Rescued by a Ranger

“Well, if there’s anything I can do,” he offered. “Spaghetti noodles. Car maintenance.”

“That’s kind of you, Mr. Winchester, but Belle and I have to learn to stand on our own feet.”

“An admirable sentiment.” He crossed to his porch and unlocked the front door. Dolly practically knocked him down in her excitement.

Eden grabbed the dog by the collar. “Belle and I will take her out back.”

He motioned for Alex to come inside. “After you.” He couldn’t help noticing how she tried to shrink her body as she passed him, flattening herself against the doorjamb to insure they wouldn’t accidentally touch.

Though she clearly wasn’t comfortable around him yet, maybe they could help each other. She was new in town and might need a tour guide of sorts. Their daughters had certainly hit it off; he’d never seen Eden warm to someone so instantaneously. Alex Hunt might not think she was in the right state of mind to make new friends, but Zane resolved to prove her wrong. That smile Eden had flashed him when she made the raccoon remark still warmed him from the inside, like hot chocolate.

I’m not a bad guy, he silently promised Alex. And I think you’ll grow to like me. He hoped so, anyway.

Because if he had anything to do with it, their families would definitely be spending time together.

Chapter Four

Alex waited while Tess Fitzpatrick, a local dance teacher, counted out bills from the petty cash drawer. Tess was a cheerful redhead with a round face and pert features that made her look younger than she was. The first time Alex had come into the studio, she’d hesitated, not sure if Tess worked here or was a teenage student.

“We are so lucky you answered our ad,” Tess said as she handed Alex an envelope. “With all of our age groups and classes performing at the festival, we really need the extra help with costumes and sets.”

Last week, Alex had seen the notice for a seamstress who could alter ballet costumes that didn’t quite fit and do minor repairs on older pieces from the studio’s wardrobe closet. Alex had learned to sew early in life, often refurbishing or embellishing ill-fitting hand-me-downs so she wouldn’t feel like such a loser wearing them.

She returned Tess’s smile. “I’m happy to lend a hand—especially since you’re paying me.”

“Only a nominal amount,” Tess fretted. “As skilled as you are, you should be better compensated.”

“I’m not complaining. I’m just glad you didn’t mind paying me in cash.” She’d rather not tempt fate by trying to cash checks made out to “Alexandra Hunt.”

Alex had stammered through a clumsy explanation about her bank not having local branches and how it wasn’t worth starting a new account since her stay here would only be temporary. Tess was too good-natured to question the awkward rambling, but Alex knew she was a terrible liar. Hell, she felt guilty and self-conscious just standing in the same room with another redhead. Tess’s ginger curls made Alex nervous that her dye job was blatantly obvious in comparison. Even though Bryce had assured her she looked great, her new, sleek, dark hair occasionally made her feel like an actress in a bad spy film.

If only this were a movie and not her real life! Tension knotted her stomach, but she tried to keep her voice light as she addressed her daughter.

“Come on, punkin.” The little girl stood watching through an interior window into the ballet studio. “Time to go grocery shopping.”

Belle kept her gaze on the dozen six-year-olds who jumped and spun in a whirl of black leotards and gauzy pink skirts. “They’re pretty,” she said wistfully.

Alex was so on edge that she almost jumped when Tess reached out and cupped her wrist.

“Sorry.” Tess’s brown eyes were contrite. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I was trying to be discreet.” She glanced in Belle’s direction and dropped her voice to such a hushed whisper that Alex was nearly reduced to lipreading.

“I don’t want to speak out of turn,” Tess began. “Although, I am sort of known for that around town. Anyway, I realize you won’t be here long and it may not be in your budget, but if she wanted to attend a class, we could work something out. Maybe trade a few more sequin maintenance jobs for—”

“Class? Can I, Mommy? Can I take a class?” Belle’s attention was fully on her mother now, the spinning dancers behind the glass forgotten.

Tess winced. “I didn’t mean for her to overhear that.”

“Don’t blame yourself.” Alex shot her daughter a reproachful look. “She has bionic hearing or something. I’ve never understood how she does it.”

“Please?” Belle asked.

“That’s for me and Miss Fitzpatrick to discuss later. Right now, it’s time to buy groceries.” Alex herded her daughter toward the door, trying not to think about how many puppies and dance lessons Eileen and Phillip Hargrove could afford. Yeah, they’re loaded, but giving Chris every single thing he ever asked for didn’t do him much good, did it? She couldn’t let the Hargroves get their cold hands on her daughter. Even if her suspicions about their criminal tendencies were exaggerated—which she doubted—she knew they were dangerous in other ways.

Belle walked silently to the car, doing nothing to help while Alex buckled her into the booster seat. “Miss our old car,” the girl finally grumbled.

Me, too. Alex had insisted Bryce find her something with at least minimal safety features, but she hoped she never had to put any of them to the test. In the event of a collision, the air bags in this piece of junk seemed more likely to whimper in defeat than deploy. She bit her lip, recalling Zane Winchester’s unexpected offer last night, when he’d told her he was willing to help with anything from pasta to car maintenance. As a mother, she couldn’t help wondering if it would be worth the risk to let him look over the vehicle and make sure it was roadworthy, for Belle’s sake. But as a woman on the run, inviting the law over to look under her hood was a really bad idea.

In the backseat, Belle remained uncharacteristically silent. She didn’t recover her normal verve until the produce section of the grocery store. She stood next to the cart, bouncing on the balls of her feet as Alex compared fruit prices.

“Mommy, apples are healthy, aren’t they?”

Alex picked up a bag of seedless grapes. “Mmm-hmm.”

“And exercise is healthy. There was a song about it on my show this morning.” With projection a vocal coach would applaud, she belted out, “‘Gotta move, move, MOVE to find your healthy groove! You gotta—’”

“Shh!” Alex pressed her fingertips to Belle’s mouth.

Her daughter squirmed away. “Don’t do that.”

“Sorry, but you’re not supposed to be so loud in the store. They probably have rules about that. We don’t want to get in trouble.” Not that Belle had any concept of how much trouble they could attract. Was there anyone in the world less suited to lying low and not drawing attention? “No more singing until we get home, okay?”

“Okay.” Belle nodded in prompt agreement, a cherubic picture of obedience. “Is dancing exercise?”

Alex sighed, realizing where this exchange had been leading all along. “I said I’d consider the lessons with Miss Tess. I need time to think about it.”

Alex’s top priority was to keep her daughter hidden and safe. Ballet classes were unnerving. The less Belle interacted with others, the better. But on the other hand, how was the nearly-five-year-old supposed to develop socially and emotionally if her mother kept her isolated in a strange house? Every bit as vivacious as her father had been, Belle needed to be around people.

“Guess what?” Alex changed the subject. “I decided we’re going to the festival this weekend.” It was a stopgap measure, one that would make Belle happy without being as risky as regular dance lessons where she might make friends and unwittingly confide in her classmates.

“We are?” Belle stretched her arms out and spun in a circle. “They have balloon animals at the festival! Eden said so. And pony rides.”

As Alex steered the cart down the bread aisle, Belle kept up a monologue of everything she planned to do and eat at Frederick-Fest. For the first time since they’d showed up in town, Alex felt as if she’d done something right. Maybe the festival would be good for both of them. Lord knew she could use the diversion.

They finished their shopping and progressed to the checkout line, where the cashier took note of the five boxes of spaghetti noodles and smiled. “Having a dinner party?”

Alex’s face heated and she didn’t bother answering as she paid. She hadn’t realized she’d grabbed that many boxes. Had she subconsciously thought that if she armed herself with enough pasta she could avoid running into Zane Winchester again? Unlikely. The man lived next door. It would have been nice if she could park in the Comers’ garage, all the better to dodge her neighbors when she was coming and going from the house, but the garage was full.

Full of the Comers’ belongings. Because it’s their home. This house-sitting situation was fortuitous but temporary. Now that she and Belle had settled into a “safe” place long enough to regroup, Alex had to come up with a long term plan to protect her daughter.

In a perfect world, Alex could stay one step ahead and the Hargroves would never find them. But she couldn’t count on that. She desperately wished she had ammunition against them, insurance she could use to make them relent. For the sake of her marriage—and because she’d thought it prudent to stay beneath the Hargroves’ radar as much as possible—she’d tried for years to ignore her instincts about her parents-in-law. If she’d dug deeper, would she now have enough information to be a real threat to them?

Not necessarily. Even if she’d been brave enough to ask questions sooner, who would have given her straight answers? Besides, if evidence of Phillip Hargrove’s corruption was so easy to come by, someone would have used it by now. No matter how many smiling people clapped him on the back at the country club, the man had a few enemies. But Phillip did enough social and financial damage to his opponents to discourage people from acting against him. He wasn’t used to being thwarted.

A perverse grin tugged at her lips. The man who didn’t tolerate ever being told no must have been downright apoplectic when he learned his “mousy nobody” of a daughter-in-law had defied him. She wished she could have seen the look on his face when he’d realized she wasn’t walking into that courtroom. Her self-congratulatory moment faded as quickly as it came, though. She’d caught them off guard the first time simply because it had never occurred to them that she would have the gumption to leave, just as Chris had underestimated her ability to walk away from him. Now Eileen and Phillip had a better understanding of the lengths she would go to in order to keep Josie out of their clutches.

Without the element of surprise on her side, what other weapons did she have in her arsenal?

* * *