Tori stared at the half-packed suitcase on the bed, each item new and chosen for this journey, symbolic of her mission to start fresh. She was certain her best friend since forever would understand and support her decision. Obviously not the case.
“Oh my God, Tori! Have you lost your mind?” Sasha paced in front of the closet, fingers pressed to her temples. “I am so not believing this!”
Her reaction mirrored the one from Tori’s family last night. Going to Montana was one thing, keeping it secret until the night before she left was a lot to accept. Apparently.
Hands on her hips, voice rife with tension, Sassy - personifying her nickname - raved on. “I mean, really, what do you even know about this guy?” She crossed her arms, right foot tapping out a staccato. “How do you know he’s not some wacko serial killer or if he even has a sick mother?”
She didn’t give Tori time to take a breath much less respond.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell your best friend in the whole world about this hare-brained idea weeks ago instead of the day before you leave.”
“You know why.” Tori held up her hand. “You’re worried, Sassy, I get it. But I have to do this.” She placed folded pants in the suitcase and walked back to the closet, staring at the unfamiliar items hanging there. “The past two years have been a never-ending nightmare.” She wrapped her arms around herself and struggled to remain calm. “Joey died in my arms.” Tori blew out a breath. “I didn’t know a human could endure that much pain and live. I never thought their killers would go free, but they did and I survived that, too.” Her voice dropped to a soft whisper. “I’m just existing, Sassy. I’m not living anymore.”
“Rico is still out there. You know you’re a loose end he wants tied up.”
“I talked with Captain Lockhart last week and Rico hasn’t been seen in months. Word is he took his drug plans elsewhere. Maybe even as far as Canada.” She turned back to the closet and pulled a blouse from its hanger, folded it, shook it out then refolded it. “When Joey and Eddie died, a big part of me died, too.” She took a breath and tried to speak without crying. “I know I can never get that back. But this job will give me a chance to…re-group, get grounded again.”
“But Montana?” Sassy stood in front her. “It’s colder ‘n hell there and snows like a gazillion feet a year! What if you need to go to town or get sick or hurt?”
Tori threw the blouse on the bed and faced her friend. “I can’t stay here any longer!” She trembled with the effort it took to control the pain that had defined her life the last two years. Eyes blurring with unshed tears, she blinked several times, sucking air through clenched teeth. “Everywhere I go, everyone I see is a constant reminder of all I’ve lost. And my family, Sassy…they’re smothering me.”
“They love you. We all do.”
She gripped her friends’ shoulders. “Then please. For my sake, try to understand. I lost a big piece of myself that day and lose a little more each day I stay here.”
Several seconds passed before Sassy placed her hands over Tori’s and squeezed. “All right. But promise you’ll call if you need anything, anything at all.”
“I promise. Now, are you going to help me pack or what?”
“Fine. I’ll help, but I want the whole story, start to finish. How the hell did you get hooked up with some cowboy from Montana?”
Tori released a long held breath. “It’s not a big deal.” She picked up the discarded blouse and refolded it. “Ted Freeman, Chief of Staff at Memorial?”
“Oh yeah, the yummy one that looks like Richard Gere.”
She nodded. “He has this friend in Butte who knew about a family, the McBrides’ that wanted a live-in nurse for his elderly mother. She has terminal cancer. Pretty advanced.”
“They don’t have nurses in Montana?”
She ignored the sarcastic comment. “He mentioned it to Ted who mentioned it to me in passing. I asked for more information, made a few calls.” Tori shrugged. “And off I go.”
Though not that simple, the explanation seemed to satisfy Sasha for now. True, she insisted on a background check and made a few discreet inquiries herself but not until she’d accepted the position. Tori realized significant steps had to take place if she were to have any chance at normal again. This was a significant step. A little rash maybe, but significant, so, no second guessing it now.
It was an ideal solution for her current state of mind. She would live in the McBride home and care for Mr. McBride’s sister and mother, receive an acceptable salary, a private room and meals. Most important of all, she’d be free from constant reminders of her loss and well-meaning friends and family—namely her mother - now determined to fix her up with someone.
But she lacked the motivation, and, though loath to admit it, the confidence, to pursue another relationship. Eddie was her first love, and her only lover. Hell, she’d never even kissed another man—not like that - and even the thought of doing so now made her palms sweat and her heart race.
I’m a thirty-three year old coward.
“Hello in there?” Sasha tapped the side of her head. “Anybody home?”
Tori blinked. “Huh?”
“Answer me.”
“I’m sorry, my mind was wandering. What did you ask?”
She heaved an exasperated sniff. “I said tell me about this McBride fella. What does he look like, is he married? And I want the good stuff, too, not whatever sugar-coated version you gave your parents.”
Tori hesitated.
Sasha poked her shoulder with her index finger. “Out with it. What are you hiding?”
“Nothing.” She studied the closet’s contents without seeing them. “There isn’t much to tell. He runs the family ranch. His brother was the sheriff before he and his wife were killed three months ago.” She took a sweater and studied it. “That’s about it.”
“And you never met ‘im?”
“Uh-uh, just spoke with him on the phone. Got the majority of my information from his sister, Sheila. She had some sort of accident, too and needs PT.”
“Okay then, what does he sound like? Old? Sexy? Gay?”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Well?”
“I guess…hell, I don’t know.” She swapped the sweater for blouse. “It’s hard to describe.” Liar. You know exactly how it sounds; a deep baritone with a huskiness to it that flows through you like fine wine, raises gooseflesh on your arms, leaving you off-balance, a strange tingling sensation racing through you. She placed a hand at her throat and tried to breathe normally as guilt over such forbidden feelings overwhelmed her. If just the sound of his voice on the phone has such an effect on me, what on earth will happen when I meet him?
“Dammit! You’re not listening again.”
