Quinn yanked his leather glove off to rub his chin. “What about Melanie?”
Jake snorted. “Dumbass here hasn’t figured out Mel’s a girl.”
Colton tossed the post digger onto the truck bed. “Mel’s been my best friend since kindergarten. Of course, I know she’s a girl.”
“And?” Quinn asked.
“And nothin’.” Colton jumped to sit on the tailgate. “We’re friends. She’s dating some banker from Missoula. The guy wears three-piece suits. Three piece.” He shook his head.
Colt was a moron when it came to women. But, on the other hand, the place he wanted to build would be perfect for a ranch house. When their mom had married Tom, they’d had Colt and Dawn. When the Lodge boys were old enough to make the decision on their own, they’d combined the Lodge and Freeze acres into one sprawling ranch they all worked. Any profits were split evenly. His father had been dead for many years, but Quinn was sure he’d be pleased with how things had turned out. “How is Melanie’s grandpop doing?”
Colton shook his head. “Not good. The doctors say he’s terminal.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Quinn ripped off his hat to wipe his forehead.
Jake reached for a thermos and poured coffee for all three of them. “Somehow we got off the subject of Casanova here and Juliet Montgomery.”
“We’re finished with that subject.” Quinn took a deep drink of the unloaded brew and grimaced. Another seven months until Sophie’s baby was born, damn it. Jake had switched them all to decaf because he was too lazy to make two pots.
“I know why you either leave or kick a woman out of your bed, Quinn,” Jake said quietly.
Of course he knew why. They’d gotten drunk, really drunk, about two years ago and told each other everything they’d seen, everything they’d done, while in service for their country. Then they’d never spoken about it again, which worked just fine for Quinn.
“So do I,” Colton murmured.
Quinn narrowed his focus on his brother. “You don’t.”
Colt shrugged. “I may not know the details, but I know you’ve struggled with PTSD. That’s the only thing that would make you kick Juliet Montgomery out of your bed. Period.”
Sometimes Quinn forgot his youngest brother was a freakin’ genius. Smart as hell, and nothing got past him. “You don’t understand.”
“I’m not pretending to understand. But, I also know you’d err on the side of caution so as not to hurt somebody, when really you should be taking a chance. That woman is worth the risk.” Colton took a gulp.
Jake staggered back. “Did you just get relationship advice from numb-nuts here?”
Colton laughed and jumped from the truck. “I may be younger, and I may not have fought overseas, but you know what? I’m right.”
…
Juliet brushed her hair, satisfied with her sparkling-clean apartment. The tiny, three-room apartment above the gallery was both quaint and easy to maneuver. She tried not to wriggle on the seat of the vanity in her bedroom.
Her rear end hurt. Mainly from the darn horse ride, but her hips showed slight bruises from the sheriff’s grasp.
The thought brought a smile to her face. The man was passionate and explosive, and he’d stopped treating her like glass. Thank goodness.
The phone rang, and her fingers trembled before she answered. Was the sheriff calling?
A throat cleared. “Um, Juliet?”
She exhaled. “Hi, Sophie. What’s up?”
“Um, well, don’t freak out, okay?” Sophie said.
Juliet’s blood pressure rose. “Okay.”
“The good news is that the Western Pacific Art Council is sending dignitaries to the art showing, and if they like the paintings, they’ll give us a grant for the gallery,” Sophie said, her words rushing together.
Hope bloomed in Juliet’s chest. “That’s amazing. How did you—”
“The bad news is I told them we could have the showing Saturday in order to meet the deadline for the grant process,” Sophie interrupted.
Panic cut off Juliet’s breath. She wheezed out. “Saturday is in three days.”
“I know, but I’ve finished all the paintings, and even the charcoals are ready to be hung. We can do this. I promise,” Sophie said.
That was crazy. But a grant from the WPAC would guarantee the gallery remained open, even if Juliet had to leave. Sadness compressed her lungs—she thought she’d have more time with Quinn. She sucked in air, sprinkled with courage. “Okay. We can do it.”
Sophie’s happy squeal ripped through the line, and Juliet held the receiver away from her ear. “We need to get to work.”
“After the trail ride today, I promise we’ll come help you hang the art. We can also send out an e-mail blast and make some flyers for town,” Sophie said.
Juliet shook her head, even though nobody could see. “I’m not riding today.”
“I know. Quinn asked me to pick you up, and we’re on our way now. His mom and I are driving up to the lodge for the picnic. Wasn’t that sweet of him?”
“Humph.” Yes, it was sweet to get her a ride, and now she could relax. But she was still uncomfortable about the sheriff. “I’ll be outside in a few minutes.” After saying good-bye and hanging up the phone, Juliet finished with her makeup. She couldn’t leave town until after the showing, but a few days wouldn’t make a difference.
The phone rang again, and she rolled her eyes. What bombshell would Sophie ring down now?
“Hello?” Juliet chuckled.
Silence.
“Hello? Sophie?”
More silence. Then something shuffled. Somebody breathed. Heavy and somehow ominous.
Juliet cleared her throat. “If this is Tommy Nelcome, your mother told you to stop making prank calls. I’m calling her right now.”
The caller hung up.
Okay. That was just a kid. Nothing to worry about. Though he’d been calling a lot lately. Juliet dialed her neighbor, Judy Nelcome, to rat out Tommy. Unfortunately, Judy reported that Tommy was visiting his grandparents in Oregon, and they’d gone to the ocean for the day. So the caller wasn’t Tommy.
Juliet hung up and took several deep breaths. Just because the caller wasn’t Tommy didn’t mean another kid wasn’t goofing off. She’d been careful, and she was safe. Her family couldn’t find her. An illogical and disastrous need filled her to call the sheriff and ask for help.
It was just a prank call, for goodness’ sake. Yet another prank call.
She yanked on cowboy boots, pleased they matched her long skirt. Since she wasn’t riding a raging beast, she didn’t need to change. After adding several pieces of silver Celtic jewelry, she whipped through the apartment, grabbed her purse and coat, and headed down to the gallery. Tucking her arms in the sleeves, she stepped outside the main door, making sure to secure the locks.
A chilly wind scattered leaves down the quiet street. Their rustling scraped against crumbling asphalt.
The hair on the back of her neck prickled. She glanced at the still storefronts. Her breath burst out in pants. There was nobody there. Her mind was playing tricks on her from a silly prank phone call. An SUV turned the corner, and she sighed in relief at Sophie in the driver’s seat, her blond hair up in a ponytail.
Loni Freeze, Quinn’s mother, waved from the passenger seat.
Juliet waved back and jumped into the backseat. “Thank you for picking me up.”
“Of course. You look lovely today, Juliet,” Loni said.
“Thank you.” Juliet fought to keep from blushing, considering Loni’s son had bent Juliet over a table the other day and made her see stars. “So do you.”
Loni smiled. Definitely petite, it was a surprise the woman had birthed and raised three large sons. Quinn had inherited her dark eyes and angled Native American features, but his size must’ve been his father’s.