He couldn’t believe Jack had come after Riley himself, but here he was. Dean hadn’t talked to him in a couple of years, and he sure as hell didn’t want to talk to him now. He fought his instinct to goose the accelerator and shoot past him. Years ago, he’d fixed his strategy for dealing with his father, and he saw no reason to change. He pulled up and slid down the car window. Keeping his expression carefully neutral, he propped his elbow on the frame. “Jack.”

The son of a bitch nodded. “Dean. It’s been a long time.”

Dean nodded back. No digs or wisecracks. Total indifference.

Jack rested the heel of his hand on the roof of the car. “I came to get Riley, but she ran away after she saw me.”

“Really?” It didn’t entirely explain why he was out here walking alone, but Dean wouldn’t ask.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen her.”

“No.”

The silence between them lengthened. If Dean didn’t offer to drive him to the house, he’d be showing the son of a bitch exactly how much he hated him. Still, he had to force out the words. “Need a lift?”

Jack stepped back from the car. “I don’t want her to see me. I’ll walk.”

“Suit yourself.” He slid the window up and pulled slowly away. No spinning tires or flying gravel. Nothing to show the depth of his anger. When he reached the house, he headed inside. The electrician had finished installing most of the fixtures today, and they finally had some decent light. He heard footsteps overhead. “Blue?”

“Upstairs.”

Just the sound of her voice made him feel better. She’d distract him from worrying about Riley, from his tension over Jack. She’d make him smile, make him mad, turn him on. He needed to keep her here.

He found her in the second-largest bedroom, which had a fresh coat of light tan paint, a new bed and dresser, but not much else, no rugs, no curtains, no chairs, although Blue had found a paint-spattered gooseneck desk lamp somewhere and set it on the dresser. She was smoothing a blanket over the sheets she’d just tucked in. Her T-shirt fell loosely away from her body as she leaned forward, and locks of hair had escaped from her ponytail and drifted down her neck like spilled ink.

She looked up, twin worry lines between her eyebrows. “Riley’s run away.”

“I heard. I ran into Jack on the road.”

“How did that go?”

“It went fine. Not a big deal. He doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“Right.” She didn’t believe him, but she didn’t challenge him, either.

“Don’t you think somebody should be out looking for her?” he said.

“We’ve looked everywhere. She’ll be back when she’s ready.”

“You’re sure about that?”