in the shoes with straps. “Oh, yeah, these are good.”
Gabby hitched her arm through Charlotte’s and asked, “Want a cookie?”
“Only if I make some lemonade.”
“Not milk?”
“I like to drink something sour when I eat something sweet.”
They were ignoring him. Zach cleared his throat to get their attention. “Ladies, we need to—”
“Come on, Zach. Have a cookie.”
“I don’t want a damn cookie.”
“Well, I do.” Gabby pulled out a long strand of Charlotte’s hair and asked, “Have you ever thought of coloring your hair? Maybe going blond?”
Charlotte giggled again. “I couldn’t.”
Zach was ready to bang their heads together. Last night, Charlotte had been scared and brandishing a rifle. Today, she cheerfully sashayed down the hallway, leaving a faint trail of glitter makeup. She’d been suckered in by Gabby’s bad influence. Even Daphne had turned traitor. The dog trotted along after the two women, wagging her tail.
Earlier, when he’d seen the boot print and realized the danger might be real, his first thought was to take Charlotte and Gabby to his house and leave the Roost for whoever wanted to tear the damn place apart. Unfortunately, he doubted that either of these women would agree to that solution unless they were hog-tied, bound and gagged. He had to come up with something else. And he needed for them to pay attention.
In the kitchen, they were nibbling at the cookies. In the sink were the burned remains of two dish towels. Gabby waved to him. “You’ve got to try these, chocolate chip and yummy.”
Clearly, she was the leader. If he convinced Gabby that there was danger, Charlotte would do whatever she said. Keeping his voice low so he wouldn’t yell, he said, “I want to talk to you. Alone.”
“Something wrong?”
“Now.”
“Sure.” She patted Charlotte on the arm. “Why don’t you make some of that lemonade?”
In her high heels, Gabby strolled past him, went down the hallway, stopped beside the staircase with the shattered gargoyle on the newel post and faced him. “You look mad.”
Initially, he hadn’t intended to tell her about the boot print because he didn’t want to frighten her. He’d changed his mind. A healthy dose of fear might be just what she needed. “I found a footprint down the road along the fence line. It’s evidence that someone was spying on the house last night.”
“Spying?” Her eyes opened wide, and then she looked down as though she was unable to face the truth. Her thick black lashes formed crescents on her smooth cheeks. “Are you sure?”
“Evidence.” He repeated the word. “I saw footprints.”
“Do you think it was a treasure hunter?”
“I don’t know. Last night, there was a watcher. During the memorial service, there was a break-in. It’s enough to make me think that you and Charlotte aren’t safe here.”
When she looked up at him, her dark eyes shone with the most appealing light he’d ever seen. The kick-ass city girl was gone, replaced by a woman who was softer, gentler and a little bit scared. “I shouldn’t have come here.”
“This isn’t your fault.”
“I don’t know how to deal with this kind of threat. I can’t call 911. It doesn’t do much good to run because there’s no place to hide in all this open land. I can’t use a gun. Last night, I was barely able to escape from Charlotte.”
“If you listen to me, I can show you what to do.”
“Remember me? The girl who’s afraid of horses?” Her full lips lifted into a half smile. “I can’t do it. This isn’t my world.”
He should have been glad that she realized she didn’t belong in the mountains. It would save him a truckload of grief if he said goodbye and sent her on her way. But he didn’t want her to leave, not like this. “I didn’t think you were a quitter.”
“I’m not.” She straightened her shoulders. “I drove four long miserable days to get here. You think that was easy?”
“Nope.”
“The smart thing would be to talk to the lawyer, get the estate settled and back to Brooklyn. In the meantime, I could stay at a motel.”
“You could,” he said.
“But I came here to find out more about myself, my family and Michelle. I want to know who she was and why she stayed here. My brother and I are the last of the Rousseaus. How can I turn my back on my heritage?”
“So you’re not quitting.”
She tossed her head and stuck out her chin. Her vulnerability transformed into rock-hard stubbornness. “I didn’t say that.”
“Then you’re staying.”
“I didn’t say that, either.” With her index finger, she jabbed at his chest. “You should stop jumping to conclusions.”
He caught hold of her wrist. “It’s not my fault, either.”
When she tried to yank her hand back, he held on. On her heels, she stumbled toward him. Her face was inches away from his. And then she kissed him.
The brush of her lips against his was so unexpected that he didn’t quite believe it had happened. At the same time, her kiss had a profound effect. It changed everything.
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