The Charmer in Chaps

by Julia London

  Ella was still breathing hard. When she couldn’t see his car anymore, she climbed over the shiplap, grabbed her phone, and saw she’d missed a call from Stacy. She punched the button to call her back.

  Stacy was going to die.

  Chapter Four

  Ella Kendall.

  The memory of the senior dance had come roaring back to him like some forgotten dream. Luca couldn’t really recall her in any other setting, but the moment she’d mentioned that kiss, the pieces had all drifted into place, and he’d remembered. She was so pretty that night. Her dark hair was long and sleek, and she’d worn a simple black dress with a high neck. All the other girls had been dressed in sparkly, strapless pastels, their hair done up in elaborate coifs and held in place with more sparkle. Ella Kendall had stood out in her unembellished way.

  Luca had taken Naomi Peterson to that dance, he remembered, a first and last date with the cheerleader. Naomi had flirted shamelessly with him in homeroom, and she had pretty brown eyes and platinum blonde hair, and—this was important to a seventeen-year-old male—big boobs. But Naomi had turned out to be a clingy, whiny girl who was darkly jealous of any attention he paid anyone else—even Hallie. He remembered getting Brandon to dance with Naomi just so he could breathe, then escaping that pastel sea of girls, but stumbling over Ella on his way. Had she been standing in the corner? It seemed like it. He’d taken her by the hand—or had she taken his? Had either of them said anything? He didn’t remember them talking. What he remembered was her slender hand in his, and stepping out on the dance floor for a slow dance.

  He couldn’t remember how or why he’d kissed her either. Probably just the constant revving of male hormones in him. He couldn’t remember if he’d spoken to her before he kissed her, or if she’d just looked up at him with those pretty blue eyes . . . but he remembered that kiss. That surprising bit of heat beneath the mirror ball. Not a piñata, a mirror ball, because he could still see the little squares of light passing over her pretty face.

  She was in one of his classes, wasn’t she? Lyle said algebra. A class Luca practically slept through. And he remembered seeing her a Friday night or two on the main drag, come to think of it. With who? Mariah? Yes, Mariah. It was coming back to him—Ella was always in the back seat. She was a back seat kind of girl.

  So that girl in the simple black gown with the oval face and pretty blue eyes was the same exotic creature he’d found on a county road wearing snow boots. She wasn’t as thin as she had been in high school, but neither was he. Ella looked healthier now, all curves and glowing skin and shapely legs. And she was even prettier. Still in a simple, natural way. Nothing about her was made up. It was all right there. What you see is what you get, the perfect shape of a woman, and damn, he was attracted to her.

  He was definitely looking forward to fixing that porch ceiling for her.

  It was curious that she’d ended up in the middle of nowhere. Was she alone except for the dog and the pig? It was a pleasant little mystery he looked forward to solving. In the meantime, he would amuse himself with the image of her eyes and messy long brown hair, and the way those legs stretched a mile down the road.

  He was still thinking about her when he arrived at the ranch. His sister, Hallie, was on her way out, dressed in a very short blue dress, her strawberry blond hair in a messy bun at her nape. “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “Girls’ night,” she said. “What’s up with you?”

  “Not much.” He looked curiously at his sister. “Hey . . . do you remember Ella Kendall from high school?”

  “Ella Kendall?” She thought a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I think so. She was pretty, right? But quiet. And very good at math.”

  “How do you remember that?” he asked, surprised.

  “I don’t know,” she said with a shrug. “I just do. Why are you asking about her?”

  “I ran into her,” he said vaguely. He wasn’t going to confess to Hallie the whole thing and how he hadn’t remembered Ella at first. “I don’t think she particularly likes me,” he mused, more to himself than to his twin.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, she doesn’t like me,” he said, and gestured to himself.

  Hallie laughed. Actually, she howled.

  “Okay, it’s not that funny,” Luca said, and when Hallie didn’t stop laughing, he demanded, “What is the matter with you?”

  “I’m just as astounded as you that there is a woman walking this earth who’s not falling all over herself for your studly body, Luca! What is happening right now? What universe is this?”

  “Okay,” he said, nodding as his sister doubled over with laughter. “All right. Laugh all you want. But even you have to admit it doesn’t happen often.” He started to walk toward the house.

  “Bye, Luca! Try not to cry yourself to sleep, because your eyes will be puffy in the morning!”

  He rolled his eyes and walked on, muttering under his breath about the things he had to put up with around here.

  * * *

  • • •

  The next morning, Luca called Brandon and arranged a happy hour meeting to talk more about the fund-raiser they were planning to get the ball rolling on Brandon’s acreage near China Grove.

  Three Rivers had only a few restaurants—most people wanting a night on the town splurged and went to San Antonio. There was a Mexican food diner on one end, Jo’s Java in the middle, a couple of chain restaurants out on the highway. The closest they got to fine dining out here was the Magnolia Bar and Grill. It sat on the banks of the river, beneath the droopy branches of cypress trees and atop a gradual slope down to the river’s edge. On summer nights, people would come out with their dogs and put blankets on the grass and listen to free music.

  Luca was a little early and was texting Brandon as he walked into the restaurant to let him know he’d arrived. He hit the send button, then looked at the hostess. He was startled speechless for a split second, because Ella was standing behind the hostess stand. “Oh. Hi,” he said.

  She stared at him. Then she frowned playfully. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously what?” he asked.

  “You keep showing up where I am.”

  “Actually, you keep appearing wherever I am,” he countered. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

  She gave him a once-over. “Part-time,” she said. “But I’ve never seen you in here before.”

  “I don’t come around that often. But tonight, I’m meeting a friend.” He smiled.

  Ella looked around. “Do you see her?”

  “Him,” he said smugly. “And no, he’s not here yet. I’m early.”

  “Okay,” she said, and picked up menus. “Would you like to be seated?”

  “I’d rather stand here and talk to you.”

  “Nope,” she said without hesitation, and her eyes, he thought, looked like they were shining with a tiny bit of delight.

  “It’s early,” he pointed out. “And you look like you’re just standing around right now. Why not?”

  “No,” she said again.

  He sighed. “Fine. I’ll go to the bar. Come over and I’ll buy you a prickly pear margarita.”

  “Very funny,” she said, and pointed at the bar. There it was again, that dance of amusement in her eyes.

  Sent off like a kid to time out, Luca went to the bar and took a seat. The bartender, a dark-haired, slender man with a full beard asked him what he wanted. “Do you have an IPA on tap?” he asked.

  “Yep. Brewed in Austin.”

  Luca nodded. As the bartender poured the beer, Luca glanced over his shoulder at Ella. She was writing something on the seating chart.

  “Don’t waste your time,” the bartender said.

  “Huh?” Luca turned around as the bartender slid the beer across to him.

  “She’s hot, but she is a tough nut.”
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br />   Luca glanced at Ella, then at the bartender. “What do you mean?”

  “Foster care kid,” he said with a shrug, and tapped his chest. “She holds it all close, and it’s tough to get to know her.” He grinned. “Trust me, I tried.”

  Foster care. That was a surprise and a new one for Luca—he couldn’t recall ever knowing anyone from foster care.

  “But she’s definitely hot,” the bartender said, and moved on.

  “Luca!”

  Luca swiveled around on his barstool with a grin for Brandon. They’d been best friends since almost before he could remember. The Hurst family ranch bordered the Prince land on the north side. Brandon was shorter than Luca and had a barrel chest that came from lifting a lot of weight. He had an infectious grin that Luca was sure helped him in court. Brandon came from a long line of ranchers and lawyers. His dad was a personal injury attorney—Thomas J. Hurst was one of the most successful personal injury attorneys in the state. There had been a lot of pressure for Brandon to follow his father into injury law, but Brandon had bucked his father and had gone into environmental law.

  “Dude,” Brandon said, and clasped Luca’s hand, then chest-bumped him. To the bartender he said, “I’ll have what he’s having.”

  “How are you?” Luca asked.

  “Great,” Brandon said. As they waited for his beer, they caught up. When the bartender returned, Brandon tossed a twenty onto the bar. “Let’s get a table.”

  Ella showed them to a table near the windows. She was handing them menus when they heard a loud, deep male voice.

  Luca knew instantly who it was and suppressed a groan. Blake Hurst, Brandon’s older brother, the sheriff of Cimarron County, was standing at the hostess stand in civilian clothing. Back in the day, Blake frequently tortured Brandon and Luca. He used to pinch them and twist their arms, all in the name of fun, but always to the point of pain. When they got a little older, Blake tortured them in other ways.

  “What’s he doing here?” Luca asked Brandon as Ella made her way back to the hostess stand.

  “No clue,” Brandon said. “I haven’t talked to him in a while.”

  Luca had always suspected that Brandon disliked Blake as much as he did, but Brandon was a Texan, and blood ran pretty thick around here.

  Blake spotted them. He waved lazily, then leaned against the hostess stand and spoke to Ella as his gaze unabashedly wandered her body.

  Luca didn’t appreciate the way Blake was leering at Ella. He waved Blake over just to force his lustful gaze away from her. Ella picked up a menu and led Blake to their table, and he sauntered along behind, openly ogling her ass. Pig.

  “Hello, Blake,” Luca said coolly when the sheriff reached the table.

  “Fucking Luca Prince,” Blake said, and clapped him hard on the shoulder, squeezing as hard as he could. “Buying my dinner tonight?”

  “Wasn’t planning on it,” Luca said.

  “Come on, you’ve got more money than a Russian oligarch. Help a public servant out.”

  “Knock it off, Blake,” Brandon said, and cast an apologetic smile at Ella.

  “Then maybe you will buy it, bro. You been avoiding me, or what?”

  Ella smiled thinly and laid the menu down on the table.

  “Ella, I should have introduced you,” Luca said, standing up. “This is Brandon Hurst, and his brother Blake.”

  “That’s Sheriff Hurst to you,” Blake said, and slapped Luca on the back.

  “Hi, Ella,” Brandon said.

  “Welcome to the Magnolia,” she responded, and with a ghost of a smile, she walked away.

  “How do you know her?” Brandon asked Luca as Blake put himself in a chair.

  “Went to high school with her.”

  “Nice,” Blake said. “Did you graduate?” He laughed.

  “Don’t be such a dick, Blake,” Brandon said quietly.

  “Oh, come on, I’m just teasing our old friend,” Blake said, and once again, put his hand on Luca’s shoulder and squeezed.

  Luca shrugged him off and looked at the menu. “Are you going to join us, Blake?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” Blake said, and tossed his menu at Luca. “Read the specials to me.”

  Very few people in Luca’s life knew that he couldn’t read. Unfortunately, Blake Hurst was one of them.

  “Read it yourself,” Luca said, and shoved the menu back at him.

  “Come on, Luca, read me the specials,” Blake mocked him, and laughed as if they were all enjoying a hilarious joke. Brandon didn’t laugh, and when Luca didn’t pick up the menu, Blake retrieved it. “Just kidding around with you, Luca. You don’t have to be so sensitive. But one of these days you’re going to have to get that little problem fixed.”

  “Leave him alone, Blake,” Brandon said.

  Blake laughed. “No hard feelings, Luca. Look, don’t sweat it. I’ll read the specials to you.”

  “Fuck off,” Brandon snapped.

  “All right, all right,” Blake said, and held up both hands in surrender. “Don’t everybody get their panties in a wad.” He grinned at the two of them and tossed aside the menu. “I’ll let you two bricks have your dinner. I stopped in for a drink.” He stood up and hitched up his pants, and with a survey of the dining room, he walked toward the bar. Fortunately, Ella was not at the hostess stand when he went by it.

  Luca stared at the letters swimming around his menu. He felt like a child again, brought to the front of the class and humiliated by his inability to make sense of the letters he was supposed to put together into some sort of recognizable word. He was much better now, thanks to Karen, but at the moment, he couldn’t make much out because he was seething. It had always been like this with Blake. Always needling them, always pushing them.

  “Sorry about that,” Brandon said sheepishly.

  Luca smiled at his old friend. All their lives, Blake had made fun of Luca’s inability to read and Brandon’s weight. He was a bully. “Forget it,” he said. He didn’t want to think about it. “So get this—I’ve been in touch with the King Ranch Institute,” he said, referring to a ranch management program. “They’re interested in our plans for restoring pasture land and would participate in the fund-raiser.”

  “Fantastic,” Brandon said.

  Blake was forgotten as they ordered dinner and chatted about their project and fund-raising goals. They were looking at a late spring date for the fund-raiser. “Let’s have it at Three Rivers,” Luca suggested.

  Brandon’s brows lifted to his hairline. “Does Mama Prince know about this?”

  “Not yet,” Luca said with a grin.

  When they’d paid their bill, Brandon and Luca strolled out of the dining room. At the hostess desk, Brandon stepped into the bar to say something to Blake. Ella glanced up at Luca as he waited.

  “Got a hammer?” he asked.

  “You don’t need to hammer your way out of here. I’ll open the door for you.”

  He smiled. “You’re going to need one when we tackle that porch.”

  “Oh, right, the porch,” she said, and leaned across her reservation book. “I thought that was all talk, cowboy.”

  “Nope. We’re going to do it,” Luca said. “I’ll call you.”

  “Uh-huh,” Ella said as a couple walked up to the hostess stand. “I’m not holding my breath.” She turned away from him and said to the couple, “Welcome to the Magnolia.”

  Maybe the bartender was right—Ella was a tough nut. Fortunately for Luca, he appreciated that in a woman.

  Luca and Brandon went on to San Antonio to meet up with some girls that Brandon knew. Luca always enjoyed a good flirt, but that evening, he kept seeing Ella Kendall’s eyes sparkling at him, whether she meant them to or not. He spent the night at his loft, and the next morning, he went by his dealership and let Victor’s resentment at his lack of manageri
al skills wash over him before heading back to the ranch. He had in mind to call Ella and arrange that porch date.

  He drove down the tree-lined road to the compound, pulled around to the garages, and entered his personal garage. He was surprised to see Nick’s pickup. Nick rarely came out to the house. He’d once confessed to Luca that after running the Prince family business all day—Dad considered himself “retired,” which meant he meddled when he wanted to, disappeared when he didn’t—the last thing Nick wanted to do was come out to the ranch and talk about it. He preferred his ranch house on the banks of the river on another section of Prince land.

  Luca got out of his car and hooked it up to charge. When he stepped out onto the paved path to the house, he heard Nick call him. He turned around and saw Nick jogging his way up from the stables.

  “Hey, bro,” Luca said. “Just in time for happy hour. I’ve got some tequila that will put hair on your chest.”

  Nick didn’t smile. He stared at Luca, his lips pressed together. He was stiff, like something hurt, and Luca’s first thought was that maybe he’d put his back out. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “Luca . . .” Nick’s voice trailed off, and he glanced away for a moment.

  His demeanor was so unlike Nick that Luca instinctively knew—a shiver of dread ran down his spine. “Is it Grandma?” he asked. He didn’t know why he said it, but something awful had happened, someone had died, and she was the logical one.

  But Nick shook his head, and his clear blue eyes filled with tears. “It’s Dad.”

  Chapter Five

  Charlie Prince’s last day on mortal earth was spent playing a high-stakes golf match with his best buddies. On the fourteenth hole, they said Charlie dropped an impossible eight-foot putt for five hundred dollars with skill he had never before possessed. And then he dropped, his brown eyes fixed on the sky above, the stogie still clamped between his teeth. It was quick, it was sudden, and it was devastating to everyone who knew him.

  The memorial for Charlie went off without a hitch, in spite of the hundreds of mourners who’d tromped out to Three Rivers Ranch to ogle one of Texas’s most revered families in their time of grief.