Ready to Die (Alvarez & Pescoli)

At that moment, Pescoli, weapon at her side, disappointment etched on her face, walked out of the house and onto the porch. “Nothing,” she said just as a bright light flashed in the darkness. Alvarez instinctively raised her weapon, rolled into a crouch, and saw the reporter, camera in hand, a smile splitting his weasel-like face.

“I said, get him out of here!” she yelled at the rest of the officers who surged forward.

Manny lifted his hands and backed away, and Alvarez knew their fiasco at the cabin was about to be splashed across the front page.

Chapter 29

She probably should never have admitted to Cade that the girls were his, Hattie thought as she closed the back door of the commercial kitchen from which she ran her catering business. There were two parties looming in her near future: the Robbins’ New Year’s Eve dinner, which she had catered for the last three years, and for the first time, the Knapps’ open house the following afternoon. Her business was growing, slowly but surely, and she’d actually thought about taking on a partner so that she could spend more time with the girls.

Weeks ago, she’d worked out the menu and budget with her clients and purchased the items that weren’t perishable. Today it was down to the wire and she’d spent most of her day purchasing and organizing all of the fresh food for the two events; tomorrow she’d start pre-prepping and cooking.

For the most part, she and the girls lived on the girls’ share of the profits from the Grayson ranch, but it wasn’t enough to meet the monthly bills. Her catering business filled that gap, though work was spotty; some times of the year she had more parties than she could service, other times not so much. During the lean months, she spent more time with the twins and in the busy months, like December through New Year’s, she was run ragged.

Wiggling the exterior door’s handle to double-check that the temperamental lock had actually latched, she told herself to quit worrying. Of course she hadn’t known how Cade would react when she’d dropped the bomb on him that he was a father and had been for eight years, but she certainly hadn’t expected silence. Cade had always been vocal and hotheaded, but lately, even dealing with Dan’s condition, he’d been a little more in control of his temper. But not like this. Not to the point of noncommunication.

His initial reaction in the machine shed hadn’t surprised her, but the silence since had. Though she told herself to just be patient, that he was processing, that everything would work itself out, it felt as if she were experiencing the calm before the storm.

“He had to know,” she reminded herself again, her breath fogging in the air. Picking her way through the iced-over puddles in the lot to her Camry, currently parked beneath a utility pole with a high-wattage security lamp, she finally noticed the pickup a few spaces away.

Cade’s truck.

And he was inside, she could see him in the driver’s seat as a car drove past, the wash of headlights illuminating the interior of the pickup and his face: hard. Grim. Uncompromising.

Her heart lurched.

As much as she wanted some kind of communication from him, the thought of actually facing him again was daunting. Would he be reasonable? Would he want things to stay as they were? Would he want to be a bigger part of the twins’ lives? Or would he be nursing his anger, ready to do battle again?

As he observed her approach, he climbed out of the cab, a tall, dark silhouette against the backdrop of the street lamps.

“I wondered when I’d hear from you,” she said, screwing up her courage as she made her way to the space between their vehicles.

“Had a lot to think about.”

She nodded. “I laid some heavy stuff on you.”

He was leaning against the driver’s door of his Dodge, the brim of his hat shading his eyes from the dim glow of the security lights, snow catching on it and the shoulders of his sheepskin jacket. “That you did.” Nodding slightly, he looked away from her for a second, then refocused on her face. “I was wondering what we’re going to do about it.”

“You mean what you’re going to do about it. I plan to live my life the same way I’ve been living it, raising my kids, taking care of my business”—she tossed a hand outward, toward the back of the building housing the kitchen—“and dealing with my screwball family. Mom’s had some health issues, I haven’t heard from Dad in years and suddenly he sends a Christmas card with two checks, one for each of the girls.” She shook her head. “And then there’s Cara.”

“Yeah, Cara.” He said her name as if it tasted bad.

“I know she’s concerned about Dan. She said so.”

He made a sound of disbelief. “She’s your sister. I get that. But she’s no saint, so don’t bother making excuses for her. She is who she is. She never loved Dan. When they were divorc

ed, it was over, at least for her, and she married some other guy. End of story.” A lift of his shoulders said it all: Cara Hyer Grayson Banks was of no consequence.

“So back to you. What do you want, Cade?”

He hesitated for just a second, and his gaze touched hers for a heart-freezing instant. In that moment she saw a life with him, with the girls, all of them at the ranch together. McKenzie on horseback, Mallory demanding her father take her to her next dance recital, a Christmas tree decorated by the staircase, tinsel and lights glittering, she and Cade . . .

Her lips parted at the absurdity of her fantasy. What was she thinking? She and Cade would never work. Yes, they’d been good in bed; she’d never been as turned on by any man, though she would never admit it. And they could appreciate each other’s sense of humor, wry and wicked, but that’s where the compatibility stopped.

Sex and laughter did not a relationship make.

But children might.

“I want the girls,” he said succinctly.