Cowboy Truth: Cowboy Justice Association #3

by Olivia Jaymes

  Ava had heard the gossip about how hot Logan was between the sheets. Women actually sighed when they said his name. Sighed, for heaven’s sake. Like he was some god or something. No man was that good in the sack.

  “I don’t think that will keep him from catching whoever murdered Mr. Bryson.” Ava opened the door and tried to duck out. “See you tonight.”

  Her father’s hand stayed the door. “Wait. You never said where you’re going or when you’ll be home.”

  Ava mentally counted to five as she didn’t have the patience to count to ten. She needed to push back on this behavior if she was going to stay here in Corville for awhile and help Logan solve this murder. She looked her father in the eye.

  “No, I didn’t. That’s because I’m thirty years old and no longer make a practice of checking in and out with my parents.” Her father started to speak but she held her hand up. “I know you mean well, and I know you love me. But I’m all grown up, Dad. You and Mom did a great job. Rest on your laurels and relax. Your daughters will be fine.”

  “Mary will be fine because she has a good husband to take care of her.”

  Ava wanted to smack her head against the oak front door. “Are you saying Mary couldn’t take care of herself? That I can’t? If so, I’ve been doing a pretty decent impression of it these last few years.”

  Her dad’s face was turning red. “While you’re under my roof, young lady—”

  “Bruce, leave Ava be. She’s right. We need to trust her.” Carol Hayworth appeared with a dishtowel in her hands and a smile on her face. “Honey, we’ll leave a light on in the living room if we go to bed before you get home. Have fun and be safe.”

  “There’s a killer out there!” Bruce Hayworth blustered. “You’re sending your daughter to her death!”

  Carol’s eyebrows shot up and she gave her husband a quelling look. “If you are implying that I would be careless with my own daughter’s life, you can fix your own dinner. I’ll take my pot roast and eat at Doreen’s.”

  The only person in the world who could handle Bruce Hayworth was his wife, Carol. He snapped his mouth shut and stomped back into the family room, turning up the television loudly.

  Ava’s mother rolled her eyes. “Your father is getting worse in his old age, I swear. You’d think this was Victorian times.” Her eyes sparkled. “Are you going to see a young man, by any chance?”

  Carol Hayworth had the wedding fever ever since Mary announced her engagement. Ava didn’t have the heart to tell her she didn’t really want to get married. She didn’t see the need.

  “Kind of.” Ava was close to her mother, and they had very few secrets. “Actually, I was going to see Logan Wright. I want to help him find the murderer.”

  Everyone in town would have laughed at that statement, but Ava knew her mother wouldn’t. Carol had been the only one who seemed to understand and support her daughter’s fantasy life. She’d been the first person to buy one of Ava’s books.

  Carol tossed the dishtowel over her shoulder. “I suppose the safest place you could be is with Sheriff Wright.” She turned to head back into the kitchen but suddenly stopped. “As long as that’s all it is. Sheriff Wright is never going to settle down with one woman, sweetheart. If you’re thinking along those lines, best put it out of your head. He’s a good man, but a player of sorts.”

  “Everyone knows that. Besides, even if I was interested, I’m not his type.”

  “I’m not sure what Sheriff Wright’s type is, but I just want you to be aware. He’s a man that doesn’t want to change.”

  “Do they ever?” retorted Ava.

  “Only when they absolutely, positively have to.” Her mother’s eyes twinkled. “Have fun and drive carefully.”

  Ava would be a wealthy woman if she had a dime for every time one of her parents told her to be careful. It was as if they saw the world as this big, scary place with monsters around every corner.

  She practiced her pitch to Logan in the car as she drove to his home. He hadn’t exactly been excited about her offer to help the night before, but then they’d all been upset. Hopefully some sleep would have softened his mood.

  She was still hopeful as she knocked on the front door of his house. This small ranch had belonged to the former sheriff but he had willed it to Logan. Despite the home being almost a hundred years old, it looked well-cared for. The clapboard siding was freshly painted in a cheery white with blue trim and the window boxes had bright red flowers that matched the flower bed in front of the large front porch. Everything about this place screamed a warm welcome to visitors.

  She couldn’t say the same for Logan when he finally opened the door.

  “Ava? What are you doing here?” He looked over her shoulder as if to see if she had company. Either that or he was wondering how quickly he could hustle her back to her car.

  “I brought you coffee.” She held up a large to go cup from the local coffee shop who had assured her the dark roast was Logan’s favorite. “I thought we could discuss the case.”

  He was less than thrilled. His jaw tightened and his lips pressed together, clearly holding onto his patience. She’d seen that same expression on her editor’s face a time or three.

  “We have nothing to discuss. You aren’t working the case.” He couldn’t really pull off the pissed as hell routine considering he looked like a five year old pulled out of bed. He was wearing a gray pair of sweatpants that hung off his lean hipbones, a red T-shirt, and bare feet. His blond hair was tousled and even sticking up in a few places and there were creases on his cheek from the sheets. He must have slept hard when he finally went to bed. It was mid-afternoon now and she figured he probably hadn’t even laid down until early this morning.

  She waved the coffee under his nose. “It’s your favorite.”

  His eyes followed the cup and for a moment she thought he was going to give in. Instead he shook his head and stepped more fully into the doorway.

  “Ava, I know you’re trying to help, but—”

  “I know what you’re going to say,” she interrupted. “I only write fiction. I have my head in the clouds. Blah, blah. But I can help you. I brought the guest list. We have a lot of work to do and we need to get going.”

  She held up the thick folder filled with the guest list, vendor list, and even the reception seating chart.

  Logan was suddenly wide awake. “How did you get that? We asked for it last night and was told by George they couldn’t produce it. It had been thrown away.”

  “I printed them from my sister’s laptop this morning.” Ava shrugged. “It wasn’t rocket science.”

  She could see the war going on inside Logan as different expressions flitted across his handsome features. Luckily for her, the last expression was one of acceptance.

  “I suppose you won’t give me those unless I let you in?”

  Ava did a mental fist pump. Logan was going to let her past the threshold. Exultation made her want to do a victory dance, but this was only one of many battles to be fought. Logan wasn’t going to give in easily.

  “We’re a package deal. Although I guess you could get a subpoena or something. That would take time.”

  Logan stepped back and waved her in. “Then by all means come on in. And give me that coffee. I desperately need it.”

  He didn’t have his signature grin but a smile was playing on his lips. He was a good loser although she would bet he didn’t have much practice at it. She handed him the paper cup.

  “When did you get to bed?”

  He drank the coffee, closing his eyes. “About ten in the morning. What a fucking night.” He shut the front door and headed deeper into the house. “Well, you’re here now. Are you coming?”

  Scratching his stomach and yawning, he led her through the living room and into the large, bright kitchen. It had one of those old-fashioned double stoves she’d coveted in her grandmother’s house and a large island in the middle stacked with file folders. A laptop was situated at one end and he pointed to
one of two leather covered stools.

  “Make yourself at home. I have coffee. Can I get you anything? I think I have juice and soda. Or water.”

  “A soda? You give in gracefully.”

  Logan pulled a can from the refrigerator and slid it in front of her as she settled at the island. She reached for one of the files but his large hand came down hard on top of it. She snatched her hand back and had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. He wasn’t going to make this easy.

  “First of all, I did not give in. I was blackmailed.”

  He wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t as irritated as last night.

  “Second?” she asked sweetly, giving him her best innocent smile.

  Logan growled and sat down in front of the laptop. She wasn’t put off in the least. He was all bark and no bite. “Second, you are not a part of this investigation. I only let you in the house so I could get my hands on your evidence.”

  “That sounds kind of dirty.” She giggled. “My evidence.”

  Logan finally smiled. “Did the deacon’s daughter make an off-color joke? What would Daddy say?”

  “Probably that I was heading straight to hell. Do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars,” she sighed. Her relationship with her father was complicated. In a nutshell, it went better when they were a thousand miles apart.

  Logan gazed at her closely. “It doesn’t appear to bother you.”

  It bothered her, but it was none of his business. “I’m not sure I believe in hell to begin with.” Holding up the file, she gave him her biggest smile. She wouldn’t be sidetracked. “We need to get started. I have a diagram of the reception area and the house. We need to put everyone in the places when the murder happened.”

  She hopped up and walked over to the large white board on the wall a few feet away. It was now clear Logan used this area as his office. She found a few magnets and clamped the large pictures to the board. She’d already filled in a few people in the reception area since that’s where she’d been at the time of the murder.

  Logan turned and eyed the chart. “You’ve been a busy bee while I slept.” He pointed to some names on the dance floor. “How can you place them there when you don’t even know the time of death?”

  “I’m using the estimated time of death. We can fine tune the diagram later. It’s going to take a long time to get everyone on here. There are over three hundred names on this guest list.”

  Logan winced and took another drink of his coffee. “I need a shower to help me wake up. I only got a few hours of sleep.”

  “I can work on this while you do that.” Ava held her breath as Logan considered her offer.

  Please. Please.

  He reached and grabbed a folder, handing it to her. “I must be out of my fucking mind, but okay. Here are the statements of the guests that we gathered last night and early this morning. My deputies are out getting the ones we missed. Now raise your right hand.”

  “Um, what?” He looked completely serious.

  “Raise your right hand. I’m going to swear you in as a temporary deputy of Corville.”

  She raised her right hand and dutifully repeated what basically amounted to a draconian vow of obedience and servitude. She was pretty sure this wasn’t the same oath Deputy Drake had taken, but whatever. He was actually going to let her help.

  “Now I’m going to take a shower and you are going to do only what I tell you to. You will not arrest anyone. You will not question suspects. Your job is one thing and one thing only. These files.”

  His finger tapped the stack and she sighed in capitulation. “You’re mean. You take the fun out of everything.”

  Logan laughed and headed down the hall. “Ava Hayworth, you may be the first female to ever say that. I’ll be right back.”

  She could hear his hearty laughter even when he closed a door between them and turned on the shower. Before she knew it, he was belting out a pretty darn good rendition of Bruce Springsteen’s I’m On Fire at the top of his lungs.

  Flipping open the folder, she started reading the first statement on top. It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter Four

  Logan rubbed his eyes and worked the kinks out of his back. He and Ava had been working through the stack of statements from the guests for the last four hours. He was tired, hungry, and his head hurt. They were, however, making progress. The reception diagram was starting to fill in nicely.

  Ava was doing a good job. He hated to admit it but she did know her investigative techniques. She’d obviously done her homework and then some. She also appeared to have reserves of energy and enthusiasm he could only dream about. She was still bright eyed and bushy tailed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She was a pretty girl with her dark curls and dimples in her cheeks when she smiled.

  “I need a break. Are you hungry?” he asked, tossing a folder aside. “I think I have a frozen pizza in the freezer. They don’t deliver way out here.”

  “I could eat,” Ava shrugged and looked at her watch. “Wow, we’ve been at this a long time. I can’t believe it’s after six.”

  “I can. My stomach is screaming for food.” He opened the freezer and pulled out two frozen circles, holding them up. “I’ve got a pepperoni and a sausage. Preference?”

  “I like sausage but I’ll do either. I’m easy.”

  Logan grinned. “That’s not the word around town, Miss Goody Two-Shoes.” Logan pushed a few buttons on the oven and slid the pizza directly onto the rack. He liked teasing her, seeing if she would take the bait. So far she’d been quite controlled.

  “What is the word around town?” Ava asked, her expression bland.

  Logan grabbed two fresh sodas from the fridge. “Word is you were a ‘touch me not’ in high school. Of course, that was several years ago. Things could have changed.”

  She tapped her fingernail on the counter and didn’t look at him. “I didn’t sleep around. Then or now. When I go to bed with someone it’s because I like them. End of story.”

  “You think I sleep around though.”

  She finally looked up. “I didn’t say that.”

  Logan laughed. “You didn’t have to. Your prissy tone told the whole story. And I don’t sleep around. I make sure the women I date understand who I am. I don’t want a commitment, or marriage, or kids. If they’re okay with that then we can have some fun. If not, I move along.”

  “My mother said you were a player and my father said you were wild as a mustang.”

  He liked her directness. It was refreshing in a world where most women were trying to get something from him. Sex, love, gifts, approval. Whatever it was, they were attracted to his looks or the way he filled out his jeans. They didn’t know shit about him. Not really. They said they wanted to know him but what they really wanted was for him to know them. They wanted to be understood and admired. Ava didn’t want anything from him at all.

  Except to let her help.

  He could give her that.

  “A mustang. I like the comparison. Sounds like he doesn’t think much of me.”

  Few fathers in this county did. Make that several counties.

  “He said you were the best sheriff the town has ever had.”

  He turned and opened the oven pretending to check the pizza but really to hide his smile. He was glad the town recognized how hard he worked to keep them safe. He was truly proud of the legacy he was building in Corville. What he did had meaning and substance. It was real.

  “That’s nice of your father to say that. It’s good to be appreciated.” Logan popped open the can of soda. “Why are you trying to help me with a real murder instead of writing a new make-believe one?”

  “This will make me a better writer.” Ava was swinging her foot back and forth and avoiding his gaze. Logan played poker and had interrogated countless criminals. She wasn’t telling the whole truth. He had found her tell.

  “And?” He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

  “And what?” Her small foot kicked faste
r. She’d pulled off her sandals earlier and he could see the flash of red toenail polish as her leg moved back and forth.

  “You better check your pants, Ava. I think they’re on fire. Now tell me why you’re not working on a new book.”

  She sighed and her foot stopped swinging. “Melissa and Michael are falling in love.”

  “Is that a bad thing?” Logan didn’t want to fall in love but he wasn’t averse to reading about it.

  “I didn’t plan it that way. They were supposed to stay friends.” She sounded annoyed.

  “I’m not sure I follow you. They’re your characters, right?”

  “They really belong to themselves. They have minds of their own and they can be bossy.”

  He might just have a crazy woman in his kitchen.

  “Do they talk to you all the time? Do they tell you to do bad things?”

  She picked up the oven mitt and tossed it at him. “Stop smirking. I’m a writer. My characters talk to me.”

  He laughed at her outraged expression. “If you’re okay with voices in your head, I am. You don’t seem violent or anything.”

  “It’s the life of a writer. Until now my characters were pretty well behaved. But lately they’ve wanted to do things that I’m not sure I can write about.”

  “Love?” Logan pulled the pizza from the oven and slid it on a cookie sheet.

  “I’ve never been in love. I don’t know how to write about it.”

  “Then don’t. Ignore it.”

  “It doesn’t work that way.” Ava’s stomach growled and she pressed a hand to her middle. “I didn’t realize I was so hungry. That smells good.”

  Logan cut the pizza into slices and put two on her plate. “Eat. We still have a lot of work to do.”

  She blew on the steaming pizza. “So that’s why I’m helping you. If I can hone my skills at solving a crime, maybe my readers won’t notice that I don’t know anything about love.”

  “You’ve never been in love? Ever?”

  She was an attractive woman so it was hard to believe she’d never fallen. Love seemed to be all that females talked or thought about.