Page 1 of A Tempting Seduction (Protectors of Jasper Creek #5)

TWO YEARS AGO.

The threadbare chair in room twelve of the LeeHy Motel creaked every time I shifted my weight.

Three o'clock in the afternoon, and I sat staring at the water stain on the popcorn ceiling, fighting back tears.

There was a brown stain that reminded me of a creepy clown that had given me nightmares when I was five years old.

I pressed my palms against my eyes and took a shaky breath. This wasn't how things were supposed to go.

The plan had been simple. Drive to Jasper Creek, Tennessee. Find my mother's parents, Susan and Daniel Miller. Throw myself on their mercy and beg for help while I figured out what to do next.

Except Susan and Daniel Miller were buried in the Jasper Creek Cemetery under matching headstones that read “Beloved Parents and Grandparents.” The dates told me they'd died six years ago, within three months of each other.

Six years too late for me.

When I'd left Los Angeles five days ago, I'd had ten thousand dollars in cash, legitimate documents that would let me live as Ruby Miller instead of Ruby Banks, and Dad's final words echoing in my head, “If anything happens to me, go to Jasper Creek.”

Now I had maybe thirteen hundred dollars left, a car that made worrying noises, and absolutely nowhere to go.

I couldn't go back. Dad was dead… killed by my stepmother's father, that evil bastard Horace Waters.

Going back meant ending up just as dead, or worse—married to Lance Leeds and trapped in a life that would slowly destroy whatever was left of my soul.

I grabbed my purse and headed for the door. Sitting here wouldn't solve anything.

Pearl's Restaurant looked like it had been there since the 1950s. A bell chimed when I pushed through the front door, and the smell of fried food hit me like a warm hug.

A woman with orange hair teased into a beehive looked up from behind the cash register. “Afternoon, honey. Just yourself?”

I nodded.

“Seat yourself,” she said waving to tables and booths on the far side of the restaurant.

I chose a booth by the window and settled in with the ancient phone book the motel kid had given me. I flipped to the M section. Michaels, Miles ...

Miller, Rose. My mom’s sister. Right there, clear as day.

My heart jumped. This Rose Miller might be my aunt. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed, holding my breath.

“The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

The tears I'd been holding back all day finally spilled over. I put my head in my hands and let them come.

“Honey, what's wrong?”

I looked up to find the same waitress standing beside my booth, her face creased with concern.

I opened my mouth to talk about my aunt, then realized I couldn’t, not if I wanted to hide my identity. “I was trying to find an old friend of my mother's. Rose Miller. But the number's disconnected.”

Her face brightened. “Rose Miller? Well, of course I know Rose. She moved to Denver about eight years ago. But you should talk to Rose's grandma. Miss Gladiola. She might help you get in touch with Rose.”

Hope flickered in my chest. “Gladiola?”

“Gladiola Dubois-Miller. Sweetest woman you'll ever meet. She lives with her sister on Elm Street. Let me give her a call.”

Five minutes later, I had an address and directions to a little yellow house with a big garden.

The yellow house on Elm Street looked like something from a fairy tale, every inch of the front yard bursting with flowers in so many colors that it made my chest ache.

I sat in my car for a full minute, suddenly conscious of how I must look. Five days of cheap motels and truck stop bathrooms had left me feeling grimy and desperate. My jeans hadn't been washed in over a week, and my sweater smelled like fear and exhaustion.

But I didn't have anywhere else to go.

I walked up the stone path and knocked. Footsteps approached, and then the door swung open to reveal a tiny woman with silver hair… and green eyes that I saw every day in the mirror.

“Oh my stars,” the old woman breathed, pressing a hand to her chest. “That hair looks like Dubois hair. And those eyes… Honey, you're the spitting image of my granddaughter.”

“Rose?” I whispered.

“No, honey. Rose is blonde. Edith was my redhead. You must be one of Edith's daughters.”

“I'm Ruby.” That's when I completely lost it. Five days of fear and exhaustion came pouring out in great, gasping sobs.

“Oh, sweetheart.” She wrapped her arms around me. “Come inside, baby. Come inside right now.”

Another woman, even tinier than the first, appeared from the kitchen.

“Esperance, look who's here,” the first woman said. “This is Edith's daughter, my great-grandbaby.”

They settled me on a floral couch. “I'm Gladiola Dubois-Miller, but you can call me grandmama or Miss Gladiola like everyone else. This is my sister Esperance, but everybody calls her Little Grandma.”

“Little Grandma?” I hiccupped through my tears.

“Long story,” Little Grandma said with a grin. “But what matters right now is you, sweetheart. What brings you all the way to Jasper Creek?”

“Wait here,” Miss Gladiola said before I could answer.

She stood up and disappeared into another room, returning with a shoebox tied with a faded blue ribbon.

“Your mother wrote to my daughter Susan for years, after she moved to California. When Susan passed…” Gladiola paused and sniffed.

I reached out and patted her hand. “When Susan passed, I saved these letters, and Esperance and I read through every one of them.

Of course by then we knew that your mama had passed as well.

We also realized that your daddy didn't really want anyone from our side of the family to get in contact, so we kept our distance.”

My hands shook as I accepted the box with awe.

“You must have been just a baby when Edith passed,” Gladiola whispered.

“I was eleven.”

“And your sisters?”

“They were twenty and twenty-four.”

“How did you fare with just your daddy?” Little Grandma asked.

“Things were good for a while. But he remarried when I was thirteen.” I told them everything.

About Lance and the engagement I'd never wanted.

About finding him in bed with Carla. About Dad's warnings and his sudden death. About the long drive from California with nothing but cash, the crappy car I’d purchased, and the tiniest flicker of hope.

When I finished, both women sat in silence.

“Well,” Miss Gladiola said finally, “it sounds like you need a fresh start.”

“More than that,” Little Grandma said, her blue eyes sharp with intelligence. “She needs to disappear completely. Ruby Banks needs to cease to exist.”

“Dad already gave me identification to become Ruby Miller,” I said.

“That's a start, but it's not enough.” Little Grandma stood up and began pacing. “You need a life here. A job, friends, a reason for being in Jasper Creek.”

“But I don't know anything about small town life. And I only have thirteen hundred dollars left.”

“You'll learn,” Miss Gladiola said firmly. “Won't she, Esperance?”

Little Grandma fixed me with a look that reminded me of a general planning a military campaign. “Here's what we're going to do. We’re going to say that your mama was a friend of Gladdy's granddaughter Rose.”

“Why yes, Esperance, that’s a grand idea. An old friend of the family is as good as family around these parts. Then we’ll say you've been living in Los Angeles, working in the restaurant industry,” Miss Gladiola jumped in. “You got tired of the big city and decided to come back to your roots.”

“I did work in my friend’s family restaurant for a while.” I perked up.

“Perfect. Java Jolt just lost their assistant manager last week,” Little Grandma added with satisfaction. “Ruby Miller with restaurant experience would be exactly what they need.”

“Shouldn’t she go to work with you at the Down Home Diner?” Miss Gladiola asked.

“That’s too close of a connection,” Little Grandma said decisively. “Java Jolt will be perfect.”

My head spun with the speed of their planning. “You're willing to do this? To lie for someone you barely know?”

Little Grandma sat back down and took my hands in hers. Her skin was papery soft and warm, but her eyes were fierce and determined.

“Honey, family takes care of family. You're Gladdy's great-granddaughter, and you're my great-grand-niece. Family doesn't ask family to face monsters alone.”

“Besides,” Miss Gladiola added with a grin, “this town could use some excitement. It's been too quiet around here lately.”

I felt the tiny spark of hope I’d carried in my chest all the way from California begin to grow. But, I was still in danger.

“What if they find me here?”

“Then they'll have to go through us first,” Little Grandma said. “And honey, I've been protecting people in this town for over a century. I'm not about to stop now.”

“A century?”

Miss Gladiola laughed. “Esperance is one hundred and three years old. She's the unofficial matriarch of Jasper Creek. Cross her, and you'll have the entire town to deal with.”

I sat back against the floral cushions, overwhelmed by the kindness of these strangers who had only met me hours ago. They were offering me a new life, a new identity, a chance to become someone other than the broken girl who'd fled California in the middle of the night.

“What do I need to do?”

Little Grandma smiled, and for the first time in days, I smiled back.

“First, we're going to get you cleaned up and fed properly. Then we're going to introduce you to some people. By tomorrow morning, Ruby Miller is going to be a permanent resident of Jasper Creek, Tennessee.”

She stood up and headed toward what I assumed was the kitchen.

“And Ruby? Welcome home.”

I sat in that flower-scented living room, holding a box of my mom’s letters, and felt something I thought I'd lost forever when Dad died.

I felt safe.

Outside, the sun was setting over Jasper Creek, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink. Somewhere out there, Lance Leeds and Horace Waters were probably still looking for me. But for the first time since I'd fled Los Angeles, I wasn't looking over my shoulder.

I was home.