Her Man on Three Rivers Ranch

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Her Man on Three Rivers Ranch Page 19

by Stella Bagwell


  “Okay, we’re going, Mom,” Hannah told her mother, then snatched a hold on Nick’s hand. “Come on, Nick. Let’s go change our boots and see if Little Joe is awake.”

  As the two children raced out of the room, Maureen yelled after them, “You two leave that baby alone! He’s been jostled around enough today already!”

  “Yes, and who’s been doing most of the jostling?” Blake asked his mother as he walked over and slipped an arm around Katherine’s shoulders. “Little Joe is only two months old and you’re already trying to decide what horse he’s going to ride in the next Gold Rush Days rodeo parade.”

  Maureen laughed. “I’m not that bad. But Joe is. You’d think he was the first man on earth to have a son. And I can only imagine how bad you’re going to be once you and Katherine have a baby.”

  “Well, if I have anything to do with that,” Blake replied, “you’re not going to have to wait long.”

  Vivian turned an excited look on the two of them. “Oh, are you pregnant, Katherine?”

  “Not yet. But we’re trying.”

  “That’s the best part,” Blake said, directing a promising wink at Katherine.

  Laughing under her breath, she offered him a celery stick. “Get out of here and go talk to your brothers. This kitchen is getting too steamy.”

  * * *

  A few hours later, after everyone was stuffed with rich food and the dishes and leftovers all cleaned away, Katherine joined her husband and his brothers Holt and Joseph on the front porch of the ranch house.

  Walking to the edge of the wood-planked floor, Katherine gazed at the distant mountains bathed in a red-gold sunset.

  “All finished with the dinner mess?” Blake asked as he came to stand at her side.

  “Everything is in its place. So I thought I’d get some fresh air. Have you and your brothers been having a nice visit?”

  “Very nice. It’s not often that we get to spend leisure time together.” His eyebrows pulled together in a thoughtful frown. “And Joe was just telling me something very interesting.”

  “Oh, what’s that? He and Tessa are going to have another baby?”

  “Not this soon. No, he was telling me that Mom found an old personal notebook of Dad’s. Seems it’s been missing for years. Ever since he died, in fact.”

  Curious as to what this might mean, Katherine asked, “Does this notebook hold some significant information?”

  He shrugged. “We’re not sure. Dad had scheduled a name and date he’d planned to meet with a cattle buyer down in Phoenix. But he never got to meet with the man. Dad died the day before.”

  “And you’re thinking this cattle buyer might know something about Joel’s death?”

  “Well, Mom doesn’t recall the man and Joe has already run the man’s name through the database at the sheriff’s department. No person by that name showed up. So he’s going to try some different search angles. It’s a very long shot, but if this man can be found, he might have a helpful clue. We just don’t know.”

  She said, “For you and your whole family’s sake, I wish you could figure out what actually happened to Joel. I wish even more that your father could’ve been here with us all today.”

  Wrapping an arm around her, he pulled her close to his side. “With all my heart, I wish Dad was here, too. And that your mother and brother had been gracious enough to call and wish you a happy Thanksgiving.”

  Neither her mother nor her brother had attended Katherine and Blake’s wedding. But she’d not allowed their absence to ruin her very special day. She had too much happiness in her life to dwell on their negative attitude.

  “Don’t let it bother you, Blake. I’m not. Thanks to you, I have a huge family now. And hopefully, one of these days, Mom and Aaron will realize that they’ll never get over the past unless they start forgiving.”

  His eyes glowed with love as they traveled over her face. “Have I told you how very special you are?” he asked.

  She smiled impishly up at him. “Only about a hundred...no, make that two hundred times.”

  “Well, you’ve heard it two hundred and one times now.”

  Resting her cheek against his arm, she said, “I have a confession to make.”

  “With my stomach so full, now’s a good time to tell me.”

  She gave his arm a playful pinch. “Years ago, when I had such a teenage crush on you, I would often imagine you proposing to me. In my girlish dreams, you’d put a ring on my finger and dance me away from all the poverty and pain waiting for me back at home.” She shifted her head so that she could look up at him. “I never imagined any of those dreams would someday come true and I’d actually be married to my cowboy prince.”

  Bending, he pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Just goes to show you, my darling wife, that fairy tales can come true.”

  * * * * *

  Stella Bagwell’s next book will be out September 2018 as part of THE MONTANA MAVERICKS: THE LONELY HEARTS RANCH continuity.

  And for more MEN OF THE WEST, try these great stories:

  THE ARIZONA LAWMAN

  HER KIND OF DOCTOR

  THE COWBOY’S CHRISTMAS LULLABY

  Available now from Harlequin Special Edition!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from FORTUNE’S FAMILY SECRETS by Karen Rose Smith.

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  Fortune’s Family Secrets

  by Karen Rose Smith

  Chapter One

  Nash Tremont came down the stairs from the second floor of the Bluebonnet Bed-and-Breakfast and followed the aroma of cinnamon and sugar and some kind of bread. His boots didn’t make a sound on the steps. After all, he was a police detective and instincts died hard.

  At the bottom of the staircase, he spotted a sight that suddenly made him hungry for more than cinnamon rolls. He’d hardly said two words to the proprietress of the bed-and-breakfast but now he couldn’t stop himself. “Even a veteran cowgirl should know better than to climb a ladder that’s too short.”

  Cassie Calloway squeaked as if he’d startled her. Her name was an easy one to remember, but he wasn’t thinking about her name as she tilted on the ladder, almost losing her balance. He rushed to her side and wrapped his hands around her waist. It was a tiny waist but she was plenty curvy above and below it.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Gaining her footing once more,
she peered down at him. Her tousled brown hair flowed forward and her dark brown eyes moved from his face to his hands at her waist. He quickly removed them, though they tingled because he’d felt her warmth underneath her blouse.

  “What makes you think I’m a veteran cowgirl?” she asked, climbing down the ladder.

  “Your boots,” he answered quickly. He’d been trained to notice details.

  She looked down at her boots as if she hadn’t remembered what she was wearing. They were brown leather, well creased, with the shine long gone.

  “They’re comfortable and I like to cook in them.” She sounded a bit defensive.

  “I came down because something smelled wonderful. But if we keep up this conversation, I have a feeling you’re not going to give me anything you made for breakfast.”

  She laughed and it was a pretty sound. When had he last noticed a woman’s laughter?

  On the ceramic tile of the kitchen floor now, Cassie Calloway looked up at him. She wasn’t short, maybe about five-seven. But he was six-three so her chin had to come up for her to meet his eyes. “You didn’t come down for breakfast yesterday. Didn’t smell the bacon?”

  Yesterday he’d still been trying to make sense out of what he was doing. Oh, he knew what his mission was here in Austin, Texas. Although he was the love child of an affair between his mother and Jerome Fortune, aka Gerald Robinson, he wasn’t in Austin about that. He had no desire to see his biological father. He was after information—information that could land Gerald Robinson’s wife, Charlotte, in jail. He hoped he didn’t run into any of his half brothers or sisters, either. He didn’t want anything to muddy his investigation or sway his judgment. He was undercover and intended to keep a low profile.

  “Maybe I just like cinnamon more than bacon.” Teasing Cassie and seeing her smile seemed to make his day. Maybe because everything about why he was here was so serious.

  “I didn’t know financial consultants were so picky,” she joked back.

  He almost winced. He’d needed a cover story. A financial consultant on vacation from Mississippi seemed the perfect one to hide his real identity: a detective from Mississippi investigating fraud.

  When Cassie Calloway looked into his dark brown eyes with hers, he felt his conscience stab him. He wished he could tell her the truth. But that was ridiculous. He didn’t even know this woman, let alone know if she was trustworthy. Hormones were the downfall of many a man and he’d do well to remember that.

  He nodded to the ladder and the smoke alarm in the ceiling. “What’s the problem?”

  She opened her hand to reveal a new nine-volt battery. “I need to change the battery, but I couldn’t quite reach it.”

  “And you shouldn’t have tried. Don’t you have a handyman’s number you can call when you need one?”

  She scoffed at that and shook her head. “Handyman? I don’t think so. I have a mortgage and I need to fill rooms. That’s why I opened them to extended stays. You’re the first one to take advantage of that.”

  Nash looked around at the quirky colors of paint on the walls—lime green and sky blue—as well as a mural that had to have been hand-done. It depicted a scene of children sitting under a huge oak. A cowboy was seated on a stool with an open book in his lap as he read them a story. It was really good and he realized the bright wall colors complemented those in the painting.

  “You have a nice place here. Have you done many renovations?”

  She moved a few steps away from him as if the distance was necessary to talk to him. “I fell in love with it as soon as I saw it. It was in foreclosure. It mainly needed fresh coats of paint.”

  He nodded to the mural. “Who did your artwork?”

  Her cheeks turned a little pink. “I did.”

  “You’ve got talent.”

  Her eyes were bright and her smile wide when she said, “Thank you. I love to paint. I mean real paintings. I was an art history major in college, and I took education courses so I could teach. But teaching positions are hard to find in these days of budget cuts, especially art teaching positions.”

  Glancing around again, taking in the whole bed-and-breakfast’s first floor as if it was a piece of art, he decided, “You shouldn’t let your talent go to waste.”

  “Oh, I don’t. I teach private art lessons, and I help with the community art center.” After a brief hesitation, she said, “Now that I told you about me, why don’t you tell me about Mississippi?”

  He knew she’d called his reference in Oklahoma, the state where he was born. Dave Preston was a close friend who could and would adhere to Nash’s cover story.

  Nash held his hand out for the battery. “Why don’t you let me take care of this before you actually need the smoke alarm?”

  “If you’re sure you don’t mind—”

  Not minding a bit, he took the battery from her palm. The tips of his fingers touching her skin sent an electric jolt through him. No, no, no! He didn’t have time for an attraction now. He had to save his energy for the job he was here to do and not be distracted by a pretty woman.

  Climbing the ladder, he easily changed the battery. Then he was down the ladder once more.

  She glanced down at his well-worn boots. “Your boots look comfortable, too.”

  He had to chuckle. “Yes, they are. Perfect for walking or driving.”

  “Not for meeting clients?”

  Damn it. He was going to have to buy a new pair of boots so he could show her he dressed up for client meetings. Not that he had any of those planned.

  He winked at her. “I prefer black boots for a more professional look.”

  She seemed to look him up and down, from his dark brown hair, over his squarish jaw, down his red T-shirt and his jeans. Her gaze on him made him feel hot.

  “I clean up well, too.”

  She blushed. “Oh, I didn’t think you didn’t. How about that cinnamon roll?” she asked, obviously embarrassed.

  “That sounds good. Join me?” The question came out of his mouth before he thought better of it. He really shouldn’t have asked her that.

  She hesitated and he thought that was wise of her. After all, even though she’d called his reference, he was practically a stranger. But then deciding it must be safe enough to have breakfast with him, she waved at the eat-at counter on the kitchen side of the room. The other side of the room was filled with tables and chairs, no doubt for the dinner he remembered she also served. He hadn’t taken advantage of that yesterday simply because he didn’t want to get tied up with her or any other guests. Anonymity was best cultivated if he spent most of his time alone. However, after a quick canvas of the comfortable-looking sitting area, he could see himself working on his laptop there.

  “Coffee?” Cassie asked.

  “If it’s black and strong.”

  “It is,” she said, but then smiled. “I dose mine with cream and sugar.”

  He rolled his eyes in mock horror. “None of those for me.”

  “At least I don’t serve flavored coffees.”

  He laughed at her tone. “Your guests don’t ask for a hazelnut latte or maybe a caramel macchiato?”

  “How do you know about that, since you’re a black-coffee drinker and all?”

  Their gazes locked for a heartbeat. It was just one of those awareness moments that passed between a man and a woman when they felt chemistry. “I’ve been in a coffee shop or two.”

  She looked away first. “I’ve been known to make a flavored pot of coffee for my women guests. Most of the men are like you and just want theirs black.”

  Just like him? He doubted that.

  More serious now, she asked, “Is there a reason you didn’t stop for breakfast yesterday? You just filled a travel mug with coffee and left.”

  He’d have to watch himself around her. She also seemed to pay attention to details. “I was in a hu
rry.”

  “And not today?”

  “I have an appointment this morning but it’s a little later.” Another lie. Well, not exactly a lie. He did have an appointment to use a computer at the library. He had research to do, and it was going to take hours and hours if not days or weeks. But he’d find what he was looking for.

  She motioned again to the stool at the eat-at counter. “Sit and I’ll get your breakfast.”

  “I can put the ladder away for you first if you’d like.”

  She seemed to contemplate that for a few beats. “Okay. Let me show you where it goes.”

  He noticed that Cassie moved quickly and gracefully. He couldn’t help but watch the gentle sway of her hips as she led him through the dining area. To the right, there was a screened-in porch. It might be nice to sit out there with his laptop, too. He wished he could just access the records he wanted on there, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want any research being traced back to him. He’d switch around from computer to computer at the library on different days. Once he found what he was looking for, he’d have to have it printed out. There again he didn’t want to send emails to himself and have a record of it. His boss in Mississippi had been totally against this investigation because their original case there had been closed. But once Nash had found that Charlotte Robinson could have used the alias Charlene Pickett, he just couldn’t let it go.

  Following Cassie distracted him from the work he intended to do. She was sexy in jeans and a boyfriend shirt. She’d rolled up the sleeves and left the collar open. All too well, he could imagine her in one of his shirts.

  Putting the brakes on that image, he let her guide him down a hall.

  She motioned to the left to a half-open door. “That’s my suite.”

  Continuing down the hall, she opened another door on the left. He could see right away it was a utility room with a washer and dryer, a step stool and an open ironing board.

  She pointed to the back of the room. “Can you just prop the ladder there for now?”

 

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