Page 40 of Her Saltwater Cowboy

She swallowed and cast a look through the window. Wasn’t as sunny now. “My uncle showed up at my mother’s care facility. He’s trouble. Not sure how he found her.”

Chance’s brows knit together more forcefully now. “Did he cause a ruckus?”

“Yeah. Triggered some kind of episode.”

He stepped closer, concern on his face. She sensed he wanted to touch her, probably just to console her, but he resisted. Oh, how she could lean into that touch right now …

She pulled back slightly, allowing more space between them.

“What did he want?”

“Money.” She shrugged. “What else?”

“Is your mother wealthy?”

“She has nothing.” Her voice broke. “Just her basics.”

His jaw flexed, something stirring. “Did he threaten your mother? Or the people there?”

“I don’t think so, but he’s bad for her.”And us. He’s bad for us.“My mother’s memory is compromised, but somewhere in the fog she knows him and she’s afraid. The nurse who called said it was obvious that he caused her to get upset.”

Chance moved toward her. He rubbed her shoulder gently. “I’m sorry, Willow. What can I do to help?”

She stared down at her hands, sorely wishing she could fold herself into his embrace instead of just standing there with his touch on her upper arm. “No one can help.” She lifted her gaze, hoping he didn’t see her terror. “I, um, I might have to leave. Just for a little while, in case he shows up again.”

“Leave the ranch?”

She blew out a breath. “It’s a … mess. They might not allow her to stay, but it’s, well, it’s complicated.”

Chance’s gaze searched her face. “Why do I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me?”

His tone, both curious and slightly suspicious, brought a lump to her throat. She didn’t want to leave here, not now.Not ever.But she’d simply told Ace she needed this job to be closer to her mother, not the circumstances that brought her mother to this care home far from Los Angeles, where she once lived.

If she told Chance the truth, what would he think of her mother? Of … her?

“Willow?”

The steadiness of his voice, the deep thrum of it, unlocked a piece of what she had buried down deep. But what if she told him the truth and Chance threw her out?

“You can tell me, you know.”

Why was she keeping this such a secret anyway? Surely, everyone’s family had skeletons rattling around in their closets. She suspected the Sutters might even have a few.

She wasn’t sure when she’d decided to blurt it out, exactly. It might have been the way he coaxed her with his steady gaze, or the way he leaned in ever so slightly, giving her a heady whiff of both earth and smoke.

Whatever the reason, Willow found herself saying, “My mother was convicted of mortgage fraud.”

Chance blinked.

She shifted, a headache dart stabbing at her. “My father passed, and I had no idea how little they saved.” She paused, willing away the pain in her head. “My uncle told her about a business venture that could save us all—he was broke too.”

Chance nodded for her to continue, but did she want to?

She blew out a breath. “He, uh, bought a bunch of rundown properties, got them really cheap, but then he faked the appraisals and took out large mortgages against them.”

Chance’s brows dipped.

“My mom was a retired schoolteacher who had taken a part time job for a lender. She got them to fund the loans, even though she questioned her brother’s ethics.”

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