Mediterranean Tycoons. Jacqueline Baird
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Brent opened the truck door and helped Evie climb into her seat. After buckling her in, he paused long enough to gaze into her mournful eyes. He cupped her rosy cheek with the palm of his hand and kissed the tip of her nose.
“You okay now, honey?” he asked.
She didn’t return his smile, just gazed back at him with a somber expression. Sometimes he wished she’d yell and scream. That was something he could understand. Something he thought he knew how to handle. But this quiet compliance, he couldn’t comprehend. It made him wonder what was going on in his little girl’s mind. Her silent solitude must be such an empty, lonely place. If only she’d let him in. If only she would trust him. He felt so clumsy and inept at helping her forget the trauma of her mother’s death.
So powerless.
His prayers remained unanswered. No matter what he did, he couldn’t break through the hushed walls Evie had erected around herself. Even after taking her to a barrage of doctors and specialists, Brent still didn’t know how to help his own little girl.
“You feeling better?” he asked again.
She gave a tentative nod, her gaze sliding toward the convenience store where Jill was paying her bill.
“You like her, don’t you?” he asked.
Evie nodded again.
“Me, too. She’s a nice lady.”
And she’d been there for his daughter. A complete stranger. But a pretty stranger. She was a petite woman with long, sandy-blond hair and intelligent amber-colored eyes. And when she’d flashed her dazzling smile, it had made his throat constrict. Even now, he could hardly take his eyes off her and kept glancing over to view her through the store windows. She’d been so patient and kind, not rushing Evie the way her teachers and counselors sometimes tried to do. And not one of them had gotten through to Evie. No one had.
Until today.
Closing the door, Brent walked around to the driver’s seat and climbed inside. Jill’s car was parked in front of his vehicle, so he took his time. Rather than backing out, he’d wait for her to pull forward.
Evie never took her hawkish gaze off him, vigilant to ensure he didn’t leave her. As he started the engine, he switched the heater on low. The spring weather had put a distinct chill in the air.
He looked at the convenience store. Jill walked toward her car, reaching to take her keys out of her purse. She glanced his way, her warm eyes meeting his. All at once, her cheeks flooded with color and she ducked her head, obviously embarrassed by what had transpired between them. She opened her car door, seeming eager to escape.
Brent couldn’t blame her. She must be feeling a bit jittery after what had happened. An unfamiliar man and his daughter clinging to her like they were all close friends. And a part of him wished he didn’t have to leave it like this. Not without clarifying things first. Not without knowing more about Jill. He was quickly forgetting that she was a stranger he’d met twenty minutes earlier. For some crazy reason, he felt as though he’d known her all his life.
In her rush, Jill dropped her purse, the contents spilling across the dirty pavement. Her mouth fell open in exasperation and she crouched down to gather up her stuff. A hairbrush, nail file and a wallet with a pink flower decorating the front. Feminine things that reminded Brent she was an attractive woman and he was now a lonely, single father.
He almost got out to help, but thought better of it. He needed to focus on Evie and her needs, not on a pretty special-ed teacher from Boise. With his daughter and busy profession, he had his hands full already. Until Evie was speaking again, he couldn’t contemplate anything but her.
Jill glanced up at him and gave an apologetic shrug for the delay. He smiled his encouragement, his mind churning with memories.
He thought about his wife, Lina, and the night she’d died. He’d been working out of town at the time. Fighting wildfire in the mountains of Colorado.
His stomach clenched at the thought. Lina hadn’t been feeling well. She’d never asked, but he knew she wanted him to stay home with her. He’d left anyway. The overtime and hazard pay were too much to resist. He didn’t make a large salary and the extra money would allow them to pay off some bills.
How Brent wished he’d remained home with his family. An inferno of regret scorched his gut every time he thought that maybe, if he hadn’t gone on the wildfire, Lina would still be alive. She’d be whole and unhurt. Evie would be okay. The burden of guilt weighed heavy on his heart. And with Evie refusing to speak, he couldn’t seem to shake it off.
Giving another, yet more exasperated shrug, Jill stood and opened her car door before slinging her purse onto the passenger seat. He chuckled, wishing he dared roll down his window and tease her about all the heavy bags women seemed to carry around everywhere they went. But then, he froze, realizing this was the first time since Lina’s death that he’d felt like flirting with a woman.
His mind stumbled to a halt. Confused and empty. Wondering what was wrong with him. Wondering what it was about Jill that appealed to him so strongly. Perhaps it was just her kindness toward Evie. And yet, he knew it was something more. Something he couldn’t explain. Like an invisible magnet that drew him to her in spite of his vow never to love again.
As Jill climbed inside her car, she flashed that stunning smile of hers and waved at Evie. Brent looked back at his daughter and witnessed the greatest marvel of all. Something Brent never expected and hadn’t seen in a very long time.
Evie smiled and waved back.
“No, I don’t have an appointment with the forest ranger, but I still need to see him. Right now.” Jill stood inside the reception room of the redbrick Forest Service office, gripping the strap of her blue leather purse with whitened knuckles.
Martha Hartnett, the receptionist, stared at her with wide eyes. Jill met the older woman’s gaze without flinching. Feeling determined and forceful. Unwilling to leave this office until she got the answers she needed.
“I’ll ask if he can see you,” Martha murmured as she walked around the high counter, and headed down the long hallway toward the back offices.
Jill watched her go, feeling shameful for her pushy behavior. Martha’s husband worked at the sawmill and Jill hated upsetting the woman. This situation wasn’t Martha’s fault. But Jill was exhausted. She’d spent a sleepless night, sitting up with her anguished mother, trying to sort through everything her brother had told her. Accusations against Alan that didn’t make sense.
At least, not to her.
Jill didn’t know what to believe right now. Alan had always been a good kid. Hardworking and generous. And he’d proven it when Dad had died eight months earlier. While Jill lived in Boise with a career she loved and the aftershocks of a broken heart, Alan had stepped in to take on full management of Russell Sawmill without a single complaint. Timber harvest had been here in Bartlett since the early 1900s, when Teddy Roosevelt and his army of forest rangers had demanded the preservation of large tracts of land for future generations. Jill’s great-great-grandfather had built Russell Sawmill and never left town. But Jill had—as fast as she could go. The moment she’d graduated from high school. After all, what kind of future would she have had here? None. Unless she’d wanted to work at the sawmill the rest of her life. Which she hadn’t—and still didn’t.
It was a two-and-a-half hour drive from Bartlett to the nearest doctor, dentist and decent shopping in the city of Boise. She pacified her guilt for not coming home often by telling herself it was too far to drive frequently. And since leaving Bartlett, she’d returned only for Christmas holidays, short summer vacations, her father’s funeral and to help occasionally at the mill.
Until now.
Alan was only twenty-six. Though