Chapter 15
“Remind me why we’re doing this again,” Jules grumbled. She twisted in her seat to throw an irritated glance at Nikki, who sat in the back of the SUV beside Luke.
Nikki lifted her chin. “Well, first of all, I didn’t know at the time that your hit-and-run wasn’t random. If I had known for sure that you were being targeted by Steve Randall, then I wouldn’t have planned this.” She leaned forward, her voice lightening. “That being said, you’ve been wound so tight, it’s a wonder you haven’t snapped. You need this, Jules. A night to relax and let your hair down.”
Jules couldn’t argue. Tension had become her constant companion. After getting the photo of her and Lisa in the mail, followed by Brock seeing the pickup truck on the curb, Brock had been ready to pack Jules up and whisk her away to someplace safe. However, she resisted, arguing that he could protect her just as well in her own home and surroundings as he could in some remote location. “Also, I just started back to work, and I’m not about to take off again,” she’d insisted. She loved her job and didn’t want to risk losing it because of some madman. More than anything, Jules craved normalcy. She just wanted things to go back to how they were before she had to look over her shoulder every second, fearing what Steve Randall might do.
In the end, she and Brock had reached a compromise. Brock was now staying at her house and sleeping on the couch.
“Come on.” Nikki patted her shoulder. “Just go with the flow. It'll be fun. Think of tonight as a double date.”
Jules snorted. “Yeah, right. A double date.” She glanced at Brock, who was driving, and caught the flicker of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“What?” she snapped.
He shrugged. “Well, we were a couple.”
“ Were being the operative word.” She shot him a look sharp enough to cut.
He just chuckled.
“It’s too bad the two of you aren’t partnering up,” Nikki said, speaking to Jules and Brock.
Jules would’ve felt more comfortable to have Brock as her partner. The prospect of having to make small talk with someone she worked with felt overwhelming, especially in her current state of mind. However, they’d decided that it would be smart to use this opportunity for her to talk to Asher Winslow in a casual setting to see if she could find out any additional information on what was happening with Steve Randall. So, the plan was for her to ask Asher to be her partner for the evening.
When they turned onto South Main Street, Jules couldn’t help but be impressed with the artsy area bustling with activity. The street was lined with several trendy boutiques, along with quaint shops selling everything from clothing and candles to books and handmade jewelry. Several of the shops had canopies over the doors, which added to the ambiance.
The location for the cooking class was a modern industrial building with exposed red brick and black-trimmed windows. The windows were large enough for her to see inside, where massive pendant lights hung from the open ceiling.
Jules’s mood lifted despite herself.
“See?” Nikki said, grinning. “This is going to be fun. We’re about to learn how to make Mediterranean food from a top-tier chef.”
“I can hardly wait,” Brock said dryly.
Nikki laughed. “Well, at least Luke’s excited.”
“Ecstatic,” Luke piped up, a little too enthusiastically to be genuine.
Nikki nudged him hard.
“Ow,” he yelped, rubbing his shoulder. “Pipe down, Combat Barbie.”
She made a face at him. “You’re ecstatic, huh?”
“Thrilled,” he said with a straight face. “Always wanted to learn how to cook ...” he looked at Brock through the rearview mirror and winced, “… whatever Mediterranean food even is.”
Nikki sighed. “You’re hopeless.”
They parked and filed inside. Soft music played under the buzz of conversation as guests checked in and sipped wine from glasses with long stems.
The space was warm and inviting—long farmhouse-style tables lined one side of the room, and cooking stations had been set up with cutting boards, ramekins of spices, fresh herbs, colorful, mouth-watering vegetables, and varied other food items they would presumably need during the class.
Nikki glanced at Luke. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, Stalker Boy.”
He groaned dramatically. “Can’t stay away from me, huh?”
“Oh, hush.”
Jules and Brock exchanged an amused look. Things certainly seemed to be heating up between Nikki and Luke. Jules supposed the Scandinavian Prince was truly history.
Brock shoved his hands into his front pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Well … this is interesting.”
A chuckle rippled through Jules’s throat. She’d never seen Brock look more out of place.
“What now? Is Dr. Winslow here yet?”
She surveyed the large room. “Don’t see him. He must not be.”
“If he doesn’t show then I guess that leaves me and you.” Brock flashed her a rueful grin that caused her to swoon. It was crazy and a little disheartening how much this man affected her. Should she give him another chance? Her heart leaped at the thought.
She took in a long breath, reminding herself that now was not the time to make any drastic decisions. Once Steve Randall was apprehended, she could start thinking about her future. Contrary to what Zoe said, Jules wasn’t about to throw caution to the wind and give in to the temptation of getting back together with Brock. She needed time to process everything that was happening.
No, that wasn’t true. What she really needed was assurance that Brock wouldn’t bolt at the next sign of trouble with Trevor.
Several minutes later, there was still no sign of Asher.
“Well? Should we call it and partner up so we can go and claim a table?”
She glanced towards the entrance as Asher strode in. When he saw her, a wide smile lit his handsome face.
“He’s here,” she announced to Brock. “There.” She directed her line of vision to Asher, who was striding over with easy confidence.
The transformation in Brock was immediate. His rock jaw went taut, eyes narrowing.
Amusement circled through her. Was Brock jealous that she’d be spending the evening paired up with Asher? It certainly seemed that way. Brock obviously wasn’t expecting the doctor to be so handsome.
“Hey. You made it.” Jules offered Asher a warm smile.
“I did,” he responded, holding her gaze for a fraction too long. She felt Brock’s disapproval so acutely that he might’ve been shouting it from the rafters. Interesting how she was so in sync with his emotions.
Asher shifted his gaze to Brock as Jules quickly did the introductions. “Asher, this is my cousin Brock.” She hoped that it was okay to address Asher by his first name.
“Pleased to meet you.” Asher extended his hand, and the two men shook.
Asher turned to her with a hopeful expression. “Would you like to partner up with me?”
“I’d love to,” she said smoothly, relieved that she didn’t have to go through the awkwardness of asking him.
A few seconds later, a middle-aged woman stepped into the center of the room. She wore a white chef’s apron and hat, dark curls framing her round face.
“Good evening,” she began with a large smile. “My name is Darla. Welcome to your tour of the Mediterranean. We’ve got a wonderful evening ahead. You'll find complimentary snacks and drinks at each table, and then we’ll dive into a hands-on cooking experience. Afterward, we’ll all dine together on the delicious dishes you've created.” She gestured toward the prep stations. “First up—choose a partner.”
Jules turned to Brock. “I guess you should find a partner.”
He nodded, looking like he was about to get beaten with a stick.
She gave him a soft nudge. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
Asher motioned. “Shall we?”
“Let’s do it.” They went and found an open station. Brock ended up getting paired with a silver-haired woman who looked absolutely delighted. Jules couldn’t help but giggle.
“What?” Asher questioned.
“My cousin looks absolutely miserable.”
“Does he live here in Fort Worth?”
“No,” she said vaguely, “he’s visiting from out of town.” Luckily, before Asher could ask any more questions, the class got underway. Jules had never been great at chit-chat. She fumbled for something to say. “So … are you enjoying the class?” She winced inwardly. Lame question. It had barely started.
“I guess we’re about to find out,” he said pleasantly.
At least he hadn’t made her feel awkward for asking a dumb question.
They assembled the ingredients—chickpeas, garlic, lemon—and began following the instructor’s steps for making hummus.
“How’s your recovery going?” Asher asked.
“It’s been rough,” she said honestly. “But I’m surviving.”
“You look like you’re doing pretty well without crutches.”
“It’s getting easier. I’m hoping the worst is over.”
Asher’s brow creased. “Any leads on who hit you?”
“No. But I’m almost positive that it was Steve Randall.”
He didn’t look the least bit surprised.
“Mindy told me strange things have been happening to the staff while I was out. I heard about LouAnna’s tires getting slashed, the person calling Dr. Caldwell and hanging up … and the note left on Mindy’s dog.” It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him about the photo that she’d gotten in the mail. However, if she brought that up, it would dominate the conversation. She was here to get information, not give it.
“Things have been tense,” Asher said somberly. “I just can’t believe we’re all being targeted by some crazy person.”
Asher’s expression shifted, giving Jules the impression he was holding something back.
“What is it? Have you also been getting calls where someone hangs up?”
“No. Not exactly.”
Jules leaned in. “What then?”
He glanced around and lowered his voice. “It’s just a feeling. Like I’m being followed.”
A shiver ran through her. “I know exactly what you mean.”
Their eyes locked as a flicker of understanding passed between them.
“You’ve felt it too?” he asked.
“I have,” she admitted. “Has anything else happened to you?”
His expression grew troubled. “Well ... this may sound crazy, but I think someone broke into my house.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “What?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I’m in the process of upgrading my security system because the old one glitches and doesn’t catch everything, so I can’t be sure. A few nights ago, I came home after my shift, and things felt off. A few items were moved. Nothing major. Things were just not how I left them.”
Jules’s stomach twisted. “Like what?”
“The mail on my counter had been moved. A drawer in the kitchen was slightly open. One of the picture frames in the hallway was crooked—just enough to catch my attention.”
“Did you call the police?”
He shook his head. “I thought about it, but nothing was taken. I felt foolish and wondered if I was being paranoid. I checked my cameras, but they didn’t pick up anything. Like I said, I’m upgrading my system because the one I have is unreliable.”
Jules thought about the pickup truck that Brock spotted alongside the curb. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to get the plates. The one good thing that had come out of the ordeal was that Brock was able to relay the info to the PI, telling Leroy Gilcrest to be on the lookout for the green pickup truck. Before, Leroy had been looking for Steve Randall’s beige Chevy diesel pickup truck. Now, they could add the green Ford pickup to the list. Also, Luke and Nikki could watch for it when they went back to Eagle Mountain Lake to scour the area. “You’re not being paranoid. This is getting serious.”
He nodded grimly. “You just never expect this sort of thing to happen. Bree Cline is an outstanding office manager. I’m glad that she and LouAnna took extra measures and hired the security guards.” He paused, giving her a meaningful look. “I just can’t help but think that we might all need protecting 24/7 until Steve Randall is caught.”
“I agree,” she said quietly, immensely grateful that she had Brock in her corner. But none of the other staff members were as fortunate. She couldn’t stand the thought of Steve Randall harming any of them. She was still reeling from Alyssa’s death. She couldn’t handle losing any more coworkers or friends.
“Are you okay?”
An automatic smile curved her lips. “Yeah. Do you mind if I ask ... why weren’t you there that day? For Lisa’s surgery.”
He winced. “It was stupid, really. I ate at a roadside taco stand the night before, and it didn’t sit well.”
“I'm sorry.”
He exhaled slowly. “I can’t help wondering if things would’ve been different … had I not gotten sick.”
“They wouldn’t,” she stated firmly. “Lisa’s death had nothing to do with anything we did. No one could’ve predicted that she had a family history of blood clots or that she’d recently taken a long plane ride.” She looked him in the eyes. “You’re not to blame.”
“I know,” he said dully, guilt lingering on his face.
She understood all too well how he felt. Thoughts of Alyssa slipped back, an ever-present reminder of her regrets. Had she not encouraged Alyssa to leave her boyfriend, she might still be alive. That decision haunted Jules, even though she knew deep down it had been the right advice. Alyssa was pregnant. She couldn’t stay with a man who was abusive. Jules knew all of this logically, but knowing and feeling weren’t the same.
Asher touched her hand. “You did everything you could. You’re a good nurse.”
“Thanks.” She discreetly pulled her hand away when she noticed Brock watching with a dark and brooding expression.
They got to work blending the chickpeas.
Asher lifted a spoon from the bowl and held it out to her, his voice playful. “Taste test?”
Jules hesitated, the intimacy of the setting making her uncomfortable. He offered the spoon, and she took it, not wanting to offend him. She took a bite, the flavor of lemon and garlic zinging on her tongue. “Mmm. That’s amazing.”
“I’ll take that as a win,” he said with a smile that lingered just a little too long.
Their eyes met again—closer now, the kind of proximity that made the air feel charged. Jules was starting to see why Asher Winslow had the women swooning. He was fun to be around with his casual manner. Also, he wielded a quiet confidence, something women were drawn to. Other women, but not her. She preferred the rough-and-tumble G.I. Joe types. She grinned inwardly at the thought.
Slowly and with an almost playful deliberation, Asher scooped a small dollop of the hummus onto a wedge of pita bread and held it out to her. “Here. Try it like this,” he said, his voice low and inviting.
Uh, oh. She didn’t want to give Asher the wrong idea. Jules leaned in and took the bite from his hand. The intimacy of the gesture wasn’t lost on her—neither was the way he watched her mouth or the pleased smile that tugged at his lips when she murmured, “Mmm. That’s even better.” As she glanced across the room, she caught Brock staring again. Jaw rigid. Eyes piercing. When she caught his gaze, he turned away quickly, stabbing something in his bowl with more force than necessary.
The pulse in Jules’s throat quickened. She couldn’t deny the awareness curling low in her belly from Brock’s reaction. The two of them were connected in a way she couldn’t deny. And that, in itself, was disturbing. She braved another look in his direction. His brazen eyes burned into hers. He was watching her and didn’t care a whit if she knew it. Good grief, he was a force to be reckoned with. Everything in her wanted to march over and have a shouting match with Brock. She wanted to slap his rugged face and then kiss him long and hard until this ridiculous longing for him subsided.
But she couldn’t do any of those things. So, she turned her attention back to Asher instead. And yes, she might’ve amped up the charm just to spite Brock Ellis.
Asher was a good conversationalist, which made the task of getting to know more about him surprisingly pleasant. He told her about growing up in Fort Worth with his younger sister. Medicine was the family business. Asher’s sister was a pediatrician; his father was an orthopedic surgeon. Asher’s mother was the only one who didn’t work in the medical field. Rather, she oversaw a couple of charities.
Jules told him about the family ranch. “My dad owns a working cattle operation just outside of Weatherford. Growing up, my sister and I got to do all the glamorous stuff. You know, mucking out stalls, hauling hay bales, bottle-feeding calves at three in the morning.”
Asher laughed. “Seriously?”
“Oh yeah. And it didn’t stop there. I’ve chased more than one runaway cow through a mesquite field. Don’t even get me started on branding season. That’s a whole other level of fun.”
“Ranch life sounds ... intense.”
“It can be at times, but it can also be mundane.” A grin tugged at Jules’s lips. “Once, my dad made my sister and me haul away old shingles from one of the barns in wheelbarrows. We kept arguing, ‘but we’re girls.’”
“That sounds rough.”
“It was. I used to think my dad was the meanest man on the planet.” She chuckled. “Now I realize what a blessing it was that I grew up learning how to work. And how to dodge manure like a pro.”
His eyes popped open wide, and then he laughed. She found herself laughing also. It was a welcome relief from all the stress. She glanced over at Nikki, who was sniggering at something Luke had said. Those two were getting tight quickly. A pang went through her. That’s how it had been with her and Brock. She couldn’t help but look over at him. It was unsettling to think that someone who’d only been in her life a relatively short period of time could have such a profound effect. She supposed that love didn’t have a timeframe. She was in love with him—hopelessly and completely. And she had no idea what to do about it. Feeling her gaze, he caught eyes with her. Then he gave her a slight smile that sent her heart tumbling. She grinned back, enjoying the swift connection that ran through them like an electrical current.
Asher pulled her out of the moment. “What got you into nursing?”
She blinked, trying to get her bearings. “When I was eleven, I was climbing a tree.”
He grinned. “A tomboy, huh?”
“To the nth degree. Anyway, I was climbing, and I fell and broke my arm. Of course, I was bawling and in terrible pain.”
“I’m sure.”
“One of the nurses at the ER helped calm me down by showing a picture of her dog and telling me funny stories about him. Something about that experience stuck. I decided that I wanted to be like that kind woman and help people.” She shrugged and offered a smile, not overly comfortable talking so openly about herself. “That started my fascination with nursing.”
“You know,” he mused. “it’s interesting that an injury is what set you on the path of nursing. The same thing happened to me in a roundabout way.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “The expectation was always for me to follow in my dad’s footsteps and become a doctor of some sort, but I was resistant to the idea.” A wry grin touched his mouth. “I had aspirations of becoming a rodeo star. I was pretty good at it, actually.”
Her eyes widened. “Wow.” He didn’t strike her as the rodeo type. “What event did you do?”
“Bronc riding.”
“Impressive,” she drawled.
“Well, it was until I got thrown off a horse and did some major damage to my left ankle.”
“Ouch,” she grimaced.
“Ouch is right. Five surgeries later, and I decided that I should probably take another look at going into medicine.” He shrugged. “The rest is history. Oh, and one more thing we have in common—my dad’s old school. I also grew up learning to work. Not manual labor like you did on the ranch. When I was in high school, I took a job installing home security systems.”
“Ah, no wonder you’re so keen on updating your system. If mine goes screwy, you’re the one to call, huh?”
“I don’t know about that,” he laughed. “It was a long time ago. But it did teach me the value of work. I guess I have my dad to thank for that, just as you have yours.”
“Time to dive into the main course,” Darla announced. “We’ll begin with the chicken skewers.
For someone who claimed not to cook, Asher was pretty adroit at the prep. Jules, on the other hand, bumbled her way through the process.
After they’d loaded the marinated chicken strips onto the skewers, Asher surprised her by asking, “If it’s not too personal ... are you seeing anyone?”
The question caught her off guard. For a moment, she didn't answer. Her gaze drifted across the room to Brock, who was laughing at something the older woman beside him had said. His eyes crinkled with amusement, his profile defined and lean, even in the glow of the softer light. An ache mushroomed in her chest—sharp, sudden, and undeniable. She pulled her eyes away from him and shifted her focus back to Asher, who was waiting for her answer. “I was,” she said at last. It didn’t work out.”
He nodded. “Same. I was engaged.” He hesitated. “But we wanted different things.”
She gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He gave her a wan smile. “It happens,” he said practically.
“It does.” She couldn’t help but throw another glance in Brock’s direction.
Throughout the evening, she could feel Brock’s eyes on her. He was not pleased that she was getting along so well with Asher. His gaze trailed her movements, hardening whenever she laughed too freely at something Asher said.
A tiny part of her delighted in making Brock suffer. Maybe it was the feisty side of her, or maybe it was the part still bruised from how things had ended between them. But seeing Brock stew, knowing he was jealous? Well, that twisted bit of satisfaction settled deep inside her chest.
Asher leaned close and brushed her cheek.
She blinked in surprise, not comfortable with his familiarity.
“You had a little flour there.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Instinctively, her hand went up to wipe the spot he’d just touched.
His voice softened. “Has anyone ever told you that you have fascinating eyes? A little green ... a little gold.”
A nervous laugh slipped out before Jules could contain it. Where was this coming from? Did Asher wake up one morning and suddenly decide he had a thing for her? The two of them had worked together for years, and he’d not once given her any indication that he was romantically interested in her. Err … that wasn’t exactly true. She remembered how Mindy had teased Jules in the break-room about how Asher was showing her interest. At the time, she’d brushed it off as Mindy being overly dramatic—as usual. But now? Maybe Mindy hadn’t been as off base as Jules thought. She wasn’t sure what to make of Asher’s attention. She realized he was watching her, waiting for a reaction. “Uh ... thank you.” Geez, this was awkward. She certainly didn’t want to give Asher the wrong idea. Maybe flirting with him a little to taunt Brock wasn’t the best idea.
She glanced at Brock, who looked like he might charge across the room any second.
Okay, it probably wasn’t a wise move on her part to rouse up G.I. Joe.
“Is your cousin okay?” Asher asked with a frown.
Jules shrugged in a nonchalant manner. “Hard to say. He gets worked up pretty easily.” That was an understatement.
“Do I need to be worried?”
She forced a laugh. “Uh, probably not. Hopefully not,” she added with a sheepish smile when he looked doubtful.
After the cooking portion was over, everyone gathered around the communal table to eat the dishes they had prepared. Brock made a point of sitting on her right, and Asher took the left. The tension was immediate.
Finally, unable to take it anymore, Jules turned and hissed, “What?”
Brock’s jaw clenched. “Was that really necessary?”
“Was what necessary?” she asked, playing innocent.
“Are you trying to drive me crazy?” he growled.
She cut her eyes at him, her voice going sugary sweet. “By doing what?”
“Flirting with him, right in front of my face.”
“It stinks, doesn’t it?”
He whipped around to face her, a firestorm breaking loose in his eyes, which were ebony in the dimmer light. “Why would you say that?”
She lifted her chin. “If it hurt you to see me having an innocent flirtation with some guy in a room crowded full of people, then imagine how I felt when you dumped me to get back with your ex-wife.”
His face fell. “That’s not fair.”
All of the hurt came rushing back with a vengeance. “No, it’s not fair,” she hissed.
They eyed each other for several long moments.
“We’ll talk about this later.”
She leaned closer, trying to ignore the way her cells swirled out of control at his nearness. “You better believe it.”