A Texan for Hire (Welcome to Ramblewood)

by Amanda Renee

  “Ha, ha. There’s a place across from the Bark Park.”

  “Cowpokes.” Clay nodded.

  “Why don’t we go there after our lesson?” The casualness of Abby’s question made him feel like they were an old married couple.

  “I’m not going shoe shopping with you so I can hold your purse,” Clay said. “Plus, if you ever expect me to solve your case, I have to actually work.”

  “Fine, I’ll ask Bridgett. I need to stop in and see her mom anyway. Quirky woman, but then again, aren’t we all?”

  “Some more than others,” Clay jested.

  Abby swatted him from atop Olivia. Now would have been the perfect time to kiss her. They were alone, with no audience to heckle or cheer them on. But a kiss was out of the question. Wasn’t it?

  “I can’t believe I’m learning how to ride on the kids’ pony.”

  And the moment was gone. Dammit.

  “Welsh ponies are preferred by many adults. Someone my size can’t ride one, but there’s no reason why you can’t. They’re one of the more intelligent breeds and extremely surefooted, which makes them the perfect beginner horse.”

  “So what’s the first part of my lesson?”

  Clay moved closer to Abby, guiding her hands over the reins, showing her how to hold them loosely. The moment his skin made contact with hers, his pulse quickened and beads of sweat formed on the back of his neck.

  “Trust the horse over yourself. Your instinct will be to grip the reins tightly. That’ll only make for a very tense horse. If you remain relaxed, the horse will, too.” Advice he needed to follow himself.

  “What do you say, Olivia?” Abby patted the horse’s neck. “You ready to show Clay what we’re made of?”

  Clay laughed. Any nervousness she may have felt earlier was gone. In a matter of minutes, she’d taken to the animal, and he was glad one of them was calm because his nerves were more on edge than before an ATF raid.

  * * *

  “THANK YOU FOR the lesson.” Abby walked alongside Clay as they exited the barn after putting up the horse’s tack. “I appreciate you taking the time out of your day. Before I get out of your hair, may I use your bathroom? My bladder’s been jostled more than I can handle.”

  “I, uh, sure,” Clay said. “But please excuse the mess. I’m still trying to decide what to do with the downstairs, so there are quite a few boxes around.”

  She followed him into the house. A few boxes was the understatement of the year. While the kitchen was bare except for Clay’s files spread across the counter and the table, the dark dining room contained stacks of boxes, haphazardly scattered around the room. The living room was behind there somewhere, but she couldn’t see it. The blinds were closed, and with the exception of the kitchen light, barely any light filtered into the rooms.

  “The water closet’s right here.” Clay squeezed past Abby and opened a narrow door containing a toilet. “You’ll have to use the kitchen sink to wash up. The previous owner converted the pantry into a bathroom of sorts.”

  “Thanks.” Abby closed the door behind her. It was small but clean and that’s all that mattered.

  When she exited, she spotted Clay waiting for her near the stove. She peeked into the dining room again as she headed for the sink.

  “I hate unpacking,” Abby said as she washed her hands. “When I moved to Charleston, it took me months to find a place for everything. When did you move in?”

  When he didn’t answer, Abby looked up to see Clay staring at the Stetson in his hands. “Are you okay?”

  “This is embarrassing.” He took a deep breath and met her eyes. “I bought this place when I moved back to town three years ago.”

  “Oh.” Abby dried her hands on a dish towel hanging from a drawer handle. The house looked as if he had moved in yesterday. “Slow unpacker, huh?”

  “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” Clay ran his hand through his hair. “I’m not one of those hoarders you see on television.”

  “I’m not saying you are.” She wanted to ask questions, but she didn’t want to push him away. The darkness, the boxes, combined with the things she’d heard and the way he ran off on her, told Abby there was more to Clay’s story than just a broken heart. “I’m here if you want to talk.”

  He nodded, not offering any more details.

  “Again, I appreciate the lesson this morning.” She closed the short distance between them and gave him a quick hug goodbye. His arms encircled her, holding her close. This was the hug she had wanted the day they had met, only today Clay was the one who needed comforting.

  “Thank you, Abby,” Clay whispered against her hair.

  “Anytime.” She withdrew slightly and looked up at him. “I feel more and more that Walter knew I would come here when he wrote me that note. Especially after spending the afternoon at Dance of Hope. What I can’t figure out is if he knew I’d hire someone to help me.”

  “I don’t think I was part of his plans.” Clay eased his hold on her. “I do think there is some validity to your coming here. I can’t say for certain yet, but I believe a few people know something.” Clay’s hands slid from around her back and up to her shoulders. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I’m just going to lay it out. I’m attracted to you. I’m feeling things again I didn’t know were possible and it confuses the hell out of me. I broke the golden P.I. rule when I met you—an ethical investigator never gets personally involved with a client. You’re paying me to do a job and there I was, kissing you on stage at Slater’s Mill, and now I’m hugging you in my kitchen. I know it’s wrong, but I don’t know how to stop.”

  “Wh—what are you saying?” Did he want to be with her or was he walking away? Abby knew they didn’t have long-term potential, especially when she was scheduled to leave in a little over a week. That didn’t mean she wasn’t hopeful at the possibility of some sort of romance.

  Clay rubbed his jaw. “I excused it at first. I told myself I was infatuated with a woman who’d be in town just for a few days. Then yesterday when Kay offered you a job, my heart went from it’s not possible to dang, she’s obtainable in a matter of minutes. My brain’s telling me to focus on my job and keep my distance, when all I want to do is help you find the answers you’re looking for. Please, Abby, respect me enough to know I’ll do the best I can, but understand it may not be enough.”

  “I believe you.” She didn’t know why she placed all her faith in a virtual stranger, and it didn’t matter. The fact that Clay thought about stepping over the line for her told Abby all she needed to know. “But as far as moving to Ramblewood, Clay, I don’t think I can.”

  Clay gathered her into his arms, his hands locking against her spine. Dipping his mouth to hers, his lips touched hers. She softened against him, lifting her hands to his face, feeling the rough stubble of his morning beard in her palms. Her lips parted, her tongue leisurely exploring his. She stood on her toes, and Clay lifted her. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, allowing her to feel the full length of his arousal.

  With more urgency, Clay’s mouth hungrily claimed hers. Abby’s breath quickened, her breasts aching against his chest. Clay pulled back and stared into her eyes, his breath fanning her cheek.

  “If I don’t let you leave now, you never will.” Clay eased Abby onto her feet. “I want you, but not when I have to leave in a few minutes. When I make love to you, it will be slow and deliberate...and I promise we’ll both need the next day to recover.”

  “You’re very sure of yourself.” Abby fought to steady her shallow breaths.

  “I’m sure of only one thing, Abby. Whatever this is between you and me, it’s worth exploring. I hope you’ll decide to stay in Ramblewood because I’d hate to miss out on doing this for the rest of my life.”

  Abby chewed her bottom lip. Yeah, that love thing she hadn’t experie
nced, she was pretty sure this was how it started.

  Chapter Six

  After Abby left, Clay cooled off with a long cold shower. Halfway through, he heard singing, then realized it was his own voice. Laughing, he quickly dressed and made himself a cup of coffee to get his head back in the game.

  He ran a few background checks for the dating agency, then flipped through Abby’s file once again. One thing was strange about her birth certificate. In place of a hospital was an address, which wasn’t uncommon if a baby was born at home. To someone unfamiliar with birth certificates, they’d probably assume it was the hospital’s. Since Abby hadn’t mentioned it, Clay wondered if she even knew where she was physically born. But, it was this particular address that drew him in.

  “That’s out near Miranda and Jesse Langtry’s place.”

  Typing the address into his laptop, Clay fell backward in the chair when the results appeared on the screen.

  “Abby was born on Double Trouble.” Miranda had bought the ranch when she won the Maryland state lottery a few years ago. The former owners, Ed and Fran Carter had died in a car accident, and Fran’s sister had sold the entire estate to the highest bidder. Jesse Langtry, one of Kay’s sons, had been a horse trainer on Double Trouble since high school. He had planned to buy the ranch once the Carters retired. When Miranda outbid him, he had been devastated. Eventually, Miranda and Jesse had fallen for each other and married.

  Hmm. Abby had already been born by the time Jesse started working at Double Trouble. Mable Promise on the other hand, Miranda’s surrogate mother of sorts, had resided on Double Trouble way back when her husband had managed the place. She still lived there.

  Clay grabbed his phone off the counter and ran out the back door. A birth was a big event for a small town, yet he had never heard it mentioned. A heavy feeling formed in the pit of his stomach. Something definitely wasn’t right.

  He pulled into the Double Trouble Ranch a short time later and spotted Beau Bradley’s pickup parked near Mable’s small white cottage, which was nestled behind the main house.

  Rumor had it the widow and widower had a romance brewing. He knew them both well enough to presume he wasn’t interrupting an afternoon delight. His instincts told him their visit concerned Abby.

  Mable met Clay at the screen door. “If you come in here you keep your voice down,” she hissed. “I just got those young’uns down for a nap, and Lord help anyone who wakes them. They’ve been fussin’ all morning and Miranda is just about ready to come off her spool.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Clay removed his hat and stepped into the living room. Miranda and Jesse’s twins, Jackson and Slade, were a little over a year old, and true to Langtry form, rabble-rousers from day one.

  Beau appeared in the kitchen doorway and acknowledged Clay with a slight head nod. “What brings you around?”

  “I think you know, but I’ll ask anyway.” Clay directed his attention back to Mable, who hadn’t stopped wringing her hands since his arrival. “Abby Winchester—Beau knows who she is—as I’m sure you’ve heard, hired me to find her sister. Turns out Abby was born here, on Double Trouble almost twenty-eight years ago. Do you remember her parents?”

  Mable’s cinnamon-colored cheeks pinkened. “I was away visiting my brother that week. I heard about it when I returned. Her parents were long gone by then. I don’t know anything else.”

  “Nothing at all?” Mable was one of the most kind-hearted and honest people he knew, but her words seemed rehearsed and unnatural. He did find it interesting that Mable said the Davidsons had left town after the baby was born, because that part was true. During his preliminary research, Clay had noted Abby’s parents moved two days later. “Mable, think back. Did you ever hear the Carters or anyone discuss Abby’s family? Her father’s name was Walter Davidson and he was stationed at Randolph Air Force Base. Does that mean anything to you?”

  Mable shook her head and looked to Beau. “Did you know Walter Davidson or—” She turned back to Clay. “What is her mother’s name?”

  “Maeve.” Clay narrowed his eyes at Beau. “They rented an apartment in town. Someone must have known them, and Beau, I love you like a member of my own family, but I feel there’s something you’re purposely not telling me.”

  “What makes you say that?” The older man shifted slightly against the doorjamb.

  “You have this particular tell when you’re bluffing. I saw it the other night at Slater’s, right before you ran out on our conversation.”

  Beau stiffened. “What tell?” Clay noticed his old friend didn’t bother to deny ducking out on him.

  “If I told you, I wouldn’t be able to beat you at cards anymore.” He had the man’s attention now. “I’m good at my job. Whatever you’re hiding, I’ll find out anyway. Why not save us both the aggravation?”

  A muffled cry came from down the hallway.

  “That does it.” Mable swatted them both toward the door. “Out you go. I told you not to wake those babies, now get out of here.”

  Mable brusquely shoved Beau and Clay through the doorway. When Clay turned back, the screen slammed in his face.

  “That didn’t go as planned.” Clay sized up his old friend. “Beau, I respect you and I’m only going to ask you once, please don’t get in the middle of my investigation.”

  “The way I see it, you put me in the middle by confronting me.”

  “What are you so defensive about? What does Abby have to do with—” Clay smiled when the realization struck him. Beau had worked for the Carters back then. “You were here the night she was born, weren’t you?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Beau spat. “Leave this alone.”

  Before Clay could ask the man another question, Beau stormed off the porch and hurried to his truck. Within seconds, Clay was staring into a cloud of dust.

  “What got his dander up today?” Jesse called from the corral nearest the cottage. “He’s been in and out of here quite a bit lately.”

  Clay strode to the fence and watched Jesse lengthen the lunge rope as the horse he trained circled the pen. Jesse was the one Langtry brother who didn’t reside on Bridle Dance land.

  “Have you gotten around to sorting through those file boxes you found in the attic?” Clay asked.

  Jesse slowed the horse to a walk and tilted his hat off his face.

  “Are you kidding me? The boys will be grown and away at college before we get around to tackling that mess. Why?”

  “Mind if I poke around up there? I’m working a case, and it turns out the woman was born here, on your ranch. I’m hoping I might come across something...a diary, receipts or some clue leading me in the right direction.”

  “Are you talking about Abby?” Jesse shortened the lunge rope and walked the horse toward the fence.

  “Mable and Beau both worked here when Abby was born, yet neither of them admit to being around that day. They say they don’t remember her parents, and I believe they’re hiding the truth for whatever reason.”

  “Have at it.” Jesse nodded toward the house. “Miranda’s not home—she needed a baby break, so go on in. Be careful up there. I haven’t checked the floor out yet. If it’s anything like the downstairs, there might be a few weak boards. Have you talked to my mom? She knows everyone.”

  “Abby has, but the names didn’t ring a bell. She did find out that Alfred Anderson has boxes of photos from every Ramblewood function known to man. They’re going to go through them and see if Abby can find one of her parents.”

  “Good luck.” Jesse pulled his hat down low. “I’m going to take Majesty out with the herd and see how we do today. He’s been a slow learner. I have my phone on me in case you fall through the attic floor.”

  Clay laughed. “Gee, thanks.”

  He glanced toward Mable’s cottage before he headed toward the farm ho
use. The woman boldly stood in the doorway watching him. Why the secrecy surrounding Abby’s birth?

  * * *

  “HIT ME.” ABBY dropped onto one of the stools at the counter of The Magpie. “And a slice of pie. You choose the kind.”

  “I think there a few slices of lemon meringue left,” Bridgett said. “It’s been so busy here this morning I haven’t had a chance to get into the kitchen. I’d much rather be back there baking than up front any day.”

  “Are you really happy here?” Abby couldn’t understand why someone with the desire to bake stayed in a waitressing job. “Have you thought about cooking school?”

  “I can’t afford it.” Bridgett straightened her apron. “Not on this salary. I’m more the self-taught type anyway. College and trade school weren’t exactly on my radar.”

  “Fair enough.” Abby hated to see people settle, though, and a part of her wondered if that’s what she was doing by staying in Charleston. After Clay’s mind-numbing kiss earlier, followed by his declaration, she had decided she needed to get to work on that pros-and-cons list.

  “Be right back.” Bridgett twirled and glided toward the kitchen. No dance class in the world would give Abby the gracefulness Bridgett possessed.

  A minute later, she set a slice of pie on the counter. “My God,” Abby said. “There must be five inches of meringue on this thing.”

  “I swear every time Maggie makes it, she piles it higher.”

  “Who’s the new waitress?” Abby looked in the direction of a woman bussing a table near the front window.

  “That’s Lark Meadow. Like the name?” Bridgett cocked her head. “She rolled in to town yesterday on the bus. Walked in here with a guitar strapped to her back and Maggie hired her on the spot.”

  “Where’s she from?” Abby asked, happy she wasn’t the only newcomer in town.

  “New Mexico.” Bridgett poured Abby a cup of coffee. “Said she was on her way back there after auditioning in Nashville. Claims she sold everything she owned before leaving and doesn’t have a home to go to anymore. Maggie helped her rent a small studio apartment above the florist shop across the street. I suspect Maggie fronted the deposit and Lark will be paying it off for a long time to come.”