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.”
“Right. And would likely be salaciously depicted, at least by some outlets, as the Haves versus the Have Nots.”
Garrett slid a pair of sunglasses on over his eyes. “So, in other words, we’re damned if we stay and have reporters chasing after us with every new accusation. And damned if we leave town and avoid their inquiries, too.”
“Not for long, if I do my job, which I certainly plan to do.”
To Hope’s relief, for the first time since they’d met, he seemed willing to let her take charge of the volatile situation. At least temporarily. So, while Garrett drove, she worked on her laptop computer and her infant son slept.
It was only when they entered rural Laramie County, near dusk, that the trip took an eventful turn.
“Do you see that?” Hope pointed to a disabled pickup truck ahead. The hood was up on the battered vehicle. A young couple stood beside the smoking engine, apparently as unhappy with each other as they were with their transportation.
Worse, the young man—with a muscular upper body and military haircut—was on crutches, his left leg obscured by pressure bandages and a complicated brace.
Garrett drove up beside them. “Need a helping hand?”
“I’m Darcy Dunlop,” the young woman said, her thin face lighting up with relief. “And yes!”
“We’ve got it.” Her grim-faced companion shook his head.
“Tank!” Darcy said, wringing her hands in distress.
“We’ll just wait for the tow truck.”
“But the mechanic said we didn’t have to be here! As long as we leave the truck unlocked, he can take it back to the garage in town on his own.”
Tank’s jaw set, even more stubbornly.
Garrett stuck out his hand, introducing himself. “Army Medical Corps...”
The other man’s expression relaxed slightly. “Infantry. Until this.” He pointed to his injured leg. “Not sure what I’m going to do next...”
They talked a little about the fellow soldier who had saved Tank’s life, and the IED fragments that had made a mess of his limb. How his parents—who lived locally—had taken them in during the year it was going to take to recover and get his strength back.
“That’s rough,” Garrett said in commiseration.
Darcy’s lower lip trembled. “What’s worse is how far we have to go so Tank can get treatment. We either drive back and forth to the closest military hospital—which is a couple hours from here—or Tank gets his care in Laramie. And the rehab there, well, I mean everybody’s nice, but they have no experience with what’s happened to Tank.”
Garrett understood—as did Hope—that there were some things only fellow soldiers, who had served in a war zone, could comprehend. The camaraderie was as essential to healing as medical care. Garrett gave Tank a look of respect. “How about we give you a lift home.”
Darcy gave her husband a pleading look.
Shoulders slumping in relief, the former soldier consented. “Thanks.”
Knowing Tank would have more room for his leg brace in the front, Hope climbed in back to sit with Max, who was beginning to wake up. Darcy took the other side. The two women chatted while Tank gave directions to his parents’ home, a few miles north.
When
