Page 5

From the moment Kayleigh left her father’s house the next morning, she was craning her neck to check her rearview mirror, expecting to find Jasper or one of his men tailing her. Dad had said Jasper wouldn’t be around, but she wasn’t sure she could trust that.

The temptation to just go to her own house was strong. The thought of being followed around, never having any privacy, someone standing outside her door while she was sleeping...she couldn’t do it. Even for a few weeks. Tension pooled through her whole body at the thought.

That was one of the reasons she took so many photography jobs out of the country. There was still security involved, but never somebody assigned only to her , watching every move she made. Nobody who asked why she slept with a light on or sometimes had nightmares. Nobody to pry into her secrets.

The way she wanted it.

She was still a little jet-lagged. The shoot in Indonesia had been brutal on her body. Lots of waiting and holding still for long hours in difficult weather—including storms, which were never her favorite. She’d had to force herself to work through them despite the mental anguish they caused.

So she hoped Dad would keep his word and keep the security team at bay while she had her R and R. Might as well be at the tiny lake house nobody liked but her.

The farther she drove with no cars following, the more she relaxed. This close to the relatively barren section of Lake Ray Roberts, it would be impossible not to see a tail. Dad had kept his word.

She let out a little curse when she arrived at the cabin and saw another vehicle parked by the house. Damn it, Dad hadn’t kept his word. She gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles were white.

She was about to leave when she saw someone working over in the overgrown shrubbery, and relaxed a little. It wasn’t a guard; it was the gardener Dad had mentioned. He or she wouldn’t pay much attention to Kayleigh at all.

Then the gardener stood and twisted in the afternoon sun. A thrill shot through her.

Weston.

She’d been a little sad when they hadn’t been able to talk more before she’d left the main house, but definitely hadn’t expected to see him out there. As a matter of fact, now that she knew his last name—Patterson—she’d been considering calling him to see if he wanted to get together for coffee sometime.

Now she didn’t have to.

Weston straightened as soon as he saw her and walked toward the car. She gave him a little wave and smiled as she got out. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He shook his head. “You mean Leo didn’t tell you I took the job?”

“No. He told me that someone would be here, but didn’t mention it would be you.”

A few awkward seconds passed between them before he tilted his dark head to the side. “Is it okay with you that I’m here? Leo and I agreed this would be where I would be most effective. He thought I could stay at the gardener’s house, out of your way. But you have to be okay with it all.”

“Yes, absolutely.” Her smile became bigger. “I’m glad to see you. Believe me, my dad wanted me to go somewhere else, but that would’ve involved Jasper and his security goons following me around every second.”

He stood straighter and crossed his arms over his chest. “Ms. Delacruz.” His brows furrowed and voice became way...too serious. “I think having at least a dozen men assigned to your every step would be the best sort of security anyone could provide.”

His imitation of Jasper was spot-on and she laughed. “Weston Patterson, did you just make a joke?”

“I guess I did. Although, in my defense, Jasper is an easy target.” He gave her a smile that showed a tiny dimple at the corner of his mouth. “Can I help you bring your stuff in?”

“No, I don’t want to interrupt what you were doing. I can carry it in myself.”

“It’s no trouble. I’m just messing right now. Trying to come up with an overall plan. This place is a dream in terms of flora.”

She nodded. “Yeah. I love it here—the wild, natural beauty of it all.”

He took out her suitcase, and she grabbed the camera equipment she never went anywhere without and brought it into the house. Immediately she could see the kitchen had been well stocked.

“I wasn’t sure exactly what you liked,” Weston said. “So I got a little bit of everything. Leo paid for it, of course.”

She was a little surprised her father had told Weston she was coming at all. Probably had warned him to stay away from her. Dad could make things so awkward.

She turned to him, putting her camera down on the kitchen counter. “Listen, are you okay with me being here? I know we haven’t seen each other in, like, twenty years, so if it’s not okay, please let me know.”

He gave her an odd look. “I would have never taken the job if I wasn’t okay with being around you.”

She was making the situation even more awkward. Better to just leave it alone. “Great! Then would you mind terribly if I change clothes and come out to help with some of the gardening and landscaping?”

He smiled, that dimple coming out again. She found herself staring at it. “Absolutely. Leo gave me carte blanche to change and put in whatever I saw fit. That was a mistake.”

She laughed out loud, tearing her eyes away from his mouth. “Oh yeah, it was. Let’s show him how much.”

All the tension she’d been carrying was gone. Dad hadn’t gone behind her back and sent a guard. Instead, she’d have a long-lost friend to spend some time with.

A sexy long-lost friend.

She couldn’t think of anything better.

“T HIS ISN ’ T YOUR JOB , you know,” Weston said, looking over at Kayleigh, who was covered in dirt.

Again.

Nearly every minute for the past three days he’d been working with plants, she’d been out here with him, doing whatever needed to be done.

Not just the gardening stuff most people liked to do—putting seedlings in the ground or decorative trimming. She’d done the nonglamorous stuff too—carried and spread fertilizer, weeded, pruned larger trees and bushes—all over the property. Never once did she decide to go hang out at the dock or stay inside and watch TV.

Weston was convinced Leo Delacruz was flat-out incorrect when it came to judging his daughter. She’d been nothing but polite and wonderful to be around. She hadn’t tried to run off once, hadn’t told Weston to back out of her personal space. She’d been...normal. Helpful.

And sexy as hell in the dirt.

He’d told Leo as much—minus the sexy as hell part—every day when he’d reported in via phone call. Leo had been happy to hear it, since the threats against him had been escalating.

So far, there had been no sign of trouble here. Weston almost felt bad for how much Leo was paying him, since all he was really doing was working with the land and enjoying Kayleigh’s company.

“I know it’s not my job, but I love digging around in the dirt.” She beamed up at him from where she was kneeling in the soil. “And I do a lot more of it than you think as a nature photographer.”

He knew all about her career. Had for years. Probably more than was healthy, and definitely more than he planned to share with her. “I’m glad you found something you love to do.”

She looked back down at the blue flag iris she was planting. “I’m pretty sure my career can be traced back to that summer with you and Mr. Henry. It’s where my love for plants started, although the photography came later.”

“For me too. I’ll always be thankful for the time I had with Henry. Definitely started my love affair with plants.”

She let out a sigh, touching the bright purple flowers in front of her. “I think I like plants more than people sometimes. They can be so resilient even while some look so fragile.”

He couldn’t stop his smile. “I’d choose hands in the dirt than hanging out with people any day.”

They both worked in silence for a few minutes.

“I like being outside. Sometimes being inside is...”

He waited for her to finish, but she didn’t. He twisted to look at her around the shrub he was trimming. “Being inside is what?”

Her sigh was soft and a little heartbreaking. “Being inside is hard for me.”

“How so?”

She paused for so long, he didn’t think she was going to answer. She waited until she’d put the roots of the iris in the dirt and began covering them up before finally responding. “Being inside...sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe.”

“Like claustrophobia?”

“Yeah, but not exactly. Something happened when I was younger and...” She looked away. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

He left the shrub and walked over to her, pulling off his glove. He touched the smooth skin of her arm. “You don’t have to talk about it. I understand not wanting to talk about the past, believe me. Although I’m here if you want to.”

She squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

“Tell me about Indonesia then. That was your last photography assignment, right?”

She gave him a relieved smile and they both got back to work. For the next few hours, she talked about Asia, then another trip she’d made recently to Iceland, and some others in America. He knew about a lot of them, but wasn’t going to tell her that—what would she think if she could see the scrapbook he’d made of the photoshoots she’d done? He’d tracked her career for years from afar, never dreaming she would remember him at all.

She was talking about her Iceland trip and nature’s resilience as evidenced by the plants she was shooting, growing in hardened lava, when she stopped suddenly.

“What?” he asked. Her insights had been intriguing, her passion obvious. Nothing about what she’d been saying had suggested it was difficult for her to talk about. “Is this hard to talk about too?”

She let out a wry laugh. “No, not at all. I stopped because this can’t be interesting for you. I’ve been talking nonstop for hours. Aren’t you bored?”

“Absolutely not. You were talking about tillandsia and its remarkable ability to grow under the harshest of circumstances. How can that not be interesting?”

Of course, he was pretty sure she could read the phone book and it would be interesting.

She shook her head, sitting back in the dirt, grabbing a sip of water from the bottle. “It’s just like when we were kids. I’m doing all the talking. You can’t get a word in edgewise. It must be frustrating.”

The opposite. Her voice, her words, were soothing to him. “I like to listen. I’ve always liked to listen more than talk.” Especially to her.

“Are you sure?”

“Believe me, yes.” He’d be willing to listen to her voice all day every day. It eased something in him. Always had.

But he did his best to try to talk more the rest of the afternoon. Asked questions, interjected comments and even told a few brief stories of his own. He was about to call it quits for the day, so they could go put together dinner like they had for the past three nights, when a sudden storm blew up on them.

The rain covered like a blanket, soaking them within just a few seconds. Laughing, Weston grabbed their tools, and they ran for the gardener’s cabin. Thunder shuddered in the air around them and the evening sky turned much darker.

“I am soaked!” He lined up the tools in their proper place as he shook his head, flinging water everywhere. “That was better than a shower.”

His smile faded as he turned toward Kayleigh. She definitely wasn’t laughing. She was pale, her arms wrapped around her middle, blinking rapidly at the sound of the rain beating on the overhang above them.

He cupped her shoulder as gently as he could. “Hey, are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

Another bolt of thunder. A huge flinch from her. “No. I...no.” But her voice was barely more than a whisper.

He cupped her other shoulder, rubbing his fingers over her tense muscles gently. “How can I help?”

“You can’t. I’m fine. I...” She pulled back and he dropped his hands. “I’m fine. But you know, I don’t think I’m up for dinner. I’m going to make a sandwich and go on to bed.”

“Kayleigh...”

Thunder crashed and she jerked, tendons standing out on her neck. “I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Without another word, she dashed the short distance over to her cabin and went inside.

Weston didn’t know exactly what had just happened, but he knew for sure things were not all right.