Oh, but right now?
I don’t want his help.
I don’t want him risking his famous butt for me.
Not with Rosie and Stern or mobsters who’ve made our lives a living hell.
I’m about to boil over.
6
No Change of Plans (Ridge)
“Well?” I stare down Tobin with my arms folded, wondering how big a heap of shit I’m in for.
“She wandered the entire house taking notes,” Tobin says, following me into the kitchen.
“Good. Hopefully she’s found plenty to change in every room.” I open a cupboard door and take out a glass. Although my mind is still back in the barn, stuck on how we’d walked the horses around the inside arena and talked, I tell him again. “This place could use some sprucing up.”
“I offered to—”
“So you’re a certified decorator now?” I ask, interrupting him. “Interesting. Mom never mentioned that talent.”
His lips smooth into a thin, frustrated line.
“I didn’t think so.” I fill the cup with coffee. “Guess who is?”
“I’m very aware. What baffles me is why you’re so intent on keeping them here,” Tobin says, barely keeping his voice level. “This isn’t like you, Ridge. You’ve never been overly friendly with strangers—particularly the last few years. You came here for the quiet, the anonymity, the reclusiveness…having people living in the guest cabin now is the exact opposite of that.”
I shrug, partly because I’m not totally sure myself why I decided to dive into this insanity, but I damn sure want Grace and her father kept safe.
“It’s been over six months living with the best Dallas has to offer. Maybe I’ve decided it was boring. I’m ready for some excitement.”
Tobin straightens those oval wire-framed glasses of his, then clasps his hands neatly in front of him. “There’s a difference between excitement and danger. I trust you know the distinction.”
I suck in a breath of air.
“You think I don’t?” I snarl.
Of course I do. I’d thought that very thing while shoveling. Thought about it a lot.
“No,” Tobin replies, stone-faced as ever. “I’m just worried about the type of excitement you’ve gotten yourself mixed up in the past few days. Perhaps you should reconsider your career trajectory.”
A blaze of anger whips through me.
Dammit, I know what he’s suggesting, and it ain’t happening.
“Forget it. I’m not going back to Tinseltown. I’ve told you a hundred times I’m done with that fuckery. After Mom, after that pig…” I bite my jaw together so hard it almost snaps.
We both know who I mean.
And we have a silent agreement never to say his name again.
The career I had is over and done. Just like the Army. A bullet in the leg cut my service time short on a botched raid against a Taliban compound. So did the guilt I had over Mom spiraling downward.
I’d accepted that easily enough. I returned to acting as an adult rather than a child, giving it a second go, but when I found out what happened to my mother…
Yeah. Tobin would need a whole division of elite troops to drag me back to that shit.
“Forgive me,” he says, his expression lightening. “I certainly didn’t mean to dredge up old ghosts.”
“You know what happened, and you know why,” I say, needlessly reminding him that he’d been the one to point out what was going on.
Tobin’s little tip got me in a brawl that could only end one way. He tried to stop me, tried to be the voice of reason, but he would’ve had better luck talking sense to a hurricane.
Not that it matters.
None of that shit matters a damn anymore.
I’m done, done, and also done.
Tobin clears his throat, shifting his weight. “As far as Miss Sellers…she’s asked for a budget and access to a supplier to place orders for the materials we’ve agreed on.”
“Give her my Centurion card and that extra laptop. Let her go wild,” I growl.
“Very well, and how much have you decided for…”
He’s silenced by the look I give him. She could max out several credit cards and it wouldn’t faze my bank account. He knows it.
I also know Grace won’t burn a dollar more than she really needs to get things done.
“You heard me, Tobin. I said, wild.”
He nods. “Do you have any requests for lunchtime?”
“No. Whatever you want to cook today will be fine.” I set my coffee cup in the sink. “For all of us, I’m sure.”
He’ll come around, sooner or later, and understand that I have to help Grace and her father.
It just takes him time to make peace with new situations that seem threatening.
For once, this one actually is, but I know it’s nothing we can’t handle.
I head downstairs to the gym and change into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to finish the workout I’d skipped this morning. The couple hours I spent shoveling snow were a good release of energy, and plenty of exercise, but I still need something else.