The Troubled Texan

by Phyliss Miranda

  “You watch too much Law and Order. It’s fiction, honey. Relax. There has to be someone around who just resembles Hunter.” He tucked her close to him. “Let’s make a pact. I’ll worry about Hunter and you can concentrate on the good things. Your new business and plans for the future.”

  Her business. The future. Both sounded great to Rainey, although she wasn’t all that sure that regardless of how hard she tried if she could put her worst nightmare behind her. She had no reason to think Hunter was not in prison and she could be happy with the possibilities of Deuce being a temporary—dern it, even a permanent fixture in her life.

  Suddenly another thought stabbed her well-being. Hunter had threatened that he’d have someone on the outside do the dirty work for him. . . . She was not out of danger, even with the maniac in San Quentin.

  Deuce took her arm and guided her to the living room.

  Although it was late spring, the night was cool enough for a fire. In short order, he had orange flames dancing in the fireplace. Deuce settled next to Rainey on the couch and put his arm around her shoulders. “That’ll cut the chill a bit.”

  She relaxed, sinking into his warm embrace. Having him nearby eased her worry some. “Deuce, just being able to talk to you about this nightmare is such a relief.” Her hand rested on his thigh. “I feel so safe when I’m with you.”

  “I know where you could feel safer.” He nibbled on her ear, planting a row of kisses down her neck.

  “In your bed?”

  “Good suggestion.” He laughed just as his cell phone rang in the distance. “Damn it.”

  He kissed her lightly on the forehead and retrieved his iPhone. Checking the caller ID, he quietly said, “I have to take this,” before answering. “Hey lady, I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight. What’s happenin’ in Amarillo?” He ambled into the darkness of the kitchen.

  Silence hung in the air as he obviously listened to the caller, before responding. “Sounds great, but I can’t wait much longer. I’ve got to get some relief.” He stopped to listen. “I’ve had things to deal with or you know I would have been there.”

  He moved deeper into the darkness, lowering his voice, but not to where Rainey couldn’t hear. “As bad as I need it—” He quieted, apparently listening. “I know, but, sugar, I’ll be okay until I can see you.” Again he waited. “I know it’s been weeks.”

  Again, silence from the kitchen.

  Rainey tried to busy herself by fluffing a corduroy accent pillow and tried not to watch Deuce, but failed miserably.

  “Allura, stop nagging. I’ll be there as soon as I can fit you in and you know you’re the only one who I trust—” His voice faded, losing its steely edge.

  At hearing the name “Allura,” Rainey’s blood started to boil. Surely not that Allura! How many hot-to-trot ex-cheerleaders who spread her legs for more than a cheer were named Allura? And now she lived only sixty miles away in Amarillo.

  Rainey closed her eyes and tried to check her fledgling feelings. Something clicked in her mind. Deuce had been playing with her, while thoughts of his ex-girlfriend controlled his cravings. No wonder the Sadie Hawkins dance memory came out of the blue. But then the man had always been drawn to the flirty-skirty bimbo like a weasel to a chicken coop.

  The sound of Deuce at the refrigerator made Rainey open her eyes. She glanced in his direction, observing that he was listening to the person on the other end of the phone.

  “Thanks, hon,” Deuce finally said. “It’s been way too long, and I’m definitely ready for one of your special treatments. Next time, promise I’ll pay double.” The light from the refrigerator cast a soft glow across the kitchen floor. “Yeah, I know you’d never charge me, but after all business is business.”

  Had the prettiest girl in the class, the one voted most likely to succeed, gone from being a dime tramp to a dollar hooker? And Rainey had nearly lost control and given herself to one of Allura’s playthings.

  Thank goodness for Fat-Cat, who saved her from making the biggest mistake of her life—having sex with a pretty playboy who seemed to have the philosophy that if he couldn’t be with the one he loved, he’d love the one he was with.

  Rainey rose from the couch and marched to the bookcase. Switching on the iPod, George Strait crooned through the speakers about all of his ex’s living in Texas. She switched off the music and opened a bound volume of The Outcasts of Poker Flat.

  “Did you ever read Bret Harte?” Deuce’s voice called from behind.

  Warm, needy lips seared a path down her neck, her shoulders. The harder she tried to ignore his caresses, the more insistent his kisses became, making it difficult to drag herself back to sensibility.

  She clapped the book shut. “Sure, he’s classic. Wrote about the rude, lawless Gold Rush days and wild-woolly women. . . .” She shelved the book. “Exactly what I’d expect to interest you.”

  “Come here.” Deuce tantalized her shoulder with kisses, while slowing backing her across the room toward the couch. “I’ve been thinking.”

  “I have, too, Deuce.” She slipped to the couch, putting a distance between them. “Upstairs you asked if I was positive about what we were doing and I said yes.”

  “It wasn’t exactly in those words, but I got the idea—”

  “I’m positive, but not like you think. I’m positive it’d be a big mistake.”

  “And now you tell me?”

  “I’m not even sure if I should stay in Kasota Springs. I don’t know where I’m going to find enough antiques to start up the business.”

  “Rainey, don’t do this to us.”

  “Deuce, there is no us. We were on the verge of having a quickie under the cloak of darkness, and eventually we’d be sorry.” She bit at her lip. “It’d ruin our friendship.”

  “I had no intention of it being a quickie, Rai.” His meaning was unmistakable. “We can make it work.”

  “I’m not sure what I want, but a midnight interlude isn’t it. Maybe I should go to Europe and be with my parents. I’ve got to have my space.” She stared at the fire watching the flames leap and flicker.

  “Before you go that far, give this some thought.” Deuce went on to tell her that he had a friend that was selling out his hardware store in a nearby town and he could get his hands on some fixtures. “So all I have to do is give Robert a call and have the gondolas and display cabinets sent over here. He’ll take pennies on the dollar. Then after we get the interior ready, we can focus on stock. I’ve got some ideas we can look at.”

  “There is no we in this deal. I don’t need your help. And something else, since I have no other place to go at the moment, I want to pay my own way.” She stopped and glared up at him. “What will you charge to rent your extra bedroom?”

  “Damn it, Rainey!” His voice was rough with agitation. “I’m not charging you.”

  “Just like Allura isn’t charging you.” She yanked the throw pillow up and gripped it between her hands.

  “You heard that?”

  “I wasn’t eavesdropping, if that’s what you think.”

  “You’ve got it all wrong—”

  “That hussy isn’t the issue.” She tossed the pillow aside. “You have every right to your private life and so do I. I will pay my way or won’t stay.” Crossing her arms, she continued, “And you can go your way and I’ll go mine.”

  “This is stupid. One minute you’re in my arms and the next you’re as far away as the International Space Station.”

  “Let’s get one thing straight, Cowan . . . if I stay, I’m your renter, not your girlfriend, not your lover, and certainly not a midnight fling,” she said in a crystal-clear voice, hoping she’d made her point just as clear. “I want my privacy and nothing like what happened tonight will ever happen again. Understand?”

  “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard of.” He ran his fingers though his hair. “What in the hell did I do wrong?”

  “If you don’t agree, then I’m leaving.” Defiantly, she came to her
feet and took a threatening step toward him. “Tonight!”

  “And just where will you go?”

  “As much as I’d hate to do it, I’ll go to Europe and spend time with my parents or I’ll stay in the depot in my new sleeping bag.”

  “With no hot water and someone possibly after you?” He glared at her, but had a quirk at the corner of his mouth.

  Without warning, Deuce stepped toward her. Clasping her to him, his mouth swooped down to capture hers, allowing passion within her to explode.

  As abruptly as he took her into his arms, Deuce released her. “That can be the first month’s rent—”

  With his obviously quick responses, Deuce caught her wrist in one hand and avoided having the daylights slapped out of him.

  “That’s a low blow, Cowan.” She tried to keep her voice calmer than she felt inside.

  “Yeah, it was. Sorry.” He stiffened as though she had struck him. “Have it your way.” Shrugging, he continued, “You can stay under your terms.”

  Rainey settled back on the sofa next to Fat-Cat. “And one more thing.”

  “Geez!” He threw up his hands in defeat. “What?”

  “I know you’ve got the ranch under surveillance.”

  “Affirmative and it is not open for compromise. A deputy stays—end of discussion.” The look on his face made it clear that the issue was not up for debate. “There will be eyes on your every move, so get used to it.” A muscle quivered at his jaw. “And you’ll get all the room you need.”

  “Deuce, please understand. I just need to do this myself. I have to have space.”

  “If you want to be my roommate until the depot is habitable, then fine. It’ll cost you fifty dollars a week. I prefer cash and if I’m not around when the rent comes due, leave it on the kitchen table. Or better yet—give it to the cat, since you seem to favor him over me.” His tone was saturated with sarcasm. “By the way, the Fat-Cat eats Meow Mix, not chicken livers.”

  “Tell him that.”

  Hearing his name, Fat-Cat rolled onto his back, stretched a full two and a half feet and seemed to smile up at his owner.

  Deuce snarled back at the animal, snatched up his iPhone, and furiously pressed in numbers.

  “Allura, I know it’s late but things have changed. I’ve got some vacation time coming and Danny can take up the slack.” He leveled an icy stare at Rainey. “If you can fit me in, I’ll be in Amarillo first thing in the morning.” Although he spoke to Allura, it seemed that he directed his comments to Rainey. “I’ll be on vacation, so I’m flexible.”

  Without taking his gaze from her, he added, “I have nothing holding me here.” He put his phone on the table, and said directly to Rainey, “Not any longer.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Rainey closed Deuce’s laptop computer, thankful that he’d given her the code to the Internet, so she could check out prices for shelving and other things she’d need to set up her antiques store. She had just finished checking for locations of nearby flea markets and thrift stores.

  Continuing to sit at the kitchen table sipping on a cup of coffee, she tried to stay focused on the positive while shucking off the negative thoughts, which seemed harder and harder to do the longer Deuce was gone.

  Ever since he’d walked out, she’d gotten little sleep. All she seemed to do was toss and turn more than most major league baseball pitchers. Now she’d gone and done it. Forced Deuce into the arms of his ex-girlfriend because of . . . what?

  Jealousy?

  How could she be jealous of something she didn’t own? The answer was simple—she’d been just too damn independent all of her life. And maybe a tad stubborn, too.

  Deuce’s last words the night he walked out, after he grabbed his Stetson, then retrieved his Glock pistol from the gun cabinet and stomped to the door, rang loud in her ears.

  He had turned on his heels and his stony lava-dark eyes flashed. “You want room?” He plopped his hat on his head. “Then, by God, I’ll give you space.” Running his thumb along the brim as a salute, he added, “And keep the door locked. Don’t let anybody, and I mean anybody, in the house, even if you know them!”

  It’d already been four days since Deuce had walked out of his own house. Both his Lincoln Navigator and red Ford F-150 Texas Edition pickup were in the garage. She had seen no evidence that either had been driven and she certainly hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the stubborn lawman. No doubt he’d been in the ranch house at least once, since she found a set of keys to the front and back doors, along with a twelve pack of Diet Dr Pepper on the kitchen table.

  Still no sugar. Had he not even noticed she used it in her coffee? No sugar, yet he bought Butterfingers by the boxes and obviously someone was eating them based on the amount that had disappeared.

  But the strangest items of all, he’d left plant food specially formulated for a bonsai plant and a package of raw chicken livers

  She’d lost count of the times she’d driven by the sheriff’s department trying to catch a glimpse of him, if he’d returned to town. The county’s club-cab pickup was never there, and she didn’t have the nerve to stop and ask about his whereabouts.

  Her only solace was her work at the depot during the day, which kept her busy cleaning. The thought of the amount of work left to be done brought her out of her musing.

  It was already eight o’clock and she hadn’t even put on makeup. Other than forcing herself to get up and check Craig’s List on the Internet for items she could use in the store, the only other thing she’d accomplished was drinking two cups of coffee with sugar. Sugar she had purchased from the little store downtown, along with a small supply of groceries. Just the thought of eating at the café turned her stomach, although she had stopped and picked up a pastry at Winnie’s Bakery. The lady who owned it seemed very nice and didn’t ask any questions. It was a quaint little place Rainey felt she could go to and drink a cup of coffee without being stared at.

  In short order, she finished retrieving her things at the ranch, and pulled up into the empty parking lot at the depot, prepared for another laborious day of work. All the way in, she looked for signs about garage sales but concluded that Kasota Springs was so small that they didn’t have a lot of them and she really wanted to stay with true antiques not junk. She had been trained by Deuce’s mother to know the difference between knockoffs and real antiques when she worked for her in high school. Mrs. Cowan was one of the most intelligent and savvy businesswomen Rainey knew. She would really like to see her, but with Deuce temporarily out of the picture, she realized that wasn’t about to happen. Rainey sure could use Mrs. Cowan’s expertise, but would have to go it alone. At least temporarily.

  On the negative side of her thoughts, she had spent several hundred dollars more at Gideon’s hardware store on a mop and bucket, along with several carts filled with cleaning supplies. She felt ashamed of buying all but one bottle of window cleaner and a case of paper towels, not to mention almost his full supply of buckets with handles on them. Maybe what she purchased would make it necessary for his supplier to come earlier to replenish his stock, thus delivering her futon. If wishes were dirty dishes, she’d have to stay in the kitchen all night long.

  Beads of perspiration ran down Rainey’s face as she mopped the huge floor.

  The shrill of the alarm system startled her. Someone had opened the front door. Her heart was still beating faster than she thought possible by the time she turned to see who had entered.

  “I’m sorry I scared you by just coming in,” Sylvie said, apparently noticing the fright that Rainey knew covered every inch of her face.

  “Oh, no, it’s fine.” Rainey disarmed the alarm, but stayed behind the counter so she could hold on to the ledge until her shaky knees settled a bit.

  “I knocked and you didn’t answer. Since the door was unlocked I just came in,” said Sylvie who was decked out today in an outfit that Annette Funicello or Sandra Dee would have truly appreciated.

  “Since this is such a huge place, I
can’t hear anybody coming in, so I’ve been setting the alarm to alert me. I hope it didn’t scare you.”

  “No, not really. That’s a good idea though.” Sylvie shifted from one foot to another, making Rainey think maybe the pointed toed shoes were hurting the postmistress. “Is this a good time for you?”

  “Perfect. I have to let the floor dry back behind the counter and I need to sit down and take a little break anyway.” She motioned towards the card table and chairs before continuing, “I don’t have anything in the way of refreshments except for a couple of cans of Diet Dr Pepper, but they are cold. Want one?”

  “Sure.” Sylvie sat down in one of the folding chairs. “It’s my lunch hour. You received a piece of mail and I thought it might be important, so I wanted to bring it over.” She handed the letter in a regular business envelope to Rainey.

  She accepted the piece of mail and thanked the woman. Without glancing at it, Rainey tossed the envelope on the counter. It couldn’t be anything important, since nobody knew she was in town; not even her parents, who were still touring Europe. It was too early for utility bills to arrive and she got little if any unsolicited mail since her name was an alias.

  After opening two cans of soda, Rainey took the seat across from her visitor. “What’s going on around town?” Rainey asked knowing that if there was any town gossip, particularly about her, Miss 1950 would know it.

  “About the only new thing is that the bypass crews are about to leave town because they’re nearly finished.” Sylvie accepted the soda.

  Rainey deliberately made small talk. “So how is the bypass going to affect Kasota Springs?”

  “That’ll cut off all the through traffic. People like Gideon, Pumpkin’s, and Winnie’s really depend on travelers stopping by on their way through town. A petroleum company has already built a big truck stop north of town along the bypass. It’s gonna take a chunk of business away from the locals.” She took a sip of her drink. “Then you add the Green-Mart that’s planning on building a store once they buy the land, and Kasota might well become a ghost town.”