A Family Kind of Guy by Lisa Jackson Read Free Book Online Page B

his lifetime but had unearthed more than his share of enemies.
    So what had happened to him? Had someone killed him and taken his body? But why? Or had he been kidnapped? Or had he just taken a notion and up and left? Mason rubbed the back of his neck in frustration and wondered if Patty had been involved. “Hell’s bells,” he muttered as he scanned the countryside. Berry vines and thistle were taking over the fields, and the barn, which had never been painted, was beginning to fall apart. The roof sagged and some of the bleached board-and-batten siding was rotting away.
    What the hell had happened here?
    Foul play?
    Or had an addled, lonely old man left in desperation?
    No one seemed to know and everyone within fifty miles was frightened. Mysteries like this didn’t happen in these sparsely populated hills. The town of Bittersweet and the surrounding rural landscape were far from the rat race and crime of the city; that was part of the charm of this section of Oregon. But Isaac’s disappearance had changed all that. Dead bolts that had nearly rusted in the open position were being thrown, security companies contacted for new installments, and, worst of all, shotguns cleaned and kept loaded near bedsteads in the event that an intruder dared break in.
    The townspeople and farmers were nervous.
    The sheriff’s department wanted answers.
    And there was nothing. Not a clue.
    Except for Patty.
    Shadows lengthened across the dry acres that made up Isaac Wells’s spread. Mason kicked at a dirt clod, then scoured the darkening sky, as if in reading the stars that were beginning to wink in the purple distance, he could find clues to the old man’s disappearance. Of course, there were none. Nor were there any celestial explanations for why Mason seemed destined to deal with Bliss Cawthorne again. He couldn’t stop himself, of course, and truth to tell, he was inwardly grateful that she hadn’t married another man and had a couple of kids.
    Like you did.
    He’d been foolish enough to think that by seeing her again he’d realize that what he’d felt for her all those years ago—some kind of schoolboy infatuation wrapped up in guilt—had diminished; that he’d see her and laugh at himself for the fantasies that had haunted him over the years.
    â€œMoron,” he growled as memories of his youth, of that time in his life when he was searching, hoping to find something, anything to cling to, flitted through his mind. Boy, had he made a mess of it. He stretched out his left hand, felt the old scar tissue in his arm tighten and was reminded of the horrid, black afternoon when she’d almost died. Because of him. Though John Cawthorne didn’t know the whole story and probably never would, the God’s honest truth was that Mason had nearly killed her.
    He shoved a wayward hank of hair from his eyes and silently leveled an oath at himself. He’d been the worst kind of fool.
    She’d turned into the beauty her youth had promised. Her hair was still a streaked golden blond, her eyes crystal blue, her lips as lush as he remembered. Her body was thin in the right places and full where it should be. Yep, she’d matured into what he suspected was one hell of a woman, and the defiant tilt of her chin as she’d challenged him today in the barn had only added to her allure.
    He looked around the outside of the small house, noticed the faded real-estate sign planted firmly in the grass and frowned. Who would want this scrap of worthless land?
    â€œDamn it all to hell,” he muttered as he headed back to his rig. He had enough problems in his life. Running his businesses, trying to convince Terri that Dee Dee was better off with him and hoping to find his flake of a sister were more than enough. Now, like it or not, he would have to deal with Bliss.
    Life had just gotten a lot more complicated.
    * * *
    â€œYou know, Dad, I’m still having trouble with all