What Happens at the Ranch...

by Christy Jeffries

  “You think she won’t?” Simon hitched a brow.

  Grayson sucked in a deep breath, wishing he’d never been stationed on those church steps yesterday. That he’d never met Tessa King. “The only thing I think is that I really don’t know her at all.”

  “Look...” Simon spoke as he packed his laptop into a waterproof case. “We all liked working with her father, and because of that, I want to give her the benefit of the doubt. But I’ve been in this business a long time. She’s probably going to be embarrassed when she sees herself portrayed in an unflattering light. She’s also going to have an entire public relations team working to turn this story around so she doesn’t look bad. Hopefully, she can save herself without drowning you—or the agency—in the process. It’s been my experience, though, that powerful people will do anything to protect their reputations, including throwing little minnows like us to the sharks in order to save themselves.”

  Grayson watched his supervisor leave before turning his attention back to the whiteboard at the front of the room. Unfortunately, he couldn’t afford to sit here and worry about the outcome of a potential inquiry board or a media feeding frenzy. He couldn’t even afford to think about how Tessa was going to react when she saw the videos or whether she would save herself. He had a job to do and the job always came first.

  He could only pray that Miss King had a good PR person to get them both out of this mess. Because staying holed up on this ranch, no matter how many thousands of acres it covered, with the beautiful woman was going to be more dangerous than diving straight into shark-infested waters.

  Chapter Four

  “Why do they always do this?” Tessa shoved her smartphone across the breakfast table so it would be far out of her reach. She needed to resist the temptation to scroll through any more pictures of her being carried away from her father’s funeral by #SecretAgentSteamy, which was currently the top trending hashtag on every social media platform in the United States. And half of Europe.

  “Because news sells,” Aunt Freckles replied, taking a hot pan of her famous buttermilk biscuits out of the oven. “And sensational news sells sensationally. I would’ve thought they’d taught you that in Journalism 101.”

  “This isn’t journalism.” Tessa folded her arms in front of her in an effort to still her twitching fingers. “It’s pure voyeurism.”

  “Can you blame the public, darlin’? That Agent Wyatt looks just as yummy as my freshly whipped honey butter.” Freckles set down a ceramic crock full of creamy heaven in front of Tessa. “Get your knife ready because there ain’t nothing my homemade biscuits can’t solve.”

  “How did you sneak real butter past Mom?” Tessa peeked down the hallway connecting the kitchen to the rest of the house. Sherilee King’s strict vegan diet was more about her waistline and less about her fondness for animals.

  “I waited until after the guests left and your mom snuck off to that spot by the river where she and your dad used to go. She needs some alone time. Then I slipped MJ a hundred-dollar bill and the keys to your uncle Rider’s truck yesterday afternoon to run into town and get me some.”

  “Couldn’t you have just asked the catering staff to leave those little rectangle packets wrapped in foil?”

  “Nope. Your momma gave the caterers strict orders to take every last pat with them when they left. Not that it mattered because I wouldn’t dream of messing up my new polish unwrapping those darn things when the butter inside isn’t even my brand.”

  Tessa glanced down at her aunt’s long acrylic nails, which were now a different—and brighter, if that were possible—shade than they’d been at yesterday’s funeral.

  “Besides,” Freckles continued, “your baby brother was champing at the bit to get out of here yesterday. I merely provided him with the means and justification to escape.”

  Tessa’s mother must’ve heard that last part as she walked into the kitchen through the mudroom. “So you’re the one to blame for Mitchell Junior getting arrested last night?”

  “Arrested?” Tessa dropped her knife back into the ceramic crock. “For what?”

  “For being out late with Kendra Broman.” Sherilee picked up the warm biscuit already coated with butter from Tessa’s plate, smeared on another two layers, then shoved half the thing into her mouth. Crumbs fell from her lips as she mumbled, “Two scandals with two of my kids in less than two days. It’s like my heart isn’t already breaking enough with Roper gone.”

  Freckles buttered another biscuit and handed it to her former sister-in-law. “Since when is it a crime for a young buck to spend a little time in the evening with a pretty girl?”

  “Did I mention there was some underage drinking involved and Mitchell allegedly took a swing at the arresting deputy? Who also happened to be Kendra’s father?”

  “Did you call Marcus?” Tessa reached across the table for her recently abandoned phone, intending to call her brother.

  “Call him? I’ve been in his office for the past thirty minutes reading him the riot act. When that didn’t work, I reminded Marcus that I suffered through twenty-six agonizing hours of labor giving birth to him. I swear, that boy refuses to listen to reason.” Her mom lovingly gazed down at the biscuit that had magically appeared in her hand and sighed. “God, I’d kill for some bacon right now.”

  Freckles, who had an uncanny knack for knowing what people needed before they even knew it themselves, already had the seldom-used cast-iron skillet going. She caught Tessa’s attention before nodding toward Sherilee and mouthing the words, Stress eating.

  “So then where’s MJ now?” Tessa asked her mom.

  “Still in jail. Marcus is charging him with resisting arrest. I guess, technically, Deputy Broman is charging him with that. But Marcus is the sheriff and he thinks Mitchell needs to stay put until the arraignment this afternoon. He thinks his baby brother has been bailed out by his family too many times already and needs to learn a lesson. Apparently, he doesn’t know that reporters are crawling all over town right now trying to get more dirt on your—” her mom pointed the butter knife in Tessa’s direction “—little display yesterday.”

  Tessa inwardly rolled her eyes before throwing out a half-hearted wave dismissing the accusation. Sure, she could defend herself. Again. Or calmly try to explain to her mother that the so-called “little display yesterday,” was exactly that—little. She knew from experience, though, that arguing with Sherilee King was tantamount to waving a red flag in the face of an angry bull, and the woman would not be satisfied until she drew blood.

  “I’m serious, Contessa.” Their mom only used her children’s formal names when she wanted to add that extra bit of drama. “We barely laid your father to rest and already he’d be rolling over in his grave with his children’s scandalous behavior.”

  “Stop getting so worked up, Sher.” Freckles flipped over a slice of bacon. “Roper King never let a little bit of scandal get to him. This’ll all die down by tonight.”

  “It’d better.” Sherilee jutted her chin toward the jungle-print yoga pants doing nothing to camouflage Freckles’s curvaceous backside. “Because if I have to eat my way through any more stress, my rear end is going to end up as big as yours.”

  Freckles opened her mouth to fire back a response at her sister-in-law and Tessa knew she had to stop the two women before the name-calling made the situation worse. “Did you mention the reporters to Marcus?”

  “Yes. His solution was to call the special agent in charge and request additional agents stay on to secure the ranch.”

  Alarm bells went off in Tessa’s head. She formed her lips to ask a question but the words got caught in her throat. Closing her eyes, she touched her tongue to the roof of her mouth, just like her former speech therapist had taught her. She concentrated and tried again. “Wh...wh...which additional agents?”

  “Hopefully, not the one you got into trouble with yesterday,” her moth
er replied, apparently not noticing Tessa’s stutter.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Sherilee.” Freckles wiggled her heavily penciled eyebrows as though she weren’t the least bit sorry. Or disappointed. “But it doesn’t look like Agent Steamy is packing his bags anytime soon.”

  The legs of her mother’s chair screeched against the wood-planked floor as she scrambled to look out the large picture window that framed the kitchen table. “How can you tell?”

  Tessa, hoping to be less conspicuous, remained firmly planted in her seat. Yet she couldn’t help stretching her neck to see around both her mom and her aunt.

  An all-terrain vehicle with two men in suits pulled onto the dirt road behind the house, followed by another all-terrain vehicle that parked behind them. The second ATV was driven by a woman dressed in dusty boots, jeans and a flannel shirt. Her leather-tooled belt holding a black-leather holster was the only giveaway that she wasn’t actually working with the cattle today.

  Climbing out of the seat beside her was a man dressed as though he’d just bought his outfit at the Wild West costume shop yesterday. That turquoise snap-button paisley shirt still had the fold creases in the material, which seemed to strain across his broad shoulders. And he was wearing hiking boots instead of actual cowboy boots. Okay, so maybe his well-worn jeans didn’t look so brand-new. In fact, they molded to his muscular thighs like they were made for the man.

  Tessa gulped and forced her eyes above his narrow black belt, which didn’t boast any sort of ornate rodeo-style buckle most of the other ranch employees wore. Agent Grayson Wyatt had to be the worst undercover cowboy she had ever seen.

  Unfortunately, the shiver of awareness racing down her spine reminded her that Grayson looked just as attractive as he had yesterday.

  Tessa used one of the monogrammed linen napkins to wipe away the dampness that suddenly appeared above her upper lip. She’d thought she’d put yesterday’s panic attack out of her mind last night. But then she’d awoken to both the internet and her mother all abuzz this morning. Now, the cause of the incident himself was walking up to the back porch wearing his brand-new shirt, causing her nerve endings to tingle with the threat of disaster.

  Even though she knew it was coming, the loud knock on the kitchen door reverberated in her throat.

  “Come on in.” Freckles’s welcoming grin was as wide as the pit growing in Tessa’s stomach.

  “Is now a good time for that family briefing?” the special agent in charge asked the three women in the room.

  “Well, half of our family isn’t even here, Agent Simon. But you already know that since you were down at the sheriff’s office earlier.” Sherilee’s tone was accusatory, as though it was somehow the Secret Service’s fault that MJ had gotten arrested.

  “Mom,” Tessa warned before turning her attention to the SAIC, carefully avoiding looking past him to Grayson. “I’m not sure we need a formal briefing. Dahlia lives in town and Duke and his husband are on the same flight to DC with me this afternoon. It’ll just be my mother and my sister Finn staying on at the ranch. Oh, and MJ. When Marcus releases him, of course.”

  “Oh no.” Her mother pointed a butter-smeared finger at Tessa. “You are not flying to DC this afternoon and leaving this bodyguard mess behind for me to clean up.”

  “What mess is there to clean up?” Finn King asked as she brushed past the four agents huddled near the doorway and planted herself in the center of the kitchen. Finn had probably been wide-awake and out roping calves well before dawn. That was why she was the heir apparent to the Twin Kings Ranch. She was the only sibling fully devoted to working the land. “The steers hate those ATVs, by the way. I’d appreciate it if your agents wouldn’t race them pass the chutes on the mornings we’re trying to breed.”

  Tessa had never been as happy for her little sister’s take-charge attitude as she was right then. Nothing happened on the ranch without Finn knowing about it. And if Finn didn’t want the agents sticking around, they’d be out of there by midday.

  Sherilee rubbed the one crease in her otherwise cosmetically enhanced forehead before turning to her youngest daughter. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy playing matchmaker with your precious bulls, Finn, you’d know that other humans in your family are still going through the grieving process.”

  “Mom, those bulls pay for all this.” Finn extended her arm to gesture from the entire house and its professionally decorated contents to the rolling hills outside. “Besides, us humans all grieve in our own way. My way is to continue the Twin Kings’ dynasty. Apparently, MJ’s is to get stupid drunk with Deputy Broman’s daughter. And Tessa’s way is to make headlines with Agent Steamy over there.”

  A warm flush spread through Tessa’s face and she refused to address the Agent Steamy comment while the man in question was only a few yards away, his calculated gaze seemingly absorbing every detail in their kitchen. Instead, she smiled at her sister and asked, “Does part of the Twin Kings’ dynasty involve stomping through the house like a herd of wild elephants with your muddy boots?”

  Normally, their mother would’ve taken the bait and immediately scolded anyone who dared to track so much as a speck of dirt into her pristine home. But she was too focused on pouring the entire contents of the china cream pitcher into her coffee.

  “Nice try, Tess.” Finn grabbed a biscuit off the plate and shot Aunt Freckles a wink. “But the only elephant in this room is the one between you and Agent Steamy and the hundred cameras stationed along every fence line hoping to get another picture of you two in a compromising position.”

  Yep, Finn was very well aware of what was going on at the ranch and she had no problem speaking her mind. She’d inherited their father’s love of the land, but not his skills at diplomacy or his ability to keep family matters private. Tessa gave her little sister a warning glance and Finn responded by sticking out her lips and making kissing noises.

  “With all due respect, Miss King and Miss King,” SAIC Simon interjected. “When the media gets wind of your younger brother’s arrest, you’re going to have paparazzi rushing the gates trying to get the inside scoop. Several of them have already extended their reservations at the hotel in town because of the, uh—” the supervisor briefly glanced at Tessa “—‘Agent Steamy’ incident. So even if that situation dies down, like it usually does, we’re not comfortable abandoning our post just yet.”

  Grayson cleared his throat. “Can we please stop referring to me as Agent Steamy?”

  “Nope,” Aunt Freckles said.

  “Not a chance,” Finn echoed.

  “You two are absolutely incorrigible,” Sherilee scolded as she stood from the table, pretending not to see all the flaky biscuit crumbs falling from her tailored silk blouse to the floor. “Agents, I apologize for my youngest daughter and my former sister-in-law. They both know better than to ogle random men and tease employees of our government.”

  “Mom, aren’t you gonna apologize for your oldest daughter, as well?” Finn asked not so innocently. “Pretty sure Tessa knows better than to fall into the arms of strange men, no matter how swoon-worthy they are.”

  “I didn’t fall.” Tessa shot Finn a look that promised retribution. “He picked me up.”

  “Technically, you were on your way down.” Grayson’s mouth quirked up on one side as he corrected her. And to think she’d actually had a dream last night about that mouth of his—

  Tessa snapped to attention, squelching the thought as soon as it began.

  “What was that all about anyway, Tessa?” her mother asked. “Usually, you have no problem in front of the cameras. Was it the shoes? I know you’re friends with that designer, but the heels were way too high and pointy for those narrow steps.”

  “It wasn’t the shoes, Mom.” Tessa assumed her mother had been too overwhelmed by everything and everyone yesterday that she hadn’t noticed the not-so-discreet exit from the church. If Sherilee had c
aught wind of what had actually happened, it would’ve become an even bigger circus with medical specialists called in. Her mom had enough to worry about as it was. Tessa casually flicked her wrist. “We can talk about it later.”

  “Was it your foundation garments?” her mother continued, refusing to drop the subject. “You might want to switch to Spanx. They’re less likely to cut off your circulation.”

  “Good lord, Sherilee,” Freckles said. “Tessa wasn’t even wearing a girdle yesterday.”

  “I didn’t say girdle,” Sherilee whispered the last word. “That would’ve been beyond tacky to discuss in front of company.”

  Tessa, her face flaming and her head pounding, shot Finn a pleading look. Say something!

  “Oh, come on, Mom.” Finn might get a kick out of teasing her siblings, but when it came to anyone else doing the same, she was always the first to jump in and defend them. “Couldn’t you tell that Tessa had another one of her panic attacks yesterday?”

  “No!” Sherilee gasped and Tessa suddenly wished Finn hadn’t been so quick to stick up for her. “When did they come back? I thought you’d gotten beyond all that.”

  “I was beyond it, Mom. I mean I am beyond it. That’s all in my pa...pa... In my past.”

  Sherilee shot to her daughter’s side and pressed the back of her hand to Tessa’s forehead, as though checking for a fever. “All this stress is too much for you. Your neurologist said this could happen, but it’s been so long and you’ve worked so hard. You should stay on at the ranch. I’ll fly the speech therapist out. More press is going to mean more scrutiny. If your stutter comes back, you’re not going to want to be in front of a camera.”