Dear Reader
“That’s all there is to it,” concluded Sawyer Banks from where he sat behind a weathered oak desk. He looked quite at home in the decidedly masculine-flavored office of his outdoor-gear shop, Echo Ridge Outpost. Leather. Wood. Wildlife prints on the knotty pine walls. “Piece of cake.”
Easy for him to say. Victoria “Tori” Janner folded her hands primly in her lap, determined to hear him out. But if her best friend, Sunshine Carston, hadn’t vouched for the rugged, blue-eyed outdoorsman, she wouldn’t be sitting here one minute longer on this snowy February afternoon. What he’d outlined during this interview was troubling, at the very least.
“Apply for the childcare position,” he recapped, his steady gaze holding hers, “and if you get it, I’ll not only employ you here at the Outpost part-time, but behind the scenes I’ll throw in an additional dollar an hour on top of whatever wage you agree on with the Selbys. Does that sound fair?”
More than fair. Suspiciously so.
Tori lifted her chin slightly, determined he wouldn’t detect how uneasy his proposition made her feel. She needed the job—desperately—if she intended to remain in the mountain country community of Hunter Ridge, Arizona. Going “home” to life in Jerome was no longer an option if she could help it.
“If I’m understanding correctly, what your offer boils down to is if I get the childcare job, you want me to spy on the grandparents of your younger siblings and report back to you.”
“Spy?” He shook his head with a laugh, his longish sun-streaked blond hair brushing the collar of his gray plaid shirt. Fine lines creased at the corners of his eyes. “That term’s extreme for what I’m asking you to do—which is to provide a weekly update on activities and exercise, diet, moods and misbehaviors, and—”
“All that detail on the boys, or their grandparents, too?”
He stopped short, then laughed again. “I don’t much care what Ray has for breakfast. Unless, of course, it negatively impacts Landon and Cubby in some way.”
“Cubby?”
“Nickname for Jacob.”
He made his proposition sound so benign. She felt silly challenging him and suspecting hidden motives. But she couldn’t go into anything blindly, no matter how much she needed a job. “I’ll be quite honest, Mr. Banks, I—”
“Honesty is exactly what I want. And discretion. Common sense.” The corners of his mouth lifted. “And call me Sawyer.”
She ignored his coaxing smile, one he’d undoubtedly perfected to sway female hearts. But she was newly immunized against that well-practiced male maneuver. “I require honesty, as well. Is it your intention for me to gather evidence that will enable you to take those children away from their grandparents? I don’t want any part in that.”
Her mom’s mother had raised her, and she wouldn’t accept a role that undermined the twins’ relationship with their grandparents.
“Whoa.” Sawyer held up his hands in defense, and she realized her brows had been lowered, her tone too sharp. Not how she wanted to come across to a potential employer. “Rest assured, Tori, that’s not my intention. Far from it. I have no doubt Ray and Therese love the grandsons my dad fathered with their daughter. That’s not the issue. The deal is that they’ve suddenly had to take on two active children. That’s asking a lot of people who’ve reached the golden years of a retirement they’ve worked long and hard for. I’m just not convinced it isn’t more than they can handle on their own.”
He again sounded reasonable. Kind and caring. Why was she so distrustful? A residual effect of her ex-fiancé’s abrupt departure, no doubt.
“While we’re not close, I have a decent enough relationship with them and the boys.” He turned in his chair to snag a photo off the bookshelf behind him and handed it to her. Gazing down at the towheaded, freckle-faced twins, she suspected the adorable twosome were the spitting image of Sawyer in his childhood.
“So I want to do whatever I can,” he continued, “to ensure the welfare of kids and grandparents alike without it appearing that I’m meddling.”
“Which is why...”
“Why I suggested they hire someone at least part-time to give them a hand. After months of debating the pros and cons between them, they’re suddenly acting on it.”
He raised a brow, awaiting her response.
Once more she glanced down at the photo, then placed it on the desk. “How long, again, has it been since the fire?”
“Over a year. Fifteen months. The twins were almost three and a half years old at the time. Four and a half now. They’ll start kindergarten in the fall.”
“Heartbreaking.” How well she knew life could be sailing along fine one minute and upended the next. “I’m sorry, too, that you lost your father and your—”
“Dad’s wife. She was never my stepmother. They’d been married less than five years before...” A shadow seemed to pass over his features.
She nodded, again acknowledging the tragic event that had left the twins orphaned. Sawyer had told her his father—widowed? divorced?—had remarried and started a late-in-life family.
“How are the boys doing? Emotionally, I mean.” She didn’t want to get in over her head. “I’m not a psychologist or counselor, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“What I’m after is a competent pair of eyes and ears—and someone who’s good with kids. Your friend Sunshine assures me you took good care of her daughter while she was wrapped up in the town council campaign last fall. That you and Tessa have a good relationship.”
“I’ve known Tess since she was a baby, so that could account for that.”
“You’re being too modest. Sunshine mentioned you grew up babysitting neighbor kids, as well.”
“I did.” That had been the only means of earning money for her artistic endeavors until she was old enough to work in one of the tourist-frequented shops. Infant care had scared her, but by the time her charges reached the toddler stage she’d done fine. Okay, maybe better than fine.
“Sunshine says you’re bright, well-grounded, sensible and loyal to a fault,” he continued, making her sound like the next best thing to a golden retriever. “She says, too, that if you err, it’s on the side of caution. That’s what I need. Someone I can entrust with my little brothers.”
She looked at him doubtfully, uneasiness continuing to gnaw as he handed her a slip of paper with the Selbys’ phone number and email address. “You’re telling me, then, that you don’t know anyone else in town who fits the bill?”
*
