“You don’t have to. We have a meeting after cleanup. It’s boring unless you’re on the committee.”
“Oh, right. Dorothy informed me I wasn’t allowed to stay for that.”
“She’s afraid somebody will have better ideas than her,” Arabella said under her breath. Then she put a hand over her mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s okay,” he replied. “I’ve been around her for a little while now and I do believe you’re right.”
Arabella gave him a slight smile. “People are watching us, you know. Dorothy will be puffed up with pride, thinking she’s made a match.”
“Oh, is that why she insisted I attend this dinner?”
“You mean you didn’t figure that one out?”
“No, I didn’t. But … I’m glad she did force me in here. The food was great and it was nice to get to know you a little better.”
“We’ll see how that goes,” she said. Then she turned and strutted away.
Jonathan told himself he didn’t care what Arabella Michaels or anyone else thought. He’d come here with a purpose. He wanted to get to know his niece. And he wouldn’t let a pretty, voluptuous woman in a flowing skirt and cute cowboy boots stop him from doing that.
Back in his car, Jonathan pushed at the memories of his own lousy childhood. In no hurry to get back to the Lucky Lady Inn, he made his way across the town green onto Railroad Street. Glad the speed limit was slow here, he let the top down on the convertible and breathed in the crisp fall air.
Just outside of the main stretch of town he stopped at the driveway of the huge creamy-yellow Victorian house with the big, tree-shaded yard. This was where Arabella, her triplets and Jasmine lived. He’d seen them at the town green when he had come to town the first time and followed them to this house.
A set of matching bronze-encased porch lights sent out a welcoming glow on each side of the big double doors. Colorful yellow and burgundy mums and fat orange pumpkins decorated the long wraparound porch, and a matching set of fall wreaths gave a welcoming look to the entranceway. Nice, he thought as he zoomed on by. It was a little run-down but still like something out of a magazine spread.
He hated that Jasmine had been abandoned. But he thanked God that she’d found a safe place to stay. And he couldn’t fault Arabella because it certainly looked as if she cared about Jasmine. He’d just have to prove that he cared about his niece, too.
Driving around the quaint mountain town, Jonathan compared it to Denver. This threadbare little town certainly was quiet and less crowded, but it reminded him of the place where he’d grown up, which was only about twenty miles up the road. He didn’t like small towns. This one held a forlorn look, like a frayed set of yellowed lacy curtains. But it also exuded a sense of pride. Apparently, Clayton had seen better days, but it wasn’t a ghost town yet.
He sure hoped Jasmine would consider coming to Denver. Maybe she’d like the big city.
Pulling into the less-than-stellar white clapboard boarding house with the faded green shamrock-shaped sign proclaiming it the Lucky Lady Inn, Jonathan wondered for the hundredth time if this had been the right thing to do.
He’d made a nurse mad after canceling their date to take a few days to come down here. He’d also made the chief of staff mad when he’d told the man he might need to take an extra week to work this out. How would Jasmine react? Would his niece want to get to know him, or would she scorn him the way her daddy had?
Legally he couldn’t force her away from a place where she’d lived her whole life. He was a complete stranger to this girl. But he wanted to be family to her. Jonathan needed this connection, needed to know that somehow he could make up for his past.
He might have to do that right here in Clayton. At least he could visit her here if she refused to come to Denver to see him.
He’d thought about becoming a family man a few times, and too many times he’d stopped himself. Most of the women he knew either wanted more than he could give or didn’t quite need enough. He always managed to drive them away, no matter their own agendas. He’d never found the right fit. But having a niece might bridge that gap and give him some experience in the commitment department.
He couldn’t wait to meet Jasmine. She was his closest living relative, after all. He wouldn’t let the girl think she’d been completely abandoned.
Not the way his brother and he had been abandoned.
The girl might not have a mother and father, and in spite of all the wedding talk she had an uncle who wanted to get to know her and give her a better life. Jonathan made a good living. He could help Jasmine receive a college education, offer her a safe place to live, take her out of this one-horse town and show her all the possibilities of living in the big city. First, he had to get to know her and her fiancé better. And to do that, he’d have to get past that perky brown-haired guardian who wore flowing skirts and apparently knew how to use a gun.
Chapter Three
“What did you say to that man, Arabella?” Jasmine asked the minute Arabella got back from dropping the girls off at preschool. “Cade and I didn’t stay to eat last night but I saw that silver car when we left.”
“I found out why he’s here,” Arabella replied to Jasmine’s rapid-fire question.
Yep, she knew why Jonathan Turner was here. Just thinking about the man had kept her up most of the night. He contradicted everything she wanted to believe about him. He’d gone about things the wrong way, but after talking to him she could almost understand his hesitancy. The man was single and a surgeon. Arrogance personified. Only he didn’t seem all that arrogant. He seemed lost and lonely.
“Who is he?” Jasmine munched on dry cereal, her eyes wide with worry.
Arabella stared at her own cold toast, wondering the same thing. “He’s a doctor from Denver.”
“Why is he here?”
“He was looking for a family member.” Asking God to help her find the strength to tell Jasmine the truth, Arabella closed her eyes and rubbed her temple with two fingers. “And … he’s found that person.”
Early-morning sunshine glinted through the kitchen windows, making Arabella wish she could enjoy the pretty fall day. She had to tell Jasmine the whole story, but so far she hadn’t found the courage. Grabbing her third cup of coffee, she took another sip.
Jasmine tapped her fingers on the counter. “You know something, don’t you? You’re not telling me everything.”
Arabella had to admire Jasmine’s shrewd no-nonsense detector. “There is more… . Go get dressed and we’ll talk.”
Jasmine frowned then headed upstairs, the slump of her slim shoulders breaking Arabella’s heart.
An hour later, Arabella sat with Jasmine in the kitchen. The old house was quiet, its bones creaking and shifting with a familiar kind of sway that usually comforted Arabella. But today it only added pressure to the tight fist holding at her heart.
“Talk to me,” Jasmine said, taking Arabella’s hand in hers. “Is that man here to stop my wedding? Is this something about my daddy?”
Arabella squeezed the girl’s hand, unable to speak.
Jasmine pulled her hand away, the tiny solitaire Cade had given her when he’d proposed twinkling like a baby star on her finger. “I won’t give up Cade. I don’t care how many spies Charley Clayton hires. I don’t care if my own daddy comes back and tries to stop me.”
Arabella winced at that declaration. “That man—he’s