Page 24 of Delicate Escape

My gut twisted at how Cope’s voice lost all its humor, and serious concern filled it. “I’m good. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He sent me a pointed look. “Don’t pull the bull with me. I know you better than that.”

My back teeth ground together. “Rho’s good. She’s healing. Anson says the nightmares are better, too. So, if she’s good? I’m good.”

Cope was quiet for a long moment, taking me in. That study called me a liar, but he didn’t push. This time. “Okay. You need to talk shit out, just call.”

“Sure.” I wouldn’t. I’d bury it. Or I’d take it out on whatever house I was working on. But that was how I dealt. My dad had understood that. When I was growing up, he was the one who’d realized I needed to do something with my hands to work through whatever I was dealing with.

He’d put me to work fixing fences on the ranch, then helping him build a new shed or fix up the barn. Through him, I’d discovered my love for both creating something from nothing and bringing back things that had been neglected and forgotten. We’d lost him years ago, but I still felt the ache of missing him every time I started something new.

“Tell everyone hey for me,” Cope said, breaking into my thoughts.

“Will do.”

“Later, Bob the Builder,” Cope clipped, hitting end on the call before I could say anything back.

I just shook my head and went in search of a hot shower. It wasn’t long before I was clean, changed, and headed toward Cope’s place. As I pulled up to the gate and rolled down my window, I heard the whir of a camera moving. The lens zeroed in on my face as I plugged in the code.

Security was necessary for Cope, thanks to his hockey-star status. We didn’t get a lot of lookie-loos out this far, but there was the occasional superfan. And if security wasn’t in place, they’d drive right up to his front door.

But the safety measures shielded Arden, too. Not that she couldn’t take care of her own damn self.

The moment the gates opened, I eased off the brake. You couldn’t see any of the structures on the property from here, just a paved road flanked by aspen trees. It curved for a handful of minutes, crossing over a creek I knew fed into the large pond the main house butted up against. Finally, the road opened to show the majestic landscape.

The house itself was a blend of deep, reddish wood, stone, and glass. You couldn’t see in the massive windows, but I knew from being in on the design that you could damn well see out. One side faced Castle Rock with its golden faces, and the other had a floor-to-ceiling view of the Monarch Mountains with the pond right below them. I had no idea how Cope could leave it empty for most of the year.

I kept driving past the main house and over another bridge to a smaller guest cottage. The architecture mirrored the main structure, but this one had a massive workshop behind it—because Arden needed huge for her projects. That and a barn in the distance that housed her two beloved horses.

I pulled in next to a pickup that made me scowl. She’d had the same one since high school. Now, it was rusted in spots, and the bed was scratched to hell from her carting around materials and finished masterpieces. She needed something new. And given how much she got paid for her art, she could damn well afford it.

Turning off the engine, I slid out of my truck and headed for herworkshop door. There was no question where she would be, even if the strains of hard rock hadn’t given her away. Sometimes, I wondered if Arden ever went back to her house or if she just slept on the couch in here for a couple of hours at a time.

I reached out and tested the doorknob. Unlocked. My scowl deepened as I opened the door to deafening sounds I wasn’t sure could be classified as music.

I took one step, and an enormous Cane Corso stepped into my path. At least the mastiff was something because Arden wasn’t the slightest bit aware of my presence.

“Beruhigen,” I told the dog, and his quivering muscles relaxed at the German command. I reached out and scratched behind his ears. “How’s it hanging, Brutus?”

He leaned into me, relishing the affection.

The music flicked off a second later, but Arden didn’t turn around from the drafting desk, her hand still flying across a giant sheet of paper. “What’s up, Shep?”

My lips twitched. At least she hadn’t turned off the security system alerts. “I’m here to get you for dinner.”

“Can’t. In the middle of something.”

I glanced at the giant heap of metal in the center of the room. It didn’t look like anything discernible yet, but it would. My gaze returned to her as I moved in that direction. “You’re always in the middle of something. But if you don’t show tonight, both Mom and Lolli will come over here. And you know Mom will start cleaning, organizing, and asking why there’s no food in your fridge.”

Arden’s head flew up, sending her hair flying as piercing, gray-violet eyes locked with mine. “I went two weeks ago.”

“Three,” I informed her.

She cursed, dropping her pencil to the table’s little ledge.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s family dinner, not torture.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Arden muttered as she ran a hand through her hair, revealing gray smudges along the side of her pinky finger and palm. “I was in a flow.”

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