scared.”

“Exactly.”

She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. He interpreted that to mean she didn’t have anything else to say. The silence wasn’t entirely awkward even if it was miles away from being comfortable. But he managed to keep his dislike buried far beneath the surface, at least for now.

She sprang up suddenly, her body as stiff as a board. “I hope my family isn’t worried about me. I didn’t get a chance to call them before I left.”

“Do you talk to them often?”

“Yes and no. Rodney and I talk a few times a week. But one of his fraternity brothers is getting married in the Bahamas Saturday, so he’s out of the country this week.”

“Then he probably won’t plan on talking to you.”

“True.”

“What about your parents?”

“I speak with them every Sunday, but nothing personal.”

He stared at her. The sun hadn’t quite set when they’d come outside, so he hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights. Now her expression was hidden by shadows. “How can conversations with your parents not be personal?”

“It takes a certain level of skill that only comes with years of practice.” Her voice was bitter, yet he heard pain there, as well. “We talk about work and setting professional goals. I can’t remember a time when my parents weren’t asking me where I saw myself in five years. Talking to them is a never-ending job interview.”

She sighed. “All my parents care about is professional success and money. In a way I understand because they came from impoverished families. They know what it’s like to not know where your next meal is coming from. But they never let Rodney and me just be kids. We couldn’t do things just because they were fun. Everything we did had to be geared toward making money. I guess I started looking at everything that way, thinking that everyone always acted for their own personal gain.”

Was there an apology in there?

He’d met the elder Parkers only a couple of times, and that had been years ago. He’d gotten the impression that they were driven to succeed at the expense of everything else, and it was a characteristic he’d attributed to Camille, as well. Until this very second he hadn’t given a thought to how she’d been raised or the way it impacted her thinking.

The day he’d met Jeanette and Camille, he’d been struck by the close friendship they’d shared. They’d loved each other like sisters. Protected each other. If Camille had believed Jericho was trying to get Jeanette’s money, she’d do everything she could to protect Jeanette, including coming between Jericho and Jeanette. Camille had been wrong about him, but given the way she’d been raised, perhaps he could give her a pass on that. Perhaps.

“You don’t think the people who are after me would go after my parents or Rodney, do you?”

“No. There would be no point.” At least he hoped they wouldn’t harm her family. He didn’t know anything about these people. But there was no sense in getting her all worked up since there wasn’t a thing she could do. “Harming a sitting federal justice or his prominent surgeon wife seems like a big risk to take. It would bring lots of attention. And your brother is out of the country and out of reach.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I am.” Jericho hoped. “And since your brother is hanging with his friends, he might not miss you right away. And it sounds like your parents won’t worry if you miss one phone call.”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

“How will you know when it’s safe to return home?”

“I don’t know. Agent Delgado and I had been keeping in touch by email. Now I’m not sure if I can trust him anymore. Even if he didn’t sell me out, someone in his office did. And I’m not convinced his accident really was an accident.”

“Then we’ll have to play it by ear. Right now all you can do is wait here.”

“Wait here,” she repeated, sounding as though it was just this side of torture. Maybe to her it was. But then, having her around wasn’t a day at the beach for him either.

* * *

Camille lay in bed, listening to the sounds of the house. Jericho was moving around in his room. He was pretty quiet, but she was a light sleeper. The thought of getting out of bed flitted through her mind, but she swatted it aside. She didn’t want to disturb his morning routine. Besides, lying in bed and awakening gradually was a welcome change from her usual routine of jumping up at the crack of dawn, showering so quickly she barely got wet, then hopping into a suit and heels before racing out the door, travel mug in hand. Now that she was at Jericho’s ranch, it wasn’t as if she had anything pressing to do.