“I think Amber intended to stay with you guys,” Calvin warned.
“That was the original plan. She was going to come back to Washington State to give us a hand with the babies. Heather really misses her twin. But since the babies are in the NICU,” Pat shrugged. “Might be better if she came back next month.”
“She balked at staying at the Bridgefield. I had to inform her that she was family. I thought you were making her an allowance in lieu of giving her that money Clive left?”
Their Great-Grandfather Clive Bascom had left six million dollars for his illegitimate daughter Shirley who had passed away before she could receive his bequest. Amber and Heather were Shirley’s step-granddaughters and her heirs. Amber ought to have been well provided for.
“She wouldn’t let me give her a red cent,” Patrick groused. “I finally gave Heather the money and told her to make Amber take it. I don’t think she’s had much success. About all Amber would let me do was fix her up a job on the Double B. Laura says she’s working out well in the stables.”
“She’s dating Lance Prescott,” Calvin informed his cousin.
“A good man.”
Calvin snorted. “Probably thinks she’s loaded.” The Bascom billions attracted fortune hunters the way carrion attracted vultures.
Patrick laughed. “Prescott probably thinks she’s a lovely young woman. And since she looks exactly like my wife, I have to confess that the attraction seems obvious to me. My sister-in-law can be mighty sweet — when she’s not talking to me! I got off on the wrong foot with Amber, and she mistrusts me. Probably she hasn’t given Prescott the rough edge of her tongue.”
“She could do better than a stable hand with a ruined face,” Cal pointed out. Dollars to doughnuts, she was too naive to realize that Prescott was after something other than her luscious young body.
“The Dupré twins are more interested in a man’s character than in his appearance – or his wallet. As I have reason to know.” Patrick’s voice was tart.
Cal kept his thoughts to himself. It seemed pretty obvious that Heather had turned up pregnant to snare herself a rich husband.
Pat laughed. He clapped Cal on the shoulder. “I am a lucky son of a bear, you poor suspicious fool,” he said lowering his voice. “If I hadn’t knocked Heather up, she would never have given me a second chance, let alone married me. Even if my daughters had trapped me into marrying Heather, instead of the other way around, I’d be the luckiest man alive.”
Instead of arguing with this sentimental nonsense, Cal made a noncommittal noise.
“Jeremy has been a new man since my accident,” Pat continued.
“What are you talking about?”
“Dad’s trying to mend things with Diana.”
“They’re already divorced,” Cal pointed out. “Have been for months.”
“I know. But Jeremy seems to have realized that their problems were more of his making than hers. Laura says he’s no longer seeing that investment banker.”
“Tiffany?”
“That’s the one.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah. And he’s been out to Chicago any number of times to see Diana.”
Cal shook his head. “He doesn’t stand a chance. She has her alimony and she’s done.”
“Dad didn’t treat her right,” Patrick corrected. “I wouldn’t blame her a bit if she didn’t feel forgiving. Infidelity is a dealbreaker for most women.”
Money was a great soother of indignant female sensibilities and Jeremy had plenty. If he wanted Diana back, he could have her, Cal supposed. But why would he bother? Plenty more where she came from.
Pat shot him a direct look. “Dad needs to make it right with her before he can move on.” He stopped to rap on the open door of a room. “Here we are.”
Calvin preceded him into Heather’s room. Amber was sitting beside her sister’s bed, and looking happy and worried at the same time. They were conversing in low voices. But Cal caught Prescott’s name.
“Prescott had no business taking you to that dive.” Calvin said disapprovingly from the doorway. “It’s no place for a girl like you.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Amber~
“Hank’s isn’t that bad.” Patrick cut in before Amber could ask Calvin Bascom just what kind of a girl he thought she was.
Not that she cared a plugged nickel for what that stuffed shirt thought of her. Calvin was even worse than the men in her clan, without having the smallest right to comment on her behavior or choices.
“I’ve spent a lot of happy hours at Hank’s myself.” Patrick sounded amused by his cousin’s remark. He bent to kiss Heather. “Our girls look great this morning, darling. You get to feed one of them in twenty minutes.”
Immediately Heather looked less tired. Patrick offered a hand to Amber who stood up and kissed him on his bristly cheek. She had to make an effort to get on better terms with Heather’s husband. At least Patrick looked as if he had been up all night worrying like a decent man, instead of like a fashion plate without a care in the world.
Amber glared at Calvin but directed her words to Patrick. “How’s it going? I can’t wait to meet my nieces.”
A bulging muscle twitched in Calvin’s big square jaw. He didn’t care for being left out of the conversation. Good. What did he know about the simple pleasures of a working man’s life? It was hardly Lance’s fault that she was a bear. Or that out of a roomful of hardworking, respectable folks, some strange snake shifter had picked her to harass.
Lance had been alert enough to take care of her. He could have sat waiting at their table while Blondie sliced her face open. And instead of being thankful that Lance had saved her from a thug, Calvin had nothing but criticism.
“You better start walking, if you want to get to the NICU in time for that feeding,” Patrick told Heather. “No wheelchairs today, sweetheart. Nurse’s orders.”
“Good. I’m pretty steady on my feet now. Amber stood outside while I took my shower. But I didn’t get dizzy or wobbly.”
“Hmm.” Patrick exchanged a worried glance with Amber and then stared at Calvin until he got the message and stalked into the hall.
Amber got Heather’s bathrobe out of the closet while Patrick helped her put her slippers on and stand up. He tenderly folded the pink fleece robe around his wife, hovering at her elbow as if he expected Heather to faint.
“Right after the babies were born, I was so lightheaded that I passed out,” Heather explained.
“Lying down,” Patrick cut in when Amber couldn’t suppress a horrified gasp.
“Just once,” Heather said.
“I wish I had known that before I stuffed you in the shower,” Amber responded.
“I’m much better. I just need to get some sleep.” Heather began to shuffle towards the door. Patrick walked beside her, concern in every line of his body.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Double B
Amber~
“Welcome back,” Lance said as Amber came bustling into the stable block.
Big dark faces looked out of the stalls and Buddha nodded at her. Amber scratched the stallion’s nose. “Thank you,” she murmured. Lance stood so close to her that they were almost touching, but she didn’t feel crowded. Apparently he was the one man who could stand as close as he pleased.
“How was your sister?”
“Pretty good – considering she had just had three babies.”
“I thought you were going to stay for a while.”
Amber moved off toward the back wall and the row of hanging pitchforks. Lance followed. “I was, but the babies are still in intensive care. Heather wants me to come to stay when they’re all home.”
“I hear all three are girls.”
“Yup. Want to see?” She pulled out her cell.
“Of course.” He admired Stella, Hope and Bethany in their incubators. “They sure do look tiny. But cute as a bug’s ear.”
Amber nodded. “Everyone says they are doing fine, but
all they do is sleep.”
“I think that’s normal for babies,” Lance reassured her. “You get started in Lane Three. I want you to tell me what you notice about Sissy.” Sissy was Alberta’s Silver Scilla. The bay mare was due to give birth.
Amber had been working with the big mare for two weeks. Now she shifted Sissy to one side of the stall so she could muck out. She rapidly filled her wheelbarrow with soiled straw. The horse’s huge belly was even more swollen than it had been two days earlier. And she smelled stronger.
But given the quantity of horse apples in the straw, Sissy was still eating her usual amount of silage, or maybe a little more. She began tucking into the fresh hay Amber provided even before it was properly distributed in the manager.
Lance appeared in the doorway. “Well?”
“She’s bigger. And hungrier.” Was that it? Or was it the smell thing?
“And?” He was grinning.
Amber shook her head. “Let me groom her and ask again.”
“Okay.” He slipped away. She heard him greet the boss’ gelding Dakota in a soft croon.
Sissy’s glossy dark flanks were muscular. Her chest was broad and strong. Her shoes were in good shape. Her ears were clean. No burrs were stuck in her mane or tail. She did have a small amount of discharge dripping down her hind legs. That was new and the source of her stronger smell. It was probably what Lance was expecting her to find. If she remembered correctly, discharge meant that Sissy would foal soon.
She combed the mare’s long tail with extra care and braided it in preparation for the labor. Sissy normally enjoyed being groomed. But today she was impatient with the brush and curry comb. She kept swishing her tail in Amber’s face. It stung. Particularly when it struck directly across her eyes. But she got the job done.
Lance’s voice made her jump. “Well?”
“She’s in labor, right?”
“Just about. Tonight, or maybe tomorrow night. Would you like to stand watch with me this evening?”
“I’d love that.” She hesitated. “I guess I’ll have to go in to the sheriff’s office today and explain about that fight at Hank’s.”
Lance patted her shoulder. “I’ll go with you after stables. I have to sign my own statement. Believe me, the sheriff would wait much longer than this for you to do that paperwork. I told him that the Bascoms had flown you to Washington State to be with your sister.”
“What difference does that make?”
Lance only grinned at her. Well, duh. What was she thinking? The Bascoms could do as they pleased in Success, Colorado.
Amber was still a little nervous when they got to the sheriff’s office. She was glad Lance was in the room too. Of course it wasn’t the prospect of giving a statement or talking to the perfectly friendly sheriff that had made her uneasy. It was the probable consequences of giving testimony against a snake shifter that frightened her.
She was more than a little surprised when the sheriff told her Orville Sutton was still in the county lockup. She had half-expected that the snake would have slithered off by now. It was all too easy for a snake to escape from a lockup. The narrowest crack or vent would do.
“The judge set his bail at ten grand,” Ramirez told them. “I guess that was too high for Mr. Sutton. At any rate, he hasn’t posted bond.”
Lance grunted and his lips tightened.
“What about his friend? That guy Dog?” Amber asked. Although he wasn’t a shifter, Dog smelled like trouble too.
“Mr. Sutton’s associate has left the county,” Ramirez said. “We came up empty on his name, which could either mean that he’s clean, or that Mr. Sutton lied about his buddy’s true name.”
That information was altogether too vague to suit Amber. Neither of those jerks had struck her as the forgiving type. “Do you know where Dog is now?”
“Nope. We don’t have the manpower to put a deputy on a citizen with no outstanding warrants,” Ramirez explained. “However much we’d like to.”
“Well, do you know where they are from?” Lance asked.
“Mr. Sutton’s driver’s license was issued in Illinois. He has only a couple of misdemeanors to his name. No current employment, but that’s not a crime.” Ramirez sounded as dissatisfied with his sketchy facts as Amber felt.
It was obvious the sheriff’s department had been unable to adequately trace Blondie. That was a red flag all by itself. These days the internet could track anyone alive. Anyone could be thrown out of work, but the absence of a job combined with his patchy background, indicated that Blondie bore watching.
Amber looked between Ramirez’s big stern face and Lance’s even graver expression. They were both uneasy about Blondie and Dog, without quite knowing why. But she could hardly blurt out that Sutton was a snake. Briefly, she wished she were back in French Town among bears.
Ramirez had been taping their conversation. He asked a few more questions before he turned off his phone. He was obviously mentally reviewing Amber’s answers against what she had said and he had seen on Saturday. He must have decided it was close enough. He stood up.
“I’ll have this typed up. I suggest you folks go get some lunch. Come back in an hour or so to sign it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Lance~
He smiled at Amber and ended his call. “Carlos knows we won’t be back for at least another couple of hours. Can I buy you lunch?”
“I’d like that.”
So would he. Even if the occasion wasn’t ideal. It was good to have her back. She looked as good in the flesh as she had in his dreams.
The diner was empty except for the usual table of old men who were spending the day gossiping as they did rain or shine. Lance nodded politely to them as he escorted Amber to a booth in the corner. Not that there was any such thing as privacy at the only coffee shop in town.
Amber gazed around at the red vinyl booths, at the counter with its row of stools and revolving glass and chrome pie safe. She looked bemused, as well she might. This place was a relic of the 1950s, not because retro was hot, but because it was the genuine article. The Blue Moon Cafe was slightly shabby from years of use, but in good repair.
“What would you like?” he asked. “Something hot?”
Amber’s eyes went to the old green milkshake machine behind the counter. She leaned across the table and spoke softly. “I’d sure like a milkshake if that machine isn’t just for looks.”
“It worked the last time I came in here.”
“The one at the French Town diner packed up when I was sixteen.” She sighed. “No one could fix it, and Lester – that’s the owner – claimed it was too expensive to replace. For the last few years it has just sat on a shelf next to the chrome toaster with the flip sides and a kettle shaped like a sixties headlight. Just a memory of its glory days.” It was an amusing comment, but she didn’t seem amused. There was sadness back of her eyes that no broken milkshake machine had put there.
The middle-aged waitress came over with her notepad and a couple of menus. Lily was wearing her usual pink uniform with a white apron. “Hey, Lance,” she greeted him cheerfully.
“Howdy, Lily. Have you met Amber? She’s hired on at the stud.”
“Hey, Amber. She the one you took to the dance Saturday night?” Lily’s eyes were avid.
“I am,” Amber said distinctly. “Unfortunately, the evening did not end as we intended.”
“I guess not. Either of you know the guy who pulled the knife?”
“No, ma’am.” Amber’s voice was soft and sweet. “I guess he was just some ornery drunk. The sheriff says he’s not from around here.”
Balked, Lily switched tactics. “Where are you from, honey?”
“Washington State.” Amber gave the waitress a big smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Oh, yes.” Washington struck no chord with Lily. She lost interest. “What can I get you folks?”
“I’ll have burger, a salad, and a vanilla milkshake, please.”
“I’ll have th
e same,” Lance said. “But make my shake chocolate.”
Lily trotted off and left them alone. “Sorry about the interrogation,” Lance said.
“It would be the same back home,” Amber confessed. “Everybody knows everybody. And everybody’s nosy.”
“Small towns. Ya gotta love ’em. You just wait till Lily takes her coffee pot across to the coffee klatch.” He indicated it with his chin. “As soon as she tells them your name, and where you’re from, she’ll be back to find out if you’re connected to the gal who married Mr. Patrick.”
“I guess people around here are interested in anything the Bascoms do. I didn’t expect that when I came out here.”
“Yup. The Bascoms are the movers and shakers in this town, and a perennial source of gossip. When Lily asks about your sister, show her those photos of the babies. Brag on them a bit.”
“Divert her, you mean?”
“I do.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Lance~
Amber smiled. This time her blue eyes sparkled. He figured he should take advantage of her having settled down. “Do you want to tell me why you are so upset about the prospect of testifying against Blondie?” he asked.
“He struck me as the kind of guy who’s vindictive,” she said slowly. “If he isn’t sent to jail…” Her voice trailed off.
“Yeah. A fellow who whips out a knife when a woman defends herself, sure has a king-sized chip on his shoulder.”
“Pulling his knife when I used my boot on his foot was out of proportion,” she said. “But so was grabbing me just for saying I didn’t want to dance. The more I think about it, the weirder he seems.”
She had that right. Lance was uneasy about that pair, and wasn’t about to let his guard down. It wasn’t as if the county borders were defended by razor wire and machine guns. Dog could slip back into the area and no one would be the wiser.
“What if he comes after me – or us?” she whispered.
“We’ll keep an eye out. Luckily the stud has good security. We had a little trouble with rustlers and saboteurs last year*, so Steve stepped up our defenses. There are cameras everywhere.”
Bear Fate: A Billionaire Oil Bearons Romance (Bear Fursuits Book 8) Page 6