A Texas Soldier's Family

Hope got up gracefully to her feet and moved across the row to the aisle.

“Why isn’t the Lockhart Foundation’s chief financial officer, Paul Smythe, answering any of our questions?” another correspondent asked.

“He’s out of town on a personal matter,” Lucille said calmly. “When he returns, we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“And if you don’t?” another journalist pressed, as Hope glided onto the stage. “Are you prepared to fire Mr. Smythe and/or anyone else involved in what increasingly looks like a severe misappropriation—if not downright embezzlement—of funds?”

His mom faltered.

Hope took the microphone. “Now, Tom, you know as well as I do that’s premature, given that nothing has been confirmed yet...”

With grudging admiration, Garrett watched Hope field a few more questions and then pleasantly end the conference with the promise of another update just as soon as they had information to share.

“So what’s next?” he asked when the family had reassembled in the foundation quarters.

Hope lifted Max into her arms, cuddling him close, then looked at Lucille. “We move on to Step 2 of our scandal-management plan.”

* * *

“DID YOU VOLUNTEER to drive us out to Laramie County? Or were you drafted?” Hope demanded two hours later, when Garrett Lockhart landed on the doorstep of her comfortable suburban Dallas home.

She already knew he wasn’t gung ho about the plan to have his mother stay at the Circle H, the family’s ranch in rural west Texas, to get her out of the limelight until they could figure out what was going on with the foundation.

Garrett shrugged. Clad in a blue shirt, jeans and boots, with the hint of an evening beard rimming his jaw, he looked sexy and totally at ease. “Does it matter?”

Yes, oddly enough, it did matter whether he was helping because he wanted to or because he had been forced to do so. “Just curious.”

He flashed a half smile. “Combination of the two.”

It was like pulling mud out of a pit. “Care to explain?” Hope directed him and his duffel bag to the driveway, where a ton of gear sat, ready to be loaded into the back of her sporty red SUV.

He fit his bag into the left side, where she pointed. “Given how we feel about each other, a three-plus hour journey locked in the same vehicle is bound to be a little awkward.”

No kidding. Hope set a pack-n-play on top of his bag. “Then why bother?”

He lifted her suitcase and set it next to his. “I don’t have a vehicle of my own to drive right now, and I won’t until I get to Laramie County and can borrow a pickup from one of my brothers. Going with you will save me the hassle of renting a car here.”

“You could have ridden with your mother and her chauffeur.”

Arms folded in front of him, he lounged to one side. “Not going to happen.”

She slid him a glance, wishing he didn’t look so big and strong and immovable. “Why not?”

His gaze roved her knee-length khaki shorts and red notch-collared blouse before returning to her face. “Because I don’t want to spend the entire journey dodging questions I don’t want to answer.”

His lazy quip brought heat to her cheeks. “Hint, hint?”

“If the shoe fits...”

Boy, he was maddening.

Worse, she didn’t know why she was letting him get under her skin. She dealt with difficult people all the time.

Maybe they weren’t six feet five inches tall and handsome as all get-out, and military-grade sexy, but...still...

Aware he was watching her, gauging her reactions as carefully as she was checking out his, she lifted her chin. “What were the other reasons?”

This time he grinned. Big time. “It’ll save me from leading the search party later.”

Knowing a thinly veiled insult when she heard one, Hope scowled. “What search party?”

“The one that’s sent out to find you and your baby in the wilds of Laramie County when you get lost after dark.”

Hope inhaled deeply. Breathed out slowly. Gave him one of her trademark watch it looks. “I think I can read a map, Captain.”

“No doubt, sweetheart,” he said in a droll tone. “But unless you can telepathically figure out which road is which when you come to an unmarked intersection in the Middle of Nowhere, West Texas...you might want to rethink that.”

Being lost with a baby who needed to be fed and diapered every few hours was not her ideal scenario, either. “Fine.” She gave him a warning glance. “But you’re driving so I can work.”

He took the keys. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. My only question is—” Garrett eyed the pile of luggage and baby gear still sitting in her driveway “—can you and/or your significant other load the car?”

There he went with the questions about her private life again. Although, why it would matter to him she had no idea. But to save both of them a great big headache, she figured she might as well be blunt.

“First of all, there is no significant other,” she retorted, and thought—but couldn’t be sure—that she saw a flash of something in his blue eyes as she continued expertly packing the cargo compartment with the rest of her gear. “Second, it’s not that much stuff.” She went into the house and returned, toting a sound-asleep Max—who was already belted into his safety seat—to the roomy SUV. Garrett watched her lock Max’s carrier into its base in the center of the rear seat.

“If you say so.”

Clearly, he still had something on his mind.

Hope straightened. “What is it?”

“I’m all for getting my mother out of the public eye. But are you sure this is going to work? Property records are public. The press could still figure out where she’s gone.”

Hope appreciated his concern for his family’s welfare. “They could.”

“But...?”

“It’s unlikely a Dallas news crew will travel three hours out to Laramie, and then back, just to hear a no comment from someone other than your mother. When they could easily interview someone from a nonprofit right here in the metroplex who has a lot to say about how they and the people they serve have been wronged.”

“You’re the scandal manager.” Garrett settled behind the wheel, his large, muscular frame filling up the interior of her car. Frowning, he fit the key into the ignition. “But can’t you pressure the news organizations to present both sides of the story?”

“Yes, and for the record, I already have.” Hope climbed into the passenger seat and closed the garage via remote. “But the Dallas papers and TV stations can still keep the story going—and ostensibly show your side, too—although not necessarily in a positive light.”

His brow furrowed at her careful tone. “How, if my mother isn’t available for any more interviews?”

Nor was anyone else in the family, Hope knew, since his only sister, Sage, was already en route back to Seattle, to handle a catering gig the next day. Chance and Wyatt were headed back to their West Texas ranches, to care for their herds. And Garrett had certainly made it clear he didn’t intend to cooperate with the press. She exhaled. “The media can show old news footage of your mother and father when they announced the formation of the Lockhart Foundation.”

Garrett’s shoulders tensed. “That was a black-tie gala.”