by Laura Wright
As the truck moved past her and Cole gave her a wave, a quiet thrill went through her. Thing was, she didn’t want to pretend that what she was feeling wasn’t real. But she couldn’t allow herself to get involved with Cole Cavanaugh. Not any more than she already was. It was dangerous. She glanced down at the cookies. She didn’t want to see her dad today, didn’t want to question him—not yet. But she knew she had to give Cole something when she saw him tomorrow.
Maybe the dad she could see and question was Natalie’s.
* * *
“You haven’t spoken to me in weeks, and now you walk around this house ignoring me.”
Blue poured himself a cup of coffee, sweetened with a few spoons of sugar, then turned to regard his mother. “I’m not ignoring you.”
Just didn’t have anything to say. Anything that didn’t deserve a mouthful of soap. And he was way too old for that now.
Closing the refrigerator door, Elena sighed. “Fine, then. Treating me like a . . .” She didn’t finish. Just started laying out all the fixings for a salad on the counter.
“Like a what, Mom?” Blue inquired, taking a healthy gulp of his coffee. “Like a person who can’t be trusted?”
Her jaw tightened as she snapped the end off a carrot. “I deserve that.”
Blue pushed away from the counter. He wasn’t going to stand there and have this conversation. Not now. Maybe not ever. He could barely look at the woman who’d lied to his face every day of his life. Who pretended that Everett Cavanaugh was just her employer, when in reality the man was her lover. And his father.
His lip curled. “I have work to do,” he said, gulping down the rest of the coffee. The burning liquid scorched his throat.
“You always have work to do,” she returned.
“Yeah, well, this place needs runnin’.” He stalked past her.
“This place needs to know happiness again,” she uttered softly.
But Blue heard her. Happiness, he mused blackly, heading for the front door. He couldn’t even imagine what that was. What it looked like. If he’d thought he’d experienced it before, he now questioned it. Shit, he questioned everything.
Well, everything but her. His Cowgirl. She was the constant. The one person unblemished by the Triple C’s past.
He pulled his cell phone from his back pocket as he exited the house and made his way down to the barn. And when he saw she’d texted him, he felt his lungs relax. He could expel and take in air once again. He could allow himself to feel.
Hard day?
He smiled at that.
How’d you know?
J
He smiled at that too. Then started typing. Behind him and beside him, horses nickered in their stalls.
Part of me says leave this place and never come back. It’ll drag you down. Its ugly memories will never give you a day’s peace. But the other part says this ranch is yours. Fight for it. Take it. Claim it.
Granted, he hadn’t told Cowgirl everything that had been going on—and no details. They didn’t do details. But she knew enough. Ranch owner had passed on and left his place to his four children. Four. And Blue was messed up about it. Had a father, but now that father was gone. Mother had lied to him. Where did he belong?
Yep. She knew enough.
What does your heart say, Cowboy?
Shoot, his heart was pained one moment, split in two the next—then running a race inside his chest. The latter happened every time he heard from her.
It says, meet Cowgirl. Face to face. Eyes to eyes.
Lips to lips?
His gut clenched. Hell, yeah. She had no idea how his nights were spent. Where he went in his mind. How his hand was just trying to keep up.
Before he could type anything, she wrote to him again.
I wish that could happen. I want to see you more than anything. But my life’s too up in the air right now. I need to feel stable, settled.
I got stable and settled right here.
Don’t tempt me.
If I had a place for you to come, a place where you felt safe and settled—would you?
He was talking rashly, impetuously, but he meant it. He needed to see her, have her close. With what was coming—the choices and decisions that needed to be made . . .
Maybe.
A few yards away, a couple of ranch hands were riding toward the barn. Blue knew he had only a few seconds of privacy.
I gotta go, Cowgirl. Think about what I said. What I’m offering.
He shoved his phone into the back pocket of his jeans without waiting for a response, a sign-off, and went to get his horse saddled. If he could allow himself to believe it, take it, there might just be a sunrise in his future. Damn . . . He’d missed the hopeful, peaceful, new light of day.
Twelve
Grace checked her phone again. She’d rescheduled two clients. They hadn’t been all that happy about it, but she’d promised them a substantial discount for the trouble. She glanced up and watched her father’s best friend walk into the jail’s small visitors’ room. He was wearing a navy blue jumpsuit and sporting a pair of tarnished handcuffs. A cold shiver moved up her spine. She hoped the trouble was worth it.
“Dr. Hunter,” he crooned, taking the seat opposite her, the only thing separating them, a metal table. “What are you doin’ here, girl? Your daddy send you?”
She shook her head.
“Naw,” he said. “That boy is in a jail cell of his own, now, ain’t he?”
Grace didn’t respond. She’d never realized before how deep and menacing his voice was.
“I got the cookies you brought,” he continued. “Well, two of them anyway. A guard ate the rest. ‘Checking ’em for weapons,’ he said.” Caleb snorted. “That son of bitch.”
So that’s what had done it, she mused. The cookies. Natalie’s cookies. They’d lured him out of his cell to talk to her. Wasn’t about her dad. She wondered if Caleb even gave a shit about her dad. As far as she knew, he’d barely visited the man in the past year.
“I just saw your daughter,” she managed. “We talked a bit. Then she gave us the cookies when we left.”
His eyes lit for about a half second. Then he sneered. “Us? Who’s us?”
Oh, shit. Stupid . . .
“Wasn’t one of them Cavanaughs, was it? They tried to get in here to see me.” He grunted. “Can’t stand how those bastards are ripping apart my family.”
“Well, maybe they didn’t appreciate how you treated James’s fiancée, Sheridan O’Neil.”
His eyes roamed over her face until they lifted to catch her gaze. “That girl is a right bitch.”
Heat slammed her in the chest. No, she clearly did not know Caleb Palmer. “Listen,” she began. “I wanted to talk to you about my dad. I was visiting him yesterday—”
“Good man,” he interrupted. “Such a good man.”
“He says the same about you.”
His mouth curved up at the corners, and his eyes softened.
“He says a lot of things,” she continued. “Things that don’t really make sense to me.”
“What kind of things?” Wariness was back in his eyes.
“Things about the past. His friendship with you. Something you may have taken blame for?” When he didn’t react, she leaned forward an inch or two, her disgust overpowering her fear. “You told James Cavanaugh you knew who killed his sister.”
“Did I?” he said smoothly. “Don’t remember that. Must be all the choking he did. Squeezed the memories right out of my mind.”
That’s how a Cavanaugh male reacts when scum like you is threatening his woman. God, just thinking about how Caleb had crashed Mac and Deacon’s wedding to get close enough to Sheridan O’Neil to . . . to what? Hurt her? Kill her?
Like Cass?
Her breath caught in her chest, and she stared hard at the man in front of her. “Wha
t happened to that girl?” she demanded. “Where you a part of it? Was my father?”
A slow, evil smile curved his lips. “Like I said, your father’s a right good man.” He stood up. “Tell him I said hello when you see him next.”
As he walked away, headed for the guard who had been watching them the whole time, Grace felt her skin crawl. She knew without a doubt that he’d hurt Sheridan, and would probably do it again if given the chance. But she honestly didn’t know if he had any information about Cass’s disappearance. He seemed mentally unstable, and she prayed he never got back out on the streets.
Her phone buzzed, and she glanced down at the readout. It was Rudy. She had thirty minutes to her next patient. What was she going to tell Cole? What was she going to offer him in exchange for him going with her to see her father? Because he wouldn’t let up. And if she was in his shoes, she wouldn’t either.
At least she’d have a day to think about it, to plan, she thought as she headed out of the jail into the warm and welcoming sunshine.
* * *
For thirty minutes, Cole had been asking himself just what the hell he was thinking. Acting like a teenage boy with a crush? Turn around, get back in your truck, and head to Deac’s place. The chopper’s waiting on you. And yet he pulled back the door of the veterinary office and went inside. He hadn’t been in there since his law-breaking days, but it was pretty much the same except for the sounds of a few dogs barking. He spotted a young Latino man sitting behind the reception desk, and he headed that way.
“Afternoon,” the man called out. “Can I help you?”
Cole glanced around. “The Doc in?”
“She is, but she’s finishing up with a patient. If you’d like to wait . . . or is there something I can help you with?”
“You know how long she might be?”
“I don’t.” The young man set down the paperwork he’d been engrossed in and gave Cole his full attention. And by full attention, Cole guessed the guy was getting pretty suspicious. After all, he had no dog, no cat. Just a need to see the Doc.
“We’re friends,” Cole said, as if that explained everything.
Clearly it didn’t, because the guy’s brown eyes narrowed. “If you’d like to leave her a message, I’d be happy to give—”
His words were cut off abruptly by a door flinging open. Two chocolate Labs burst out, straining their leashes as they whined and whined.
“Just keep them away from the oranges,” Grace told the older man who was holding the leashes. “Otherwise I’ll be seeing you once a week.”
The man nodded in understanding. “It’s our neighbor’s tree, Dr. Hunter. They won’t stop going over there. They eat them off the ground.”
“Maybe it’s time to invest in a fence,” Grace said, patting his shoulder a couple of times. “Or maybe don’t let them get out without being on a leash.”
“This is Texas,” the man continued.
“I know, I know. But it’s you who has to clean up that mess.”
She glanced up then and spotted him. Her eyes softened and a slow, genuine smile touched her lips. “Hi.”
He touched his hat the way he’d seen Deac and James do a hundred times. “Doc.” He’d never been much for manners, but there were some people in this world who made you want to be better, do better.
“What are you . . . ?” she started, then turned back to the older man. “Mr. Kennedy, Rudy here will set you up with meds and some food. The girls need food that’s gentle on their stomachs for a few days. And I’ll call you later to check up on them.”
He nodded. “Thanks, Dr. Hunter. And I’ll keep ’em away from the neighbor’s.”
As he and the two Labs headed over to the reception desk, Grace motioned for Cole to follow her. He knew instantly where they were going and suppressed the urge to grin.
Scene of the crime.
“So, that’s Rudy,” Cole said once they were inside her office.
Grace closed the door and headed for her desk. “That’s Rudy.”
“How long’s he been working here?”
“A couple of months,” she answered tentatively. “Why are you here and not in Austin?” A sudden anxious look crossed her features. “Is it your ankle? Are you in pain again?”
“Nah. Ankle’s good.”
“Oh.” She sat on the edge of her desk. She looked a little distracted. “So what’s going on?”
That squeeze thing was happening in his chest again. He’d had it on the way over, and the night before when he’d been an ass and kissed the woman who’d been nothing but kind and cool to him. And now he was going to act like Ass Number Two.
“I stopped by because . . . well . . .” He looked up, connected with her confused, concerned gaze. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“Okay.”
“How do you feel about helicopters?”
Her brows knit together. He was so damn smooth—kind of like a piece of barbed wire.
“I want you to come with me, Grace,” he managed to shove out.
Her lips parted. “To Austin?”
“Yes.”
A pink blush touched her cheeks. “Oh. Why?”
Well, that wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. Just a yes or no—or more likely, no fuckin’ way. “You ever seen a fight? Boxing match? Anything like that?”
“I saw a boxing match. But on TV.”
“And did you keep watching or did you turn it off?” he probed.
“Cole, I’m confused. And normally I’m a pretty bright person, so the fact that I’m not picking up on what’s happening here is sort of freaking me—”
Ah, damn. He wasn’t good at circling the wagons. “I’m into you,” he ground out. “All right? There it is. I’m sayin’ it plain. And when I thought about going to Austin for the night, I thought it’d be nice to have you with me. I know this isn’t a good idea, with what you and I are trying to do. You for your dad and me for Cass. Better if I don’t come over to your house ever again. We do our investigating over a table at the diner.” He exhaled heavily. He sounded like an idiot. “I have training later this afternoon—you don’t have to go to that, of course—but we could go to dinner. Austin is a great town—don’t know if you’ve been there. Deac said we could have full use of the chopper, so I can run you home later.”
She said nothing. Just stared at him. Something was going on behind her eyes, though. He could tell. Large, intelligent emeralds flickering in the light of her office lamps.
Then she crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin. “No pizza.”
“Come again?” he asked, confused and feeling like a twelve-year-old boy.
She laughed. “Just thinking we could have something else besides pizza. Just a joke.”
Understanding dawned, and it felt pretty great. He grinned wide. “I have a great place to take you.”
“And I’d like to go to your training too, if that’s okay.”
“Really?”
She nodded.
“It’s pretty violent. Might make you either sick to your stomach or completely repelled by me.”
She laughed again. “Maybe. But you know, I see blood, guts, and broken bones all the time.”
It felt like a balloon was being blown up inside his chest. So full, so tight. Warm too. It was the strangest sensation he’d ever had. And maybe the most addictive. She wanted to go with him. To dinner. To his training. It was the first time he’d ever asked anyone . . .
“What about your work?” he asked. “I don’t want to take you away from anything.”
“I’m actually done for the day.” She looked down for a second. “I only had a couple of patients. And the few things that need finishing up can be done by my very capable assistant Rudy.”
Something pinged in his chest, popped the warm balloon. “Good man.”
; She looked up, caught his gaze. “Rudy? Yes, he is.”
“Just like the Rev.”
She looked at him strangely. “Suppose so.”
“You lookin’ for good, Doc?” He couldn’t stop the words from spilling out of his mouth. Because he needed to know. And maybe she needed to know he wasn’t that—good. Didn’t know how to be. Didn’t want to be. Didn’t deserve to be.
She didn’t answer him at first. Just got up, walked around her desk, tidied up a few things. Then she took off her lab coat and hung it on the back of her chair. She was wearing jeans and a black T-shirt that was fitted real nice to her upper body. She grabbed her purse and came to stand beside him.
Her eyes twinkled and her lips curved into a happy smile. “You’ll have me back by midnight?”
He grinned. “Okay, Cinderella.” Then he offered her his arm. Shoot, if he was going to attempt the manners thing, might as well go balls out.
Thirteen
Grace had the reputation of a woman with an iron stomach. Nothing turned her. She could go on boats, fly for hours in constant turbulence, put animals’ guts back inside their bodies and sew them up. And yet the second she walked into the gym and saw a man in the ring hit another man so hard one of his teeth flew out of his mouth and landed not six inches from her shoe, she nearly lost it.
Yep. Horrific.
Is this what I came to see? she’d asked herself. And worse, when Cole came out would he be doing the dental work?
“You all right, little lady?”
Grace glanced up and shook off her thoughts. She was sitting on a bench beside Cole’s trainer. His name was Matty, and she was pretty sure—after the introduction they’d had and her bout with tooth-flying nausea—he didn’t like her.
“Fine, thanks,” she said, forcing a smile.
Matty inhaled deeply, looked around the decent-sized gym with its two sparring rings, a large, square-matted area that was dotted with punching bags, and a full weight room. “I got to tell you, I don’t think you should be here.”