with you? I’ll help Avery unpack and get settled in, then I’ll bring her up to the house and show her around.” Her lips twisted in a false smile as the men agreed and disappeared. She turned to Avery. “He doesn’t really need any help, you know. It’s just that Mac likes to have things his way and he thinks Logan needs someone.”
“Sounds like a concerned father to me.” Avery knew the girl was just itching for a scene or an argument, and she wasn’t about to accommodate her. She walked into the kitchen and started opening the cabinets, familiarizing herself with her new surroundings. It was definitely a change from her former residence.
“Mac’s concerned, but Logan can take care of himself, and I’m always around to help. We’re very close.” She picked up a pillow from the sofa and fluffed it.
Followed by Jessie, Avery headed for the bedroom. She was entertained by the girl’s jealousy and childish attempts to warn her off, but she could have told Jessie a thing or two about men, and Logan Monahan in particular. She’d seen the way he looked at Jessie. There was nothing in his eyes but controlled amusement. Certainly, there was nothing remotely sexual.
She opened her suitcase and began putting away her belongings under the young woman’s watchful gaze. It was hard to miss the swift lack of interest; she realized her clothes weren’t up to Jessie’s standards. Some of them even brought a sneer. Still, she could feel those angry, cat-green eyes boring into her, following as she moved around the room.
“Logan’s not interested in women, you know.”
Avery bit her lip, finished hanging up one of her cotton dresses, then gave Jessie her full attention. “You mean he’s gay? That doesn’t bother me.”
“God, no. He’s not gay. I meant, he’s still mourning Becky.”
Avery decided she might as well ask and save Jessie the effort of finding another way to tell her. “Who’s Becky?”
The turbulent gaze directed at her was a shock. She saw torment, an emotion far too heavy for one so young. The struggle to keep the pain at bay was evident in the way Jessie held herself so straight and stiff.
“Rebecca Middleton Monahan, his wife. My sister.” She cleared her throat, then swallowed hard. “They were madly, passionately in love. She’s dead.”
“I’m sorry,” Avery said, pretending not to hear the anguish in the girl’s voice. She sensed that Jessie, under normal circumstances, would never talk to a stranger about her sister. But something other than her being hired to work for Logan had triggered Jessie’s highly charged state. All Avery could do was wait, seemingly not noticing, while the young woman composed herself.
“They were childhood sweethearts, you know,” Jessie finally added. My sister waited for Logan to finish college so they could get married.”
Avery had a sudden desire to put her arms around Jessie. Memories of a different time and place, of a younger girl, of heartbreak and misery, flooded back. She could have told Jessie that with time the pain would lessen.
Instead, Avery sat on the side of the bed, one hand squeezing the material of her dress. She was swamped by a wave of compassion and sorrow as it all came rushing back. She missed her friends, her job and her family. She missed laughing, and the secure feeling of being home. Texas was not Seattle. Logan was not her fiancé, and Jessie was not her sister, Emma. For her own sanity, Avery couldn’t afford to look back. She’d had to learn to be hard and unyielding for so long that any show of tenderness almost took her breath away.
The exacting lessons and self-preservation were powerful teachers. She’d made a promise to herself that no matter where she went or whom she met, she couldn’t afford to get involved. She would keep to herself, never ask questions unless they pertained to her job, and stay out of people’s personal lives. Most important of all, she would keep her mouth shut.
“What happened to Becky?” Avery asked. So much for promises, she thought wryly.
Jessie shrugged, got off the end of the bed and began to roam the small room, touching everything. “She and Jamie were killed in a car crash.” She tapped her fist to her chest as if she was having trouble getting the next words out. “It happened at the entrance to the ranch. She pulled out in front of an eighteen-wheeler.”
Jessie slid her fingers over the smooth wood of the bureau, then stopped in front of the mirror, where she straightened her bangs and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She checked the condition of her pink lipstick, then her eyes met Avery’s.
Her pose struck a too-familiar cord. Avery recognized the desperate actions of a person trying to disguise her feelings but still needing to talk. “Who’s Jamie?” she asked.
“Their son. My nephew. He was killed, too.”
Avery could think of nothing appropriate to say, nothing that would ease the hurt. She watched as Jessie angrily wiped away the tears from her cheeks with the back of a hand. Avery almost caved in and went to her, but suddenly their gazes clashed and she stopped in time. It didn’t take much to see that, for her own reasons, Jessie had made up her mind to hate her. She, Avery, was an outsider, an intruder in Logan’s life.
Jessie started to leave, then paused by the door to say, “I wouldn’t unpack everything if I were you. You won’t be here that long.” She gave the dress Avery was holding a contemptuous glance. “When you’re through, you’d better come up to the house.” The parting remark was said like the lady of the manor to a lowly servant. Avery gritted her teeth.
The girl’s lightning shift from heartbreak to arrogance puzzled her. With a shiver of foreboding, she thought maybe she should leave. There were too many dark currents under all that civilized surface, and too many raw emotions barely cloaked by strained smiles. But where would she go? With a sigh, she unhurriedly put away the rest of her belongings. As she did so, she realized something. She’d become a fighter, and she wasn’t going to be so easy to dismiss.
Before leaving the little house, she hesitated, taking the time to look around. This was her home now and the only one she was likely to have. All she had to do to stay was simply discover a way to get along with Logan Monahan.
CHAPTER TWO
AVERY FOLLOWED the well-worn path leading to the back door of the main house. The shade from the trees and the lazy breeze cut the noonday heat, cooling her skin and filling the air with the scent of honeysuckle.
She was a city girl, had never been on a ranch, but even so, she’d seen enough Westerns—movies and television shows—to realize something was wrong with the picture. The sun was shining. Birds were singing happily. She could even hear the rustle of trees in the wind. Somewhere far away she thought she heard the mournful bellow of a cow. The big brick building she thought was a barn appeared to be in perfect condition, but why the neglect everywhere else? The mystery was intriguing enough to ease her jumpy nerves and queasy stomach.
Avery mounted the steps of the porch, and as she drew closer to the door, she could hear raised voices. She hesitated before knocking. It was then that she recalled another nagging question. Except for the people in the house, the place seemed deserted. She would have thought a ranch would be a hive of activity.
Walking into the middle of a family argument wasn’t an appealing prospect. She’d done that too many times in her previous life and knew the pitfalls and the likelihood of getting sucked into taking sides. Curiosity got the better of her, however, and she tried to eavesdrop, but the rumble of voices on the other side of the solid door proved impossible to understand. She’d raised her hand to knock when the door was yanked open. Jessie pushed past her, followed by Mac at a more sedate pace.
“Don’t mind my son’s bark,” Mac said to Avery, loudly enough for everyone to hear. “It’s way worse than his bite, and he don’t mean nothing by it.” He patted Avery on the shoulder, winked, then lowered his voice. “And don’t let him bully you. He’s dang good at that.”
She smiled in gratitude, closed the door, then gathered