“It’s time to check out of my fine establishment.”
Dylan responded to the sheriff by trying to turn over onto his side away from him.
“C’mon, you know the drill. If you stay the night, I have to cite you.”
This time Dylan’s voice was stronger when he mumbled in response, but she didn’t understand the words.
“Aw, c’mon, Captain, I really don’t want to have to book you.”
Dylan opened his eyes and growled, “Don’t fuckin’ call me that.”
Zack’s lips drew into a fine line. “You will always be a captain, Quinn, just like I’ll always be a gunnery sergeant.”
“Fuck you, Cartwright.”
“Geez, Dylan, I think your momma should’ve washed your mouth out with soap more often. You should know that’s no way to talk in front of a lady.”
“Tracy’s my sister.” He sluggishly rolled to a sitting position with his head between his hands. “She’s heard me cuss plenty of times.”
“I wasn’t referring to Tracy.”
The look Dylan narrowed at the sheriff should have scorched his blond hair. Charli’s breath caught when his blistering gaze moved from Zack to her. “What’s she doing here?”
Zack bracketed his waist with his hands and widened his stance. “I couldn’t get hold of Tracy, so I called Miss Monroe. She was kind enough to come down here to get your sorry butt out of the clinker.”
Unsteadily, Dylan stood and moved around the sheriff to stop before her. “I don’t need or want your help.”
The stench of whiskey burned her nose and twisted her already uneasy belly. She straightened her back. “That’s just too damned bad, isn’t it?”
He locked his eyes onto hers for a long moment before turning away with a huff and dropping on the cot. “Why don’t you just go back to your ranch and leave me the hell alone. I quit.”
The sheriff looked upon him with a careworn expression.
She said, “Sheriff, would you please excuse us?”
Zack regarded her for a moment with his lips pressed into a thin line before nodding and leaving them in the open cell.
She put her fists on her hips and squared her shoulders. “I won’t let you quit. I need you to fix my house and run my ranch.”
After standing again, he took a threatening step toward her, but she matched his glower with one of her own. “Why do you care? Hell, why are you even pretending to fix the place up? Ferguson’s gonna get it anyway.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged and ran his hands through his disheveled hair. “Oh, come on, Charli. The flowers, the constant checking up on you...the date.”
“How do you–”
“It doesn’t matter.” He cut her off and stepped so close she could see the bloodshot veins in his wintry eyes. “Leon Ferguson’s a parasite. The longer he’s there, the more hold he has on the ranch–and on you.”
She worked to keep her anger from her voice. “Leon isn’t going to get my ranch. He wants me, not my land.”
For a moment, he looked as if she’d slapped him. He shook his head and let out a bitter laugh. “You aren’t all he wants. Trust me on that one, sweetheart. Ferguson wants your land, and if he gets a woman almost half his age in the sack in the bargain, it’s just one more perk. Shit.” He shook his head and backed away. “If he can’t swindle you out of the land, he’ll marry you for it, and when he’s tired of you, he’ll throw you away. But he’ll make damn sure he keeps the ranch.”
He turned away from her for a moment before looking back. “I never expected you to be a woman who could so easily fall for a smooth talker like Ferguson.”
Her anger boiled over. “You’re a jerk. Leon has been nothing but a gentleman.” She spun on her boot heel and headed for the open cell door. “And if something develops between us and leads to marriage...so be it.”
She should just fire him and cut her losses. Maybe if she tried, she could love Leon. Damn it, she didn’t want to love any man, not Leon and, especially, not Dylan Quinn.
Zack Cartwright’s words echoed through her mind, reminding her of her promise to herself to help Dylan.
She moved through the cell door and glanced over her shoulder. “Come on. I refuse to jeopardize my dreams because my manager is a total jackass.”
Chapter 8
Charli sat on the very edge of the luxury seat and gaped out the tinted window of the limousine. A gold-painted helicopter, with the black logo for Ferguson Industries on its tail, readied for takeoff.
After the limo came to a stop in front of a portico, she waited for the driver to open the door.
Leon helped her out of the car. “Good evening, Charli.”
“So, this is how we’re able to get to Dallas and still have time for dinner.”
With his hand resting on the small of her back, he led her toward the helicopter. “You didn’t think we’d drive to Dallas, did you?”
“I sure as heck didn’t expect to fly there.”
Leon laughed as they stopped just outside the swath of the blades. A crewmember rushed forward and helped them board.
Once inside and buckled in, Leon spoke to the pilot through the microphone of a headset. Soon they rose quickly into the air.
When the helicopter turned and headed north, Leon removed the headset and leaned close. “You’re a vision.”
At first, she didn’t grasp his meaning. “Thanks. I must have tried on ten dresses.”
“The dress is lovely, but not nearly as beautiful as the woman wearing it.”
A giggle escaped from her lips before she could corral it. Heat burned her cheeks, and she ducked her head to look out the window by her side. With the setting sun in the west, the vista was breathtaking. His come-ons were laughable, and she wasn’t falling for them. However, she’d play along. She couldn’t deny she enjoyed hearing his flattery just as much as she loved his gifts. “Oh, you. Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“I state only the truth.” As he spoke, Leon pulled a long jewelry box from his suit pocket. “This is for you.”
She stared at him before slowly reaching for the black box. “Leon, whatever this is, you shouldn’t have.”
“Yes, I should. I did. Now open it.”
Her hands shook as she opened the velvet lid. She gasped and put a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God! Leon, I can’t accept this.”
Leon reached over, took the delicate strand of gleaming diamonds and held it up. “Yes, you can. I’m giving it to you. I ask nothing of you in return, except the chance to get to know you.” He leaned closer and put the necklace around her neck. Their gazes locked, and Leon was close enough to kiss–if she yearned to do so. She trembled as his fingers brushed her skin under her hair while he fastened the closure.
Although the hunger in his eyes frightened her a little, excitement filled her as his lips met hers for a passionate kiss. Despite all her vows of not wanting a man, she wanted to fall for him. He was the right man to love, unlike the one she was so afraid she’d fallen for.
He deepened the kiss as he pulled her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, but she couldn’t make her heart follow her head.
* * * *
Dylan’s gut twisted as Charli drove away in the limo. He pounded his fist into the doorframe of the stable and headed into the dim interior. He had to do something, anything to get her off his mind. He’d tried to keep his distance the past few days, but she was still there, wanting to be his friend.
Maybe she did.
He wished she could be more.
Aurora, Charli’s usual mount, whinnied several times as he led the black mare out into the breezeway. When the sorrel kicked at her stall, he called out, “Sorry, girl, Charli’s not riding with me. She’s too busy being wined and dined out of her clothes and her land.”
His belly did that twisting thing again. She doesn’t want you, hotshot. Face it and let it go.
He went about saddling the mare C
harli had named Artemis. He swung up into the saddle, and his phone rang as he trotted out into the cool evening. After looking at the caller ID and not recognizing the number, he put the phone back into his jeans pocket and headed for the pasture to check on the calves. A few of them had acted odd when he and Kyle had ridden out onto the range to check on them earlier that afternoon.
The sun had set and daylight was fading fast. Calves bawled in the distance and night insects chirped in the grass. A coyote howled somewhere in the descending darkness. Artie snorted and he checked for the .357 stashed in the belt of his jeans at his back. “Sorry, girl, I should’ve taken one of the four-wheelers out here.”
They’d plodded along another hundred yards when he noticed the outlines lying in the tall grass.
“Whoa.” He reined in beside one of the dark lumps. After dismounting, he patted the nervous horse on the shoulder. “It’s all right, Artie.”
The calf lay on his side, attempted to lift his head and bawled pitifully as Dylan knelt beside him. Big, dark eyes rolled back in the calf’s skull. “Hey, buddy, what’s the matter?” He gently placed his hand on the steer’s heaving, bloated belly. It struggled to breathe, coat damp with sweat. “Hang in there. I’ll get you help.”
He stood and examined the other ten calves lying in the grass. Some seemed unusually agitated while others panted like dogs in the dead of August heat, but the evening was cool for this time in mid-May.
Although he didn’t hold much hope for the steers, he pulled out his cellphone and called the veterinarian, then dialed Kyle’s number. When he didn’t pick up, Dylan left a frustrated message, and then called Zack Cartwright.
* * * *
“Sir! Sir, you can’t barge into the dining...”
Dylan ignored the maitre d’ just as he’d paid no attention to the man’s reprimands for not having the proper dress when he rushed into the exclusive hotel and restaurant. He didn’t want to think about the place being a hotel, and prayed Charli was still eating her fancy dinner.
Leon had flown her to Dallas in his private helicopter, but that was over three hours ago. Dylan hadn’t actually considered the time until he pulled into the parking lot and threatened the valet when he warned him he couldn’t park his truck in the lot unless he had reservations at the inn.
Every head in the place turned to stare at him as he rushed through a glitzy dining room. Several women even gasped and covered their mouths with bejeweled hands. Did his dirty cowboy boots and jeans disgust them?
When he didn’t spot Charli among the late diners, he turned on the frail-looking man following him. “Where’s Leon Ferguson?”
“That’s privileged information–”
“Don’t give me that bullsh–” He interrupted himself when another round of gasps filled the air thick with expensive perfumes and rich foods. It wouldn’t do to be arrested before he even found her. He forced a semblance of cold reason and the authority thirteen years in the Army had bestowed on him into his voice. “I’m the manager of the ranch Mr. Ferguson’s companion owns. There’s an emergency. I need to speak to Miss Monroe immediately.”
The maitre d’ still hesitated. When Dylan wouldn’t budge, the penguin suit relented with a sigh. “This way.”
He followed him down a hall to the private dining rooms. They stopped before an ornate double door, and he didn’t wait to be announced. He pushed past the maitre d’ and headed into the room.
The intimate ambiance spoke of Leon’s wealth and success. Dylan ignored the string quartet playing soft music in the corner, the flowers and the candles. Leon stood and glowered at him, while Charli sat there with wide eyes and her mouth hanging slightly ajar.
The penguin rushed in behind him and groveled to Leon about the interruption of his dinner.
He ignored both men. “Charli, I need to speak with you.”
“What are you doing here?” Leon asked stiffly.
She blinked and closed her mouth. He realized, with a jolt, she didn’t look disappointed or even angry at seeing him. She seemed surprised mostly, and then he noticed a hopeful twinkle in her turquoise eyes.
You’re crazy, Quinn. She’s not glad to see you. She’s thinking of ways to fire your ass. He got down to business. “You have to come home.”
She frowned. “How did you know where to find me?”
He swallowed the thick lump forming in his throat. “I overheard you talking the other night.”
“What’s so important you couldn’t have called?”
“I didn’t want to call about this. The calves...”
“My calves? Dylan, what’s happened?”
He kneeled beside her chair. She might not have named the steers, but she cared about her calves. He’d caught her watching them play in the pastures more than once. “Some of them are sick. We think they were poisoned.”
“Poisoned?” Her voice went shrill and then broke. “How?” She swallowed and puckered her brow. “Who’s we?”
He took her hand into his. Her grasp was moist as she clasped his fingers. “Dr. Evans, the vet, thinks they got hold of some jimsonweed.”
“Jimsonweed?” She turned in her chair to face him fully. “I thought it was some kind of hallucinogen drug.”
He took her other hand and held both of them as they trembled within his. “It is. Or can be used as one. Sometimes it’s called thorn apple or devil’s trumpet. If livestock eat enough, it could kill them.” He squeezed her hands, willed her his support. “Charli, your horse, Aurora–”
“Is she sick, too?” Her eyes misted, but she blinked before the tears splashed onto her pale cheeks. She wore very little makeup, but then, she didn’t need it.
“Yeah.” He would tell her later about Doc Evan’s prognosis concerning the mare’s new pregnancy.
“Kyle never said anything after feeding the horses today. Where could my calves and horses get this stuff?”
Leon had stood quietly watching them until now. He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Usually in pasture, especially overgrazed pasture. The other place is in feed–silage and hay.”
Charli looked over her shoulder at Leon. “But my pastures aren’t overgrazed.”
“Hay, then.”
“The hay you bought last week.” She snapped her attention to Dylan. The accusation in her gaze and voice stung more than he’d ever admit.
He could only nod and looked down at their clasped hands.
“But the calves haven’t been fed much hay, have they?”
“Not much, but with all the rain the past week, some of the better pastures are too wet. I had Kyle supplement with hay.”
The dark green of the sheath dress made her eyes all the more luminous. Candlelight twinkled off the diamond necklace around her neck. He was sure she hadn’t been wearing it earlier when he’d seen her before she’d left in Ferguson’s limousine.
“I have to get back to the ranch.” She stood and looked at Leon. He slipped his hand around her waist.
The large ruby signet on his ring finger glittered in the yellow glow of hundreds of candles. The ring had been passed down for generations in the Ferguson family and by all rights should belong to his mother. The sight angered him, but not as much as Leon touching Charli fired his gut. Possessiveness for her boiled through him.
She looked up at Leon, but didn’t step away. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
“Of course, we can leave immediately.” Leon retrieved his phone from his suit pocket. “Let me call the driver to meet us and have the helicopter ready for takeoff.”
Dylan had broken every speed law between Colton and Dallas to get there in an hour and a half. Leon could have her home within a few minutes.
He headed for the door. “I’ll see you back at the ranch.”
“No. Dylan, wait.”
He turned, and she stepped out of Leon’s embrace. Charli took Leon’s hand and smiled, but it looked forced. “Thank you, Leon, for a wonderful evening. But I’ll go home with Dylan. After all, he came all
the way into the city to inform me of the emergency, and on the way back, he can tell me what we need to do to fix it.”
“Hopefully we can have dinner again,” Leon said pleasantly, sliding the phone away.
Dylan jerked his head up at the challenge in the older man’s eyes when Leon glanced at him.
“Yes, I hope so, too. I had a great time.” Charli turned to Dylan and took his hand. “Let’s go.”
“Charli,” Leon called, and she paused to look at him. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll do whatever I can.”
“I’ll call you. Thanks for everything.” She touched the necklace at her throat.
Dylan’s heart sank a little farther. He’d never be able to afford such a gift. He tried to let her hand go, but she clung to it as she tugged him through the door.
He led her to the old pickup that looked as out of place in the parking lot as he had in the dining room where she had sparkled as much as the crystal.
Chapter 9
Neither Dylan nor Charli spoke much during the drive home. He waited for her to ask him how any of this could happen, but she never did. As soon as they pulled into the driveway, she asked, “Who took care of my sick animals while you came to Dallas?”
He parked the truck in front of the garage. “When I couldn’t get hold of Kyle, I called Zack Cartwright.”
“The sheriff? Do you think someone did this to my animals?”
He hoped she didn’t fuss about him not calling Ferguson’s men. “No, I guess you could say I asked Zack to help us out. He’s your neighbor, too. Did you forget you share a four-mile boundary with the Cartwrights?”
She shook her head.
He cut the engine, leaned against the steering wheel, and stared out into the darkness. “I needed someone to move the calves in closer to the barn while I came to you. I trust Zack and his men. The sick ones are quarantined in the barn corral, and the others are in the pasture behind the bunkhouse where I can watch them for signs of sickness.”
“Have any of them died?”
He met her imploring eyes. “Not yet.”
“But you think some will.”
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