Page 40 of A Tempting Seduction (Protectors of Jasper Creek #5)

Chapter Twenty-Three

The Tennessee humidity wrapped around me like a wet blanket the moment we stepped off the plane at McGhee Tyson Airport. Seven in the morning, and I could already feel my hair starting to frizz. But after two days in Los Angeles, breathing in that familiar thick air felt like coming home.

Ford's hand found mine as we walked through the terminal, his fingers warm and steady despite everything we'd been through. I was exhausted but my body still buzzed with adrenaline, that strange, wired feeling you get when you're running on fumes but your brain won't shut down.

“You doing okay?” Ford asked, his voice rough with fatigue.

I nodded, not trusting my voice. The truth was, I didn't know how I was doing. The past forty-eight hours felt like a lifetime. Confronting Horace's corruption, seeing my sisters...

Candice's face kept flashing through my mind.

The way she'd looked at me in that sterile FBI conference room, like it was no big deal that she threw Dad to the wolves to get the life she wanted.

And Carla, still acting like I was somehow responsible for things going sideways because I chose to leave after seeing her and Lance together.

Ford squeezed my hand, pulling me back to the present. We'd made it to his truck and the familiar sight of that beat-up Ford F-150 with its dented tailgate and faded blue paint made my chest tight.

“Home sweet home,” Ford said, clicking the key fob.

He loaded our bags into the truck bed while I climbed into the passenger seat. The interior smelled like sawdust and coffee, with hints of Ford's soap lingering on the fabric. I closed my eyes and tried to let the familiar scents ground me.

Ford slid behind the wheel and started the engine. The radio immediately came on, some country station playing a song about heartache and home. He quickly switched it off, leaving us in blessed silence.

“You hungry?” he asked, backing out of the parking space.

I considered the question.

“I don't know if I could eat anything.”

Ford glanced over at me, concern creasing his forehead. “Ruby, you haven't had a real meal since that half a club sandwich the other night. You need to eat something.”

“I know. I just...” I trailed off, staring out the window at the Tennessee countryside rushing past. “My stomach feels like it's tied in knots.”

“Then we're stopping at the Down Home Diner.” Ford's tone brooked no argument. “Little Grandma will fix you right up.”

The thought of facing people, of having to smile and pretend everything was fine, made me want to crawl under a rock. But Ford was right. I needed food, even if I couldn't imagine keeping anything down.

Ford pointed the truck toward town square, and I watched familiar landmarks slide past. The old courthouse with its clock tower. The bronze statue of Jasper Creek's founder. The neat rows of businesses that formed the heart of our little town.

Our little town. When had I started thinking of Jasper Creek as home?

We pulled into a parking space in front of the Down Home Diner at exactly eight-thirty.

Ford was easily able to get a parking spot close to the diner.

Through the large front windows, I could see the morning crowd had thinned out, leaving several empty booths along the back wall.

They looked comfortable enough to sleep in.

And there, in her usual spot by the hostess stand, sat Little Grandma.

The cowbell above the door chimed our arrival, and Little Grandma's sharp gaze immediately found us. Her eyes widened slightly, taking in our rumpled clothes and exhausted faces.

“Lettie!” she called out, her voice surprisingly strong for someone her age. “Get these two a booth and bring them the full pull, start with biscuits and cinnamon rolls, lots of butter, hot coffee, milk, orange juice. Everything.”

She paused, studying us more closely. “I'll be right over.”

Lettie appeared from behind the counter, a woman in her fifties with kind eyes and graying brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. She'd inherited her grandmother's gift for reading people, and one look at us had her mothering instincts kicking into high gear.

“Y'all look like you've been rode hard and put up wet,” she said, leading us toward a corner booth. “When's the last time either of you had a decent meal?”

I tried to smile. “It's been a while.”

Ford slid into the booth beside me instead of across from me, and I was grateful for his solid presence. Lettie bustled away to get our food, leaving us alone for a moment.

“You sure you're okay?” Ford asked quietly.

I started to give him my automatic “I'm fine,” but the words stuck in my throat. I wasn't fine. I felt like someone had peeled all my skin off and left my nerve endings exposed to the air.

Before I could answer, Little Grandma appeared at our table. Despite her age, she moved with purpose, settling herself across from us with the confidence of someone who'd earned her place as the town's unofficial wisdom keeper.

“Well now,” she said, folding her hands on the table. “You two look like you've been through seven kinds of hell.”

Ford laughed, a tired sound. “Not me. I’m fine.” He put his arm around me and kissed my temple. “I’m worried about Ruby.”

Little Grandma's attention shifted to me, and I felt those ancient eyes cataloging every detail of my face. The unshed tears, the exhaustion, the agony I was trying so hard to keep contained.

“I can see your pain, child.” Her voice was gentle but matter of fact. “Tell me.”

The simple command broke something loose inside me. I felt my chin wobble, and Ford immediately handed me a couple of napkins from the dispenser.

“It's my sisters,” I managed, fighting for control. Only one or two tears escaped, but they felt like they carried the weight of everything I'd been holding back.

Ford squeezed my shoulders tighter, anchoring me. “Horace is going to be locked up for a long time,” he told Little Grandma. “There are likely to be more arrests of high-profile people involved in the corruption.”

Little Grandma nodded, but her attention stayed focused on me. “And you, child? What happened to cause you such heartache?”

The story poured out of me then. How Candice had known Horace back when she’d worked on his campaign in college, and then introduced Dad to Diane, knowing exactly what kind of family our father was marrying into.

How she'd pushed for the connection to Horace because it would advance her marriage prospects.

And Carla. God, Carla.

Carla was still trying to get me to believe that I was the bad guy for leaving, even though she was the one who’d been sleeping with Lance.

“She said Dad's death was just politics,” I whispered.

“She e-mailed me a couple of months ago.

She called sleeping with my fiancé a 'moment of weakness' and said I was being dramatic for leaving. She actually told me Lance was willing to forgive me for abandoning him. Two days ago, she said she was saving me.”

“She was gaslighting you, baby girl,” Little Grandma made a soft sound of sympathy. “How does that make you feel, honey?”

“Like my skin has been peeled from my body.” The words came out raw and honest. “How could Carla try to play with my head like that? It was almost evil. Then there’s Candice's betrayal.

.. I don't understand how someone who shares my blood can think only of herself like that. How could she not care about our father? How could she choose political advancement over our father?”

“Or you,” Little Grandma pointed out gently.

I looked up at her, startled by the simple truth of it. “Yeah. Or me.”

Little Grandma reached across the table and patted my hand. Her skin was paper-thin but warm, and there was something infinitely comforting about the gesture.

“You know, child, I've lived over a hundred years on this earth.

I've seen families torn apart by greed, by politics, by all manner of foolishness.

And I've learned something important.” She paused, making sure she had my full attention.

“Blood doesn't always make family. Sometimes the people who love you best are the ones you choose.”

I stared at her, feeling something shift inside my chest.

“Do you feel like you have sisters here in Jasper Creek?” Little Grandma asked.

“Maddie, so down to earth? Fallon, who calls to check on you? Fiona, who understands what you went through with Lance. Zoe who’ll push you past your fears and our dear Chloe, who is inviting you into your world?

What’s more, you do have blood family here.

Lots of it. My sister is your great-grandmother.

I’m your great-aunt. My daughter is your aunt, and you’ve got more cousins than you can shake a stick at.

Now that you don’t have to hide anymore, I say it’s high time for a proper family reunion. ”

“What’s this?” Ford was clearly stunned.

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. “I guess I might have left out a couple of things,” I sighed, then yawned.

“You’re not kidding. I think after we get some sleep, you have some ‘splaining to do.” He gave my waist a gentle pinch. I grinned up at him.

“Welcome to the family, Ford.” Little Grandma had a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, my eyes wide. “We’re not… He’s not…” My voice trailed off.

Ford's arm tightened around me, and I could feel his heart beating steady and strong against my side.

“Are you saying he doesn’t feel like family?” she asked quietly.

“No, I’m not saying that at all.” I snuggled closer to him, resting my tired head on his shoulder. “Not at all.”

“Then you're richer than most people ever get to be,” Little Grandma said firmly.

“You have a big family here by blood and you have something else just as special.

Maybe even more so. Found families, chosen families, communities that love you for who you are instead of what you can do for them.

.. that's the real treasure in this life.”

Lettie appeared with platters of food, setting down enough to feed a small army.

Fluffy buttermilk biscuits that steamed when she split them open.

Golden cinnamon rolls dripping with icing.

Crispy bacon and creamy scrambled eggs. A small plate in front of Little Grandma held just a single biscuit and a cup of tea.

“Now eat,” Little Grandma commanded. “You can't heal on an empty stomach.”

I started off slow, not sure if my stomach could handle food.

But as soon as I started eating some of the Down Home delicacies, I found I actually could eat.

The food was perfect comfort food, warm and filling and infused with the kind of love that only comes from someone who's spent decades feeding people.

I managed to put away half a cinnamon roll, a full biscuit with butter and homemade strawberry preserves, and most of the cheesy scrambled eggs.

But halfway through the meal, exhaustion hit me like a freight train. The combination of warm food, emotional release, and two days of running on adrenaline finally caught up with me. My eyelids grew heavy, and I found myself leaning more and more against Ford's solid shoulder.

“I think I need to get you home,” Ford said quietly, stroking my hair.

I nodded, already half-asleep. Ford stood and helped me out of the booth, keeping one arm around my waist to steady me.

“Thank you,” he said to Little Grandma, pulling out his wallet.

She waved him away. “Your money's no good here, son. Just take care of our girl.”

“I will.”

Little Grandma smiled, and something knowing sparkled in her ancient eyes. “I can see that. It's good to know Ruby's found a home with you, Ford Larson.”

Ford's cheeks went slightly pink, but he smiled back. “I'm the lucky one.”

I was too tired to be embarrassed by their conversation. All I could think about was my bed, or Ford’s bed. Actually, any bed with Ford's arms around me, and the amazing truth that I really had found a home here.

Not just with Ford, though that was definitely the biggest part of it. But with this whole community of people who'd chosen to love me. Who'd made space for me in their lives not because they had to, but because they wanted to.

Ford guided me toward the door, one hand on the small of my back. The morning sun felt warm on my face, and for the first time in days, my chest didn't feel like someone was sitting on it.

“Ready to go home?” Ford asked, opening the passenger door of his truck.

I looked back at the diner, where Little Grandma was already greeting the next customers with the same warmth she'd shown us.

Then I looked at Ford, at this man who'd flown across the country to protect me, who'd held me while I cried, who'd never once made me feel like my baggage was too heavy to carry.

“Yeah,” I said, letting him help me into the truck. “I'm ready to go home.”