Chapter 3
3
T he shift to having Tansy on the premises wasn’t nearly as difficult as Jake had imaged.
Five days a week, food magically appeared. Hardy, going to pack on the pounds if I don’t watch out type meals, with a steady supply of treats stacked on the counter of the main ranch house.
The two days when Tansy was officially off-duty, the brothers continued as before, occasionally taking turns working the grill in spite of the temperature dipping well below freezing. None of them were picky eaters as long as the food was plentiful and delivered somewhat on time.
Plus, it was far easier when Tansy left them a well-stocked fridge filled with the ingredients they needed.
No, if anything, Jake had to swallow his pride and give his siblings an award for being smart enough to hire the woman. It was the other component that turned out to be a whole lot more challenging than expected.
Tansy was one huge, enormous distraction.
He grumbled his way along the well-packed snowy trail that led to the ranch house and tried to figure out exactly what it was about her that got his hackles up.
Maybe it wasn’t her , but the fact another person now lingered in their space, contributing to what had originally been a plan cooked up by him and his two brothers. They’d always said it was a chance to come back together after moving apart when their stepdad passed.
They needed a fresh start—or at least he and Declan both had. Declan’s wife had passed suddenly after a short but intense bout with cancer. Jake had left the police force after becoming completely disheartened by the politics and corruption.
“You look miserable.”
Jake glanced up to discover the other full-time occupant of High Water eyeing him with curiosity. Kevin Robb was their on-site psychologist and enthusiastic dog walker for the few beasts currently living in the animal shelter.
Even now he had two of them on leashes, the difference between the giant husky and the small Pomeranian comical as they sniffed eagerly at the full extent of their leads.
“Your dogsled team isn’t going to win you any awards,” Jake offered dryly.
Kevin grinned. “Wouldn’t that be something? Honestly, the big brute is a bit of a lazy butt, so I think Little Princess here would outpull him any day of the week.” He eyed Jake closer. “Something on your mind?”
“We hired you for the ranch hands who will be coming through.”
Kevin glanced around and raised a hand in the air. “Business is slow, and I’ve always got my analyst hat on.”
Maybe it would be good to talk about it. Jake’s commitment to not complain to his brothers had stood firm. Even after two weeks, he hadn’t once complained about being left out of the loop with Tansy’s hiring.
Talking to Kevin wasn’t really complaining?—
And there he went, justifying it all over again.
His friend snickered. “The dead-air I just got to my suggestion means you absolutely want to talk about it. So let’s do this. I’ll take my mismatched oxen here back to the barn, then how about we meet in the art studio?” He considered for a minute. “There’s a few final bits of window trim that need to be stained. We can take care of that while we talk.”
The man was brilliant. It was somehow easier not to think of it as a therapy session when they were knocking off one of the final things on Jake’s checklist.
The art studio absolutely needed to be ready. They had their first weekend visitors arriving Friday night, and while it was only a group of six, it meant High Water was about to officially be open. The public-facing, money-making side of High Water, that was.
Jake filled a thermos with coffee and nabbed a handful of muffins off the counter in the main house, timing it perfectly so Tansy was out of the room when he raided the kitchen.
The woman got up at five a.m. every day. It made it damn near impossible to avoid her when he wanted to grab a quick breakfast.
Of course it also meant that there was fresh baking every morning, so it wasn’t as if he really had anything to complain about.
Out in the art studio, the sunshine reflected off the hardwood floors and created a warm honey glow that bounced off the walls. Jake filled a cup and grabbed a muffin, settling into one of the oversized easy chairs arranged to look out over the land to the south.
It was hard to keep that disgruntled feeling inside sharp when confronted with pristine acres of snow and towering spruce trees against the Rocky Mountains.
He sat and enjoyed his breakfast. Kevin copied him and settled into the chair at his side, munching quietly as he too looked over the endless vista.
“That alone is worth the price of admission,” Kevin said. “You know, when you gave me a shout and told me what you were doing here, I thought it was a pretty good idea. Didn’t realize how much I’d need it at the time.”
Jake took a glance at the friend he’d known for years. The cut that ran through Kevin’s brow and down beside his eye had healed, but it left him with a bit of a rakish look. It might be rude, but they’d always spoken bluntly between them. “You have nightmares about getting that scar?”
“Mostly I’m thankful it wasn’t worse,” Kevin said slowly. “The nightmares I have are regarding the young man who gave it to me. He’s exactly the type of person we might see here at High Water.”
Ouch. “That’s going to make it tough for you.”
Kevin shrugged. “Jake, you know this. Doing the right thing isn’t always easy. But there’s a special sense of pride in doing what’s right in spite of how tough it might be. I can’t let something that happened to me change the person I am in negative ways.”
Jake cringed again, but this time it was for an entirely different reason. He met his friend’s gaze straight on. “Yeah, I think that might be my current dilemma. Stuff that happened in the past changed me, and every now and then I get a reminder of how much I don’t like it.”
His friend leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankles. He sipped his coffee then nodded. “Anything specific?”
Jake wasn’t about to bust out Tansy’s name, because it was pretty clear she wasn’t the problem. Only she came to mind, and he wanted to shake his head to get her out of there.
When he caught Kevin grinning, he realized he was literally shaking his head.
Fine. Bite the bullet and spit it out. “I’ve always been good at organizing things,” Jake offered. “With some of the stuff that’s happened in my past, I might have gotten too obsessed about it.”
“We do like to fall back on habits that give us comfort,” Kevin pointed out. “You’ve had a lot going on over the past years. Your organizational skills have gone a long way to making High Water possible.”
It was as if Kevin was giving him an out, but Jake knew there was a difference between a solid plan and paranoia. “Yeah, but I shouldn’t feel a sense of panic when somebody changes plans on me.”
For a moment, his friend stayed quiet. “Lots to untangle in that sentence,” Kevin finally said. “Let’s hit the two questions you should start with. First, do you have a reason to panic? I mean, consider the source right at that very moment. Sometimes when we get trained by past experiences, there’s a good reason to be wary. We should trust our gut—we earned that knowledge. But if you’re talking about situations involving your brothers, or Petra, can you trust them, or should you panic?”
“Good question. That’s the part keeping me level. I know where their heads are at, and they’re both rock solid. I know what they want in the end is the same thing I want.” This was the easy part to answer. “Aidan will do everything he can, even if he puts Petra first now, and that’s how it should be. And Declan’s pouring his entire life into the place.”
Kevin nodded. “Good. That’s a solid place to start. Which doesn’t mean the panic will go away right away, but it means that you can turn right back on its heels after you ask Do I need to panic? No. Feeling uncomfortable is fine, but panic, go away.”
“Easier said than done,” Jake grumbled.
“Don’t I know it,” Kevin agreed. “That’s where the second question comes in.”
“Is it time for a beer?”
His friend laughed. “I don’t advocate for self-medicating with alcohol or drugs on a regular basis. No, the question for you is right up your alley because it’s action based.”
“Drinking beer is an action,” Jake complained.
“If you’d said whiskey, I’d be joining you.” Kevin finished the last of the coffee in his mug and smiled across the distance between them. “No, the second question is What should I do right now?”
Really? “You want the self-confessed excessive planner to make another list?”
Kevin shook his head. “Oh no, the exact opposite. When you get to feeling the way you don’t want, I’d like to propose an experiment. You have to find something to do for a short period of time that is absolutely not on your list.”
For fuck’s sake. That damn unfinished goal list in Jake’s journal was coming back to haunt him. “You’re saying my therapy is to be spontaneous?”
“Yeah, pretty much. Only for fifteen minutes if that’s all you can take.”
Jake collapsed back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. “This is a new form of hell.”
“You might be surprised.” Kevin grinned at him, rising to his feet. “Now let’s finish our therapy and deal with the window trim. Then we can honestly tell the others we had a productive morning.”
Jake washed both their cups and turned on some music. They spent the next two hours in a comfortable quiet, sanding trim and applying a final layer of varnish.
The place looked great when they stopped to admire their handiwork, and while Jake still wasn’t one hundred percent comfortable with the suggestion, Kevin’s idea had some merit.
It seemed the universe meant for him to learn some new lessons this year.
The first weeks of working at High Water had been thrilling but frantic.
Tansy had taken on what was essentially a full-time job, but she still had the food element of Buns and Roses café to coordinate. Even with the head baker/chef she’d hired for the café, it took until the middle of January for the woman to fall into a solid routine that meant Tansy only needed to come in once a week for a meeting and to double-check the current food order sheets.
Since she planned to do the food order for High Water then as well, timing for that part of the job balanced out nicely.
“Somebody complained that my cinnamon buns are nowhere near as good as yours,” Marina informed her as they met in the early morning on Thursday before the café doors were officially open. The woman had her salt-and-pepper hair tucked under a rainbow-hued headband. The smattering of freckles over her nose and her pale skin hinted that once upon a time she’d been a redhead. Now in her late fifties, she might’ve gone grey early, but she still moved with amazing speed in the kitchen. “I swear I followed your recipe to the letter.”
“Proof them under dishtowels instead of saran wrap,” Tansy suggested. “And if people complain after that, tell them we’re so sorry, and we’ll take them off the menu. I bet they shut up fast.”
Marina’s amusement was clear. “I can tell this isn’t your first rodeo.”
“Terrible cinnamon buns are better than no cinnamon buns at all, you know?” Tansy offered a wink then went through the rest of the questions Marina had from the week. When they were done, Tansy nodded her approval. “You’re doing a great job. How are you liking the apartment?”
Part of the enticement of getting a trained and experienced chef to move into the area had been to provide instant accommodations. Tansy wasn’t using the rooms anymore, so it had made sense.
“I think you’re being far too generous, but you can’t take it back now.” Marina sat back in her chair and sighed happily. “This is a little bit of a dream job for me. You have this place running like clockwork. You haven’t gone overboard with too wild and varied of a menu, and other than my inferior cinnamon bun skills, things have been going well. In fact, if you need me to take on any extra baking tasks, I’m ready.”
“That is really good news. I’m still okay right now, but over the next three weeks, we start to host events out at High Water.” The first people would arrive the next evening, and Tansy had excitement butterflies flipping in her stomach. “When we get to full production, having you deal with some of the breakfast items and baked treats will end up being a lifesaver.”
“Not a problem. You know as well as me it’s just as easy to cook twelve dozen as six dozen when you have the oven room. Which we do.” Marina got to her feet and brushed her hands down the front of her apron, smile brightening. “I need to get back to work before my boss catches me sitting on my butt.”
“Fate worse than death. I hear your boss is a real hard-ass,” Tansy teased.
She’d just slipped behind the wheel of her clunker when a text message from Sydney arrived.
Sydney: I truly hate updating qualifications.
Tansy: Let me guess. They’re making you sit through slideshow presentations instead of letting you simply take the test.
Sydney: Got it in one. What a freakin’ waste of my time. Anyway, I wanted to catch up with you. How’s the new job? I’m pissed off that I haven’t been around to come celebrate with you.
Tansy: I know you’re excited for me. You’ll be back in a couple weeks, and we’ll get our girls night on then. The job is working out fine. Jinx is a hoot, and you and I need to start planning a wild and woolly bachelorette party for Petra.
Sydney: It will be a night to remember. Okay, I need to hit the road or I will get the evil eye from the powers that be when I stroll into the lab late. Again—cough, cough. Time to pretend to be a productive member of adult society. Love you. Don’t poison anyone.
Tansy: Love you, too. I wouldn’t dream of it unless you were here to help hide the body.
The extra wiggle in the steering wheel and the very creaky brakes of ZenBaby faded to the background as a happy glow wrapped around Tansy on the ride back to the ranch.
Having good friends like Petra and Sydney at her back was amazing. Finding Marina had been a stroke of luck and a stroke of genius. Changing things up at Buns and Roses had been a bit of a risk, but her sister had been fully on board. Knowing that with Marina’s help it would work as they’d hoped was an amazing thing.
Which was why it was slightly disconcerting to feel a shot of dissatisfaction wash away her good mood when she bounced into the ranch house and discovered Jake sitting at the table by himself, glaring at his journal.
She’d noticed him withdrawing even more than usual over the past two weeks, and every time it seemed to be triggered by that damn journal and the letters hidden in the pages.
“If they’re being mean to you, you could throw them out,” Tansy suggested.
He barely moved. Just grunted and glared a little harder.
Whatever. She headed to the kitchen counter and dropped off the tray of inferior cinnamon buns Marina had made—such nonsense. She was sure they were delicious.
Then Tansy bustled around the kitchen and began prepping food for three meals at the same time.
Onions in the crockpot, onions in a pan on the stove to caramelize. Carrots diced into coins for the crockpot, made into sticks for a veggie platter, and grated and left in a bowl to be turned into carrot cake. She expertly disassembled four whole chickens. The breasts were added to the onions on the stove with a shot of stock and the lid put on top to simmer. The thighs were seared and added to the crockpot, and the rest of the bones placed on a cookie sheet and put into the oven to roast so she could pull the cooked meat off to make chicken salad sandwiches.
Every time she glanced at Jake she could’ve sworn he hadn’t moved an inch.
It must be exhausting being that grumpy, she decided.
She scrubbed her hands thoroughly then loaded a plate with the cinnamon buns and poured two cups of coffee.
When she sat down, he blinked as if surprised to find her there.
She shoved the plate with the cinnamon buns toward him. “You must be so hungry you’re going catatonic. Eat this. And drink.”
He sighed. “I might’ve had too much coffee already. But thanks for the cinnamon bun. How did your meeting with Marina go this morning at Buns and Roses?”
“Peachy. She’s fantastic, and I’m totally replaceable. Exactly what every boss wants, and I’m being serious.” Tansy took a big bite of the immense cinnamon roll and hummed happily. “Whoever complained about these was out of their goddamn minds.”
Jake took a halfhearted bite then nodded his approval. “They’re okay. Not as good as yours.”
Tansy snickered. Too funny.
But now was time to poke the bear. “Are you ever going to finish that New Year’s goal list?”
He slammed the cover shut on the mostly blank page he’d been staring at. “That was private.”
“I wasn’t reading over your shoulder. It was right out there in public,” Tansy pointed out.
He frowned down at the table and then at where she sat across from him. “You can read upside down?”
He was such an innocent. “I have many skills,” she offered with complete sincerity, not about to confess many of them were learned in her misspent and highly illegal childhood.
“I like setting goals,” Jake confessed slowly. “But it was recently suggested to me if I feel a little too regimented by all my planning, I should try something different.”
Ha. Tansy’s brain raced ahead to the final outcome of that situation. “Which means now you don’t know if you should make a goal list or if you shouldn’t.”
He grimaced. “Pretty much.”
“Well, indecision is worse than a bad decision in my books.” Tansy met his gaze straight on. “I’m pretty good at being spontaneous. Maybe I can help you with that.”
Jake muttered softly under his breath, and Tansy laughed. “Yes, I did read that upside down. I think it’s a good goal if you’re into that sort of thing.”
“I suppose you don’t set goals.” He said it as if she’d confessed to drinking dishwater.
“I set plenty of goals,” Tansy insisted. “I try to make them ones I can actively implement. Not things that are dependent on other people. You want to talk about the ultimate goal setter, though, that’s what my sister Fern does best. She’s been plotting and planning for years—I’m pretty sure you two would get along great.”
“We do. I mean, the few times we’ve done stuff together. Like preparing for this weekend and beyond. Since she works for Chance, she’s helping coordinate a lot of the retreat house details.”
“I knew you’d met, but I didn’t realize you’d had more interactions.” Tansy thought for a minute. “Let me help you be spontaneous. I haven’t seen my sister Rose since she and Chance got back from Ireland, and we’re getting together with the family tonight. Fern will also be there, and my sister Ivy and her family.”
A look of horror crossed his face. “I can’t drop in unannounced at a family gathering.”
Tansy snickered. “Trust me, until you’ve been to one of my family dinners, you have no idea what you’re dropping in on. It’d be good for you.”
“That might be a little too spontaneous for me to begin with,” he grumbled, and Tansy was once again reminded of trying to move a giant St. Bernard from where he’d settled for a nap.
“You’re not a hopeless case. You were spontaneous on New Year’s Eve,” she generously pointed out.
His jaw hung open as if shocked that she reminded him. His face went red with embarrassment, but he did maintain eye contact. “It was New Year’s Eve. Plus, it was only a kiss.”
“You should stick to that, then. Stealth kisses. I wouldn’t mind—you’re a great kisser.”
Dear God, she was going to die laughing. Silently, inside, because she didn’t want to embarrass him more than simply talking about the kiss was already doing.
Jake alternately opened and closed his mouth in a wonderful imitation of a fish, cheeks completely flushed. “I don’t think we should get involved. You’re working here, I’m working here. It’s not a good idea.”
“Who said anything about getting involved?” she asked in all seriousness. “I just said you’re a good kisser, and if you need to practice being spontaneous, I’m okay with it.”
He pushed back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “Yeah, no. Kisses lead to other things. I’m not comfortable going there with you.”
“Trust issues?”
“Yes,” he stated plainly.
Oh. “All righty. Enough said.” Consent was one of those good for the goose and good for the gander things. “Forget kissing. I still think you should come to dinner with me. The invitation stands.”
She rose from the table and headed to the stove, stirring and seasoning and adjusting temperatures. She grabbed three dozen eggs, put a dozen into a pot to boil then broke the others into the blender to make breakfast bites for anyone who wanted them later.
She twisted at high speed with her hands full of eggshells and smacked right into Jake. The double-handful of stickiness smashed against his rock-solid chest and shattered even farther. “Shit.”
He glanced down in annoyance at the broken shards adhering to his shirt, glued on with the remaining bits of egg white that had clung to the shell. A healthy dusting of shells lay at their feet as well—the perfect storm of kitchen disasters.
But his lips twitched slightly as he met her eyes. “Fine. Let’s be spontaneous. What time are we heading over to your parents?”