Daring Desire: Cowboy Justice Association (Serials and Stalkers Book 6) Read online

  “It’s fine,” he assured them. They of all people understood the issues that he had with his parents. “I’m only going to be here less than a week, and I won’t be home all that much.”

  “You always have a place here,” Earl said. “No matter what.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that, but I’ll be fine.”

  It was only a week with his family. He’d survived longer. It wouldn’t be fun, but it wouldn’t be forever.

  He’d long ago stopped expecting anything from his mother and father.

  2

  Later that afternoon, Paige visited her parents. She did this almost every single day so she could spend time with her mother and her dad could get a break. They’d told her that they were doing fine and that she didn’t need to move back, but Paige had seen that her mother’s illness was taking its toll on her father. The chemo made Maggie Stevens sick and exhausted. Peter Stevens was trying to care for her all on his own plus making the drive once a week into the city for her treatments. He was in good health, but neither of them was getting any younger.

  They hadn’t been able to hide their joy, however, when she’d purchased a house in Oxford. They were thrilled that she was going to be close after spending the last fifteen years in New England.

  Then they’d found out the house she’d purchased was the old Milford place. They’d almost fainted at the news. Not because they thought it was haunted, although her mother could be a bit superstitious. They’d been upset because they thought it was a huge money pit.

  Paige didn’t disagree with that assessment. It was going to cost quite a bit to have the house renovated, but she’d gotten such an amazing deal on the house and land that she couldn’t pass it up. Add in the house’s history, and she’d wanted it. She couldn’t wait to steep herself in the home’s violent past and start writing her new book.

  “I saw Jackson Kenner today,” she told them as they sat on the patio and sipped iced tea. There was a plate of chocolate chip cookies that Paige had made the day before. “He was visiting his grandparents.”

  Kate and Earl Kenner were the loveliest people. She’d grown quite fond of them since she’d moved in next door eight weeks ago.

  “I’m sure he’s here for the reunion,” Maggie said. “You should go, too. It might be fun to see everyone again.”

  Bless Maggie Stevens, she was an eternal optimist. The sky was always blue in her world without a cloud in sight.

  “Mom, I despised high school. Why on earth would I willingly go back? Even for one night? Those kids hated me.”

  She didn’t say out loud that she’d hated them because, to be honest, she wasn’t sure exactly how she did feel. Certainly, when she’d been in the midst of it all she’d hated them, even when her parents said that she should feel sorry for them. Those kids walked in lockstep with one another, terrified to step out of line and be themselves. According to her parents, that was a state to be pitied.

  She might have had more sympathy for them if they hadn’t been absolutely awful to her. When they couldn’t get a reaction by being openly cruel, they’d instead simply cut her out, pretending that she didn’t exist. For a teenager, the latter was just as horrible as the former. In a way, it was worse. At least when they’d teased her about her hair or clothes, they were acknowledging that she was alive and on this planet.

  “All the more reason to go,” Peter said with a laugh. “Rub their faces in your success. Show them that you didn’t need them back then, and you don’t need them now.”

  “Peter,” her mother replied in a scolding tone. “I can’t believe you even suggested that Paige be that petty. They were stupid kids who were probably terrified of their own shadows, afraid to be who they really were. Paige’s ability to express herself was probably quite scary to them.”

  Her father leaned forward, his gaze intent on his wife.

  “You know how they were to her. You don’t think they deserve just a moment to feel like maybe they should have been nicer? Just a moment of that? I’m not suggesting that she actually tell them how successful she is or how much money she has, far from it. I’m just saying that being there would let them know that they didn’t win. Then or now.”

  Her mother shifted uncomfortably in her chair, a sigh escaping from her lips.

  “Well…I have to admit that there’s a few of them I wouldn’t mind feeling like crap. But not all of them. Wasn’t Jackson nice in school?”

  “Yes, he was. And you’re right. Not everyone was mean to me. But I’m not friends with any of them now. If I went, I’d just sit in the corner by myself and I can do that at home, and I don’t have to shave my legs.”

  “You might make a few friends if you go,” her mother suggested gently. “You’re back in town now and it might be good to have someone to do things with.”

  “I have made a few friends already. Kate and Earl, remember?”

  “I think your mother meant someone closer to your own age,” her father chuckled. “Although Kate and Earl are great people.”

  “Age is just a number,” Paige said. “And maybe I’ll make a few friends, but I’m still not planning to go to the reunion.”

  That party was going to have to go on without her presence. She had better things to do than spend hours with people who were basically strangers.

  And what she did know about them? It wasn’t good.

  She drained her glass and set in on the small table beside her chair.

  “I’m going to head out to the house. Check out the work they’re doing today. The new kitchen appliances and cabinets were supposed to show up this morning, and there’s a rumor that I might get water and electricity by tomorrow. If that’s the case, then I can move out of the apartment sooner than I’d originally planned.”

  “You can’t stay there.” Maggie sounded scandalized, her eyes round and her mouth hanging open. “It’s bad enough that you rented that apartment and didn’t move back in with us, but you can’t live there. That house might fall down around your ears.”

  “I rented that apartment because I work at all hours of the day and night, and I didn’t want to disturb you,” Paige explained. They’d had this discussion previously, but her parents said that they didn’t care if she was up at two in the morning. But they totally would. They’d be worried about her if she forgot to eat while she was writing or if she didn’t shower for a day or two. “Trust me, you don’t want to be around me when I have writer’s block. I’m not easy to live with.”

  “We’re your parents. We love you no matter what,” Peter said. “Grouchy or happy.”

  They did love her, and she loved them. She was lucky to have these amazing people as parents. They’d raised her to go after what she wanted and to always be true to herself. It had served her well in adulthood.

  “I know and I love you, too. But it’s better that I have my own space. As for moving to the house, I can’t wait to immerse myself in the history of the home. It will be easier if I’m there. They’ve already done all the structural work, Mom, so the house will stay standing. I promise.”

  She’d spent a pretty penny making sure of that, too. She wouldn’t be buying any expensive shoes or handbags for awhile.

  “It’s so rundown, though,” Maddie said. “It needs so much work.”

  “And that’s another reason to stay there. I can be closer to the work getting done and be able to monitor what’s happening. Seriously, it’s going to be fine. Once the kitchen is finished, I’ll invite you both over for dinner.”

  There would be a wing of the house just for her parents when they were older and couldn’t live on their own any longer. Paige didn’t dare bring it up now. Her mother and father were far too independent - she took after them that way - and they’d never move in. But down the road? Who knows what they might agree to.

  “I have to admit, the old photos of that house really were something,” Maggie said. “And there’s a great deal of land. It will be very private.”

  “Which will be great
when I’m working. Nice and quiet. Just how I like it.”

  “The neighborhood kids are going to have to find a different haunted house,” Peter joked. “All of the hammering and sawing is going to drive off any spirits that might be hanging around.”

  “That’s the plan, Dad.”

  Paige didn’t believe in ghosts. In her experience, it was the living that usually caused all of the trouble.

  Duffle bag in hand, Jack reached up to knock on the door but hesitated, for a moment thinking about actually sleeping on his grandparents’ loveseat. Or his car. Unless he wanted to spend a week in traction afterwards, it wasn’t a good plan.

  So he knocked on the door.

  He heard a shuffling sound on the other side and then it opened, revealing his younger brother Dylan who was grinning widely.

  “Come on in, Big Bro,” he said, grasping Jack’s arm and pulling him across the threshold. “Why did you knock? We left it unlocked for you.”

  Jack had knocked because it hadn’t felt right to just walk in. Despite Dylan’s exuberant welcome, Jack hadn’t always felt comfortable in this house.

  “I’ll crack open a couple of beers,” Dylan said. “You can tell me all about the latest killer you’ve caught.”

  Jack allowed himself to be led into the kitchen after dropping off his bag in the foyer. Dylan pulled out two bottles of beer from the refrigerator and they sat down at the table where they’d eaten so many breakfasts when they were growing up.

  Mostly cereal and milk, but every now and then pancakes and sausage. Always cranberry juice, though. They weren’t fond of orange.

  The house looked the same as it had when Jack had lived here. The living room was mostly beige with splashes of gold. Even the throw pillows were the same. The kitchen was painted a bright yellow with gingham curtains on the window that overlooked the backyard. Even the coffeemaker on the counter looked the same.

  It was like being sent back in time. Not in a happy way. He’d sworn long ago that he’d never set foot back here again.

  And here he was.

  “So tell me about what you’ve been doing,” Dylan pressed, taking a drink from the bottle. “I want to hear every detail. It’s been too long.”

  It had been a long time. For Jack, it was easier to have a relationship with his family from a distance.

  Before he could answer his mother walked into the kitchen, a disapproving expression on her face that he knew all too well.

  “Why on earth would you want to hear about dead bodies and murder?” she asked with a huff. “I don’t want to hear about that. Gruesome.”

  “Hello to you, too, Mom,” Jack said with a wry smile. It wasn’t just the house that hadn’t changed. “Where’s Dad?”

  “In his office,” she replied, gazing down at the beer bottles in their hands and scowling. “You’re drinking? It’s not even dinnertime. Jack, don’t be a bad influence on your little brother. Is this what you do in the big city you live in? Drink all day?”

  Dylan was thirty-one years old, and Jack was sure that at this point he didn’t have much sway over his brother’s behavior. But that didn’t matter to Jane Kenner. Dylan was always blameless, and Jack was the troublemaker.

  “Hey, it was my idea,” Dylan said. “I said we should have a couple of beers. It won’t hurt anything, Mom. We’re grown men.”

  “Don’t try and cover for your brother,” Jane said. “I’ve never seen you have a beer this early in the day before now.”

  “Maybe because I didn’t have a good reason,” Dylan mumbled under his breath.

  “What’s going on in here? Why is it so noisy?”

  Their dad. Martin Kenner, attorney at law. He had an office at the back of the house with a separate entrance, and he didn’t like noise. Dylan had also become a lawyer and worked with their father. Jack, of course, had gone into law enforcement and was a disappointment to his parents.

  “They’re drinking beer,” Jane replied, her hands on her hips. “Jack’s been here all of ten minutes and they’re getting drunk.”

  “We are not getting drunk,” Dylan protested. “We’re just having a friendly beer. It’s not a big deal.”

  As usual, Martin Kenner didn’t say anything. He didn’t talk much except to his clients. Instead, he turned around and marched back to his office, leaving the parenting - or whatever this was since they were all adults now - to his wife.

  Yep, nothing had changed.

  “I guess this is just how it’s going to be this week,” Jane said with a heavy sigh. “Booze in the afternoon, and then God knows what.”

  If he hadn’t thought it would cause a ruckus with his family, Jack would have simply left the house, picking up his bag on the way out to find a hotel in a nearby town.

  But he didn’t do that.

  His mother drifted into another part of the house leaving the two of them alone again. Dylan’s cheeks were slightly red as if embarrassed by the whole episode. For Jack, he hadn’t expected anything different.

  “Shit, I didn’t mean for any of that to happen,” his brother said, taking another draw from his beer. “I just wanted to sit down and catch up with you. It’s been forever since we’ve done that.”

  Jack couldn’t remember a time when they’d done that. He and his brother had always been friendly, and they didn’t argue or anything, but he wouldn’t have described them as close. Or chummy. They didn’t confide in one another or talk all the time.

  “Shit, my life isn’t all that interesting,” Jack said. “What’s going on in your life? Dad keeping you busy at work?”

  Because it was almost four in the afternoon on a Friday, and Dylan wasn’t in the office working. He was sitting here at the kitchen table drinking beer. Jack was pretty sure that didn’t happen often.

  Dylan leaned forward, another huge grin on his face.

  “Promise you won’t tell Mom and Dad?”

  Jack didn’t confide in his parents either. Not for years.

  “Promise. What’s going on?”

  “I’m going to join a Chicago law firm,” his brother said proudly, excitement clear on his face. “I met up with a buddy that I went to law school with not long ago. He’s started his own firm and he’s asked me to join. Family law, which is what I’m passionate about. I start next month.”

  Whoa. This was…big news. Dylan was leaving Oxford? And their parents? Specifically, Jane Kenner? His mother was going to have a cow when she found out. She’d been upset when he’d moved out of the house after law school.

  “Mom and Dad don’t know? At all?”

  Dylan shook his head.

  “Nope, although I think Dad might suspect. He’s been trying to give me some new cases, and I’ve been making up excuses as to why I can’t take them. He wasn’t happy this morning when I told him I was going to take the afternoon off today so that I could spend some time with you. He didn’t say anything, but you know how he gets.”

  Jack was familiar with the scowling and deep frowns. Martin usually didn’t express much emotion, however, unless it was annoyance. There was plenty of that.

  “You kind of have to tell them soon,” Jack replied. “Next month isn’t that far away. And what about your condo? Are you going to sell it?”

  “I was thinking about renting it out maybe. The market isn’t that great right now to sell, and I’m going to be renting up in Chicago for awhile. At least until I get my bearings. John helped me find a place and I’m going to sign the lease on Thursday.”

  “Mom is going to flip out.”

  The words just seemed to tumble out of Jack’s mouth. He hadn’t consciously wanted to say them.

  Dylan groaned and rolled his eyes before finishing off the last of his beer.

  “I know. That’s why I’m so glad you’re here. I was hoping you’d help me tell them. You didn’t have any problems when you left.”

  Because Mom didn’t care if I left.

  “I’m not sure that I can help you,” Jack replied, keeping his tone even. H
e didn’t want any part of this in actuality. It was going to be a shitshow. “This is something that you need to handle on your own, I think.”

  In Jack’s opinion, Dylan was a thirty-one year old man who was old enough to own a home and move to a different city for his career. That meant that he was also old enough to man up and tell mommy that he was leaving.

  “I just want you there for moral support,” Dylan protested. “I’m not asking that you tell them for me. Just stand beside me when I do it.”

  Jack rubbed at his temple where a headache was beginning to make itself known. He loved his brother, but sometimes Dylan could be a trifle self-involved. Jack had never pointed it out, but perhaps it was time for a little tough love with his brother.

  “Let me ask you a question. If I’m standing next to you when you tell them, who do you think they’re going to blame? Me? Or you?”

  Dylan’s gaze went to the floor, not looking Jack in the eyes.

  “You,” his brother said softly. “They’ll blame you. But I swear that wasn’t what I was thinking when I asked. I just wanted some support when I do it. That’s all. I don’t want them to blame you for this.”

  Dylan raised his gaze, his expression tortured.

  “I want to be more like you,” he said. “I want to be more independent.”

  When Jack had arrived today this was the last conversation he thought he’d be having. Dylan had never seemed to have any issues with being the Golden Child. The Favorite. He seemed to enjoy it for the most part, and when they were kids he’d even reveled in it, rubbing it in Jack’s face that he was clearly loved more. Later when they were teenagers, Dylan had stopped doing that, but he still liked being the center of Jane Kenner’s world.

  “Then be more independent. Just do it. You don’t need mine or anyone else’s permission to live as your own man.”