Those Texas Nights

by Delores Fossen

“Well, if you want to keep that record spotless, you need to get in your rental Hummer and head out now,” Clay insisted.

  The staring contest started. Clay figured a lot of Old West shoot-outs had started with this sort of glorified stink eye. But there’d be no shoot-out. Shane didn’t have a permit for a weapon, and Clay was keeping a close eye on Shane’s hands. If Mr. Gap-tooth really was stupid enough to pull a gun on a cop, then Clay could stop him and arrest him. There’d go that perfect record Shane was bragging about.

  Clay didn’t ease up on the glaring, and he knew for a fact that he was good at it because of all the practice he’d had with raising his kid sister. And he obviously hadn’t lost his touch because Shane dropped back a step.

  “Fine,” Shane spat out. “I’m leaving, and then you can explain to Sophie that you ran her new boyfriend out of town.”

  Those words were still coming out of Shane’s mouth when the door opened, and Sophie walked out. Great. Now, he was going to have to explain to a riled Sophie what was going on.

  Or not.

  “You’re not my new boyfriend,” Sophie snapped. Apparently, her scowl was meant for Shane, not him. “And your teeth aren’t perfect imperfections. They’re stupid.”

  Clay agreed about the stupid teeth, but he wasn’t sure where the remark was coming from. Maybe it’d been part of their conversation when they’d been chowing down on nachos.

  Shane slashed his gaze between them, and he must have realized this was a lost cause because he flashed that bust-my-face-please grin. “You’re wasting your time with her, Chief,” he gibed, and Shane said the rest of his gibe from over his shoulder. “She was a bad fuck anyway.”

  “What?” Sophie howled. She nearly went after him, but Clay hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her back. He didn’t want to have to arrest her if she tried to claw out Shane’s eyes. “I didn’t...do what he said with him.”

  “You had sexual relations with that man?” Clay heard someone ask. Sophie’s mother. She was in the doorway with Mila, and behind them, every person in the bar had come to watch.

  “No!” Sophie insisted. “I had a crush on him when I was twelve. I didn’t even know what sex was.”

  Her mother nodded, seemed relieved, and then she turned that relieved gaze on Clay. “Did you make Shane leave because you were jealous and want to win Sophie back?”

  Sophie groaned. “No,” she repeated.

  Clay hated to disagree with her, especially since the disagreement was a lie, but he’d given his word. “Yes,” he said.

  That got everyone’s attention, and the only one who smiled was Sophie’s mother. Mila just stared. And the others got out their phones, no doubt to text everyone in the known universe that Sophie and the interim chief were really an item.

  Sophie stared at him a long time with those intense eyes. Thankfully, there wasn’t much light in the alley so he didn’t have to look away. “Excuse us a minute.” Sophie didn’t seem to be saying that to anyone specifically, and she reached behind her and shut the door. “They’ll probably stand there and try to listen,” she added.

  Clay still had his arm around her so when she started walking toward the front of the building, he let go of her and followed. “I can explain.” He used the softest voice he could because Sophie was right about the eavesdroppers.

  “No need.” She whispered, too. “Shane is some kind of con artist who preys on rich women, but you didn’t want to spill that to everyone in town because you’re investigating him.”

  Close. It hadn’t taken Sophie long to pick up on that because according to the bartender, Sophie and Shane had only been in the Longhorn about a half hour before Clay arrived.

  “He’s been implicated in three cases where he allegedly stole or embezzled from women,” Clay explained. “But I’m not investigating him. I got a tip.”

  Clay had hoped that Sophie might just accept all of that at face value, but that wasn’t an acceptance expression she got. “Who gave you a tip about him?”

  “Brantley told me.”

  That wasn’t an acceptance expression, either. A quick breath left her mouth, and she leaned against the building. It wasn’t cold, but there was a nip in the air so maybe that’s why she scrubbed her hands up and down her arms.

  “Why did Brantley go to you with this and not to me?” she asked.

  “He thought I could scare off Shane.” Clay paused, tried to figure out the best way to say this. “Brantley violated attorney–client confidence by telling me, but Shane milked one of his clients out of a small fortune. The woman didn’t want to file charges because she was embarrassed. Brantley did some digging, and he found a couple more women Shane had scammed.”

  Sophie nodded, mumbled something under her breath that he didn’t catch. “So, Brantley thought he needed to look out for me, and he did it by proxy through you. I’m trying to decide if I should be grateful or pissed off.” Her gaze snapped back to him. “I wouldn’t have fallen for Shane’s con.”

  Clay could see that now.

  “But it was your job to warn me so I do appreciate that,” she added on another sigh. “Thank you.”

  Now, he wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or pissed off. And Clay wasn’t sure why he was feeling these things. She was damn straight that it was his job, but he would have done this even if he hadn’t been a cop.

  Hell.

  That wasn’t a good thing to admit to himself. He’d made this personal, and he knew from experience—one really bad experience, anyway—that it wasn’t a good idea to mix work and personal feelings. Especially since being involved with Sophie would mean her getting a daily dose of salt in the wound because she would also get daily doses of Brantley, April and their new family.

  So, why didn’t he just say good-night and move away from her, then?

  Because he was stupid, that’s why.

  Maybe it was the cool, dark night. Maybe it was because Sophie’s eyes were partly closed while she likely tried to figure out how she was going to tell her mom and Mila that she wasn’t really involved with him after all. Or it could be her scent that’d made its way to him.

  And maybe it was just this damn heat that kept flaming up inside him.

  If he’d had the nachos, he would have blamed it on that, but this was heat from a nonfood source.

  “So...” she said as if trying to prompt something—either him or herself.

  But Clay didn’t budge. “So,” he repeated.

  His hand was stupid, too, because it moved toward her. To her arm, and he brushed his fingers over her skin. If he was the sort of man who lied to himself, he would have said that was to check and see if she was cold. But as a general rule, he preferred to face up to the truth.

  He just wanted to touch her.

  And she was indeed cold. He could feel the goose bumps riffling over her skin.

  Again, he could have lied to himself and pretended that he moved closer to give her a little heat, but Clay wanted to feel just how hot that slam of attraction could be when his body brushed against her.

  It could be damn hot, he decided.

  “I’m pretty sure this is a bad idea,” she said. Her voice was all shivery and sending out some kind of pheromones that went straight to his dick. Pheromones and dicks weren’t a good combination, either.

  That didn’t stop him. He was going to kiss her. And yes, it would be a bad idea. “It’s been a while since I’ve had something to regret, but this should take care of that.”

  She laughed, not laced with nerves as he wanted it to be. If there’d been nerves that might have caused him and his dick to back away. But that laugh was laced with pheromones, too.

  “Just how much do you think we’d regret it?” she asked.

  “This much.”

  Clay moved in, sliding his hand to the back of
her neck, inching her closer. Not that she had to go far because he’d already positioned himself too close. His mouth lowered to hers, and he caught her scent again. Not those blasted nachos, either, but Sophie’s scent, and he figured she would taste as good as she smelled.

  Probably better.

  He started with a simple touch, his lips brushing against hers. That packed a wallop, too, and Clay moved in to make this a mistake worth regretting.

  Instead, though, he got a regret of a different kind. It came in the form of a man’s voice.

  “Sophie?” someone called out. “Clay?”

  Hell, it was Brantley.

  Sophie and he moved away as if they’d electrocuted each other. Which might not be far from the truth. And they did manage to move apart just as Brantley came around the corner.

  “There you are,” Brantley said. “I was worried when I didn’t hear from you, but one of Freddy’s boys told me that Shane had left.” Brantley just kept walking toward them until he was close enough that even in the dim light, he could probably see the guilty looks on their faces.

  “Did Shane give you any trouble?” Brantley asked, and then he turned to Sophie. “Oh, God, you’re upset. Please don’t be.”

  Clay studied her face. She was breathing through her mouth, and her breath was too fast. Signs that Brantley had obviously misread as her being upset.

  Good.

  Clay had already come close enough to kissing her, and it was best if he didn’t have to discuss that with Sophie’s ex-lover who was also his brother-in-law.

  Nothing complicated about that.

  “I’m okay,” Sophie assured him. “Shane and I weren’t hitting it off anyway.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s good.” Brantley touched her, too, on her arm. Much as Clay had done earlier except this was more of a pat than a finger slide as Clay’s had been. If Brantley had seen that finger slide and the near kiss, he wouldn’t be hanging around right now.

  Brantley quit patting Sophie and turned to Clay. “Ordell Busby’s boy also told me what you said about being jealous and wanting to win Sophie back. Thanks for covering for me.”

  “Thanks for giving me the tip about Shane. But Sophie was already onto him by the time I got here.”

  “Good,” Brantley said, and he repeated it. “And I’ll figure out a way to set the Busby boy and everybody else straight. I’ll convince them that you really weren’t jealous and that you two aren’t together.”

  Sophie mumbled a thanks, but it wasn’t any louder than Clay’s.

  Brantley was also looking at them as if trying to figure out if anything was wrong. “Well, I’ll be going, then.”

  Clay finally released the breath he’d been holding when Brantley turned, but the man hadn’t made it even a step before he whirled back around. “I nearly forgot,” he said, taking something from his jacket pocket. “It’s a little early, but it’s for your birthday. You’ll be the big 3-0. Say, did you know that yours and Clay’s birthdays are only two days apart? His birthday is today. We celebrated with him earlier.”

  Sophie shook her head. “No, I didn’t know. Happy birthday,” she added to Clay before she turned back to Brantley. “But you didn’t have to get me a gift. In fact, I don’t want a gift from you—”

  “Oh, this isn’t from me.” Brantley pulled out an envelope.

  A pink one.

  And he put it in her hand. “It’s the letter your dad left you in his will. April and I are headed out of town for a little getaway first thing in the morning, and I wanted to give it to you before we left. Don’t read it, though, until your actual birthday.”

  Brantley started to leave again and then stopped just as he’d done before. However, he didn’t look at Sophie this time but rather Clay. “In case this letter’s anything like the ones he left Roman and Garrett, I’ll make sure someone is with her when she reads it.” He gave them a wave that was much too cheery considering the news he’d just delivered. “Good night, guys.”

  Brantley had no sooner left when Sophie’s phone dinged with a text message. She groaned when she looked at the screen and then showed it to Clay. It was from Shane.

  Thanks for a rotten evening, bitch. I left the bill on the table for you. You can pay for it out of your trust fund. Hasta la vista, baby.

  Sophie shrugged. “Being called a bitch and paying the bill is a small price to get rid of him.”

  Clay agreed and decided it would be a good idea to keep his eye on Shane, just to make sure he didn’t come back to town and try to cause trouble for Sophie. And he thought that trouble might have already started when her phone dinged again. Since Sophie already had her phone angled so he could see it, Clay read the message at the same time she did.

  Not from Shane.

  But from April.

  Ian Busby just called to tell me you were in the Longhorn alley with my husband. Brantley’s married to me now so why can’t you just leave him alone? There’s a word for women like you, Sophie Granger. BITCH.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CLAY’S “SHIT TO FORGET” box was wide-open. If he’d been awake, he might have had a chance to snap it shut before the images escaped, but it was hard to fight a nightmare when you couldn’t wake the fuck up.

  He was trapped. Just as he had been that day. And just like that day the shit had started, he felt the fear crawl through him. Fear that he would fail.

  And he had.

  He’d failed when it had mattered most.

  Delaney.

  He saw her eyes. The panic in them, the silent plea for him to help save her. That image froze as it always did once the box was open, and in that moment he hadn’t failed yet. There was still hope. That didn’t help, of course, because the feeling of hope only made the next set of images even harder to stomach.

  But for that moment, he could see the life in her eyes.

  It didn’t last. It never did. Because there was the sound of the blast from his own gun. Other sounds, too, of Clay failing and failing and failing.

  And just like that, the life in her eyes was gone.

  Gone because Clay had killed her.

  * * *

  GARRETT TOSSED THE cantaloupe-sized rock onto the small flatbed trailer that he’d hitched to the tractor. It landed with a thud on top of the other eight million rocks he’d already picked up from the south pasture. It wasn’t a fun chore, but it was a necessary one because the rocks played havoc when checking the cattle on horseback. And for some reason the chore soothed him.

  Right now, soothing was a good thing.

  When he was a kid, he’d thought rocks grew like crops since they just seemed to appear on the ground. It made sense to a seven-year-old kid. Made sense, too, that the tiny rocks must be seeds.

  Roman, who was two years younger but somehow always wiser about stuff like that had laughed like a loon when Garrett had told him about his rock seed notion. Then his brother had swallowed some pea gravel to prove Garrett wrong. Of course, Roman being Roman, he had later stuffed some rags under his T-shirt, arranging them in his midsection to make Garrett believe the rocks were growing in his belly.

  Sophie had sobbed over the thought of her brother’s stomach exploding, and when Garrett had realized what was going on, he’d punched Roman in his rag-padded belly. Because while Garrett might not have been wiser about such things, he was the older brother and had bigger hands. Plus, he was stronger from picking up all those damn rocks when he’d been a kid.

  Garrett smiled at the memory of Roman, but the smile didn’t last. Somehow, he had to fix this feud between Roman and their mom. He had to keep an eye on Sophie, too, to make sure she wasn’t still bawling over the horse’s ass who’d jilted her. There were also still things that needed attention on the ranch. And with the search for Billy Lee. Garrett needed to hire more PIs and push the fe
ds to dig harder. Amid all of that, he had to work on his marriage and try to sort out what was going on with Meredith.

  Yeah, there was plenty that needed fixing in his life. And some were outside his skill set as a big brother, the CEO of Granger Western and the alpha male of the family. Some of the things might be irreversible and unfixable.

  Garrett heard a sound, looked up and saw a rider approaching. He hadn’t told anyone he was coming out here, hadn’t brought his phone with him, either, but apparently that hadn’t stopped Lawson from finding him.

  “You do know we pay hands to do this,” Lawson greeted. He eased out of the saddle, walked closer to Garrett.

  “I’m not doing paperwork today,” Garrett told him right away. “And I’m not sitting in on any business meetings. Or looking over tax stuff. And I’m not going to soothe over any ranch hand you’ve managed to piss off.”

  “I can see that. But I can also see you won’t be picking up rocks much longer.” Lawson pointed to the iron-gray clouds. Rain was moving in, chillier temps, too, so Garrett would eventually have to go to the house.

  But eventually wasn’t right now.

  “Did you ride out here to give me a fucking weather report?” Garrett snarled. Thankfully, he could be a dick with his cousin, mainly because Lawson could be an even bigger dick right back. Plus, he was blood, more like a brother than a cousin.

  When Lawson didn’t jump to reply with a dick-ish remark, Garrett tossed the rock he’d just picked up and looked at his cousin.

  Hell.

  Something was wrong.

  “Is it Sophie?” Garrett asked. He had a good reason to suspect his sister was on the receiving end of that something was wrong. Her thirtieth birthday was tomorrow, but he’d heard that Brantley had already given her the pink envelope. The one that would almost certainly have some kind of shit-message from their father.

  Lawson frowned. “Did something happen to Sophie?”

  “I asked first.” But it was a good sign that this wasn’t about the letter after all. Garrett would need to make sure he stayed near the house tomorrow because she might need his big-brother skill set after she read the message from beyond the grave.