by Tawny Taylor
“Morgan!” the gorgeous housekeeper yelled.
She knew my name?
Should I know hers?
I squinted and tried not to look like I was staring.
“It’s me, Carrie, though nowadays everyone calls me Caroline.”
Carrie? Carrie!
Oh.
My.
God.
The Caroline in front of me looked nothing like the Carrie I remembered.
Carrie had been quiet and bookish as a teen. With frizzy hair, bad skin, and braces. And yes, her body had been…nothing like this woman’s. “Carrie—I mean, Caroline-- I didn’t recognize you. Wow.”
“No problem. I’m used to it.” Her smile was so bright it would light up the entire freaking state. The new and vastly improved Carrie dragged me into the house by the elbow. She laughed. “I’ve changed a little.”
“Just a little,” I agreed with a nod.
“But not you. You’re as fucking beautiful as ever.”
Beautiful? I blushed at the compliment. I’d never known she thought I was beautiful. She’d never said so. Then again, back then she hadn’t said much to me at all. “Well, thank you.” This Caroline wasn’t just different on the outside. She was different on the inside too. More confident and outspoken.
Leading me toward the back of the house, she said, “I’m assuming you came to see Clay?”
“Um, yeah.”
“I’ve been meaning to come by to see you since you came back. But I’ve been a little busy.” She gave me an apologetic grimace as we meandered through the open space.
I gaped, awestruck by how magnificent this house and everything in it was. It looked like it had come straight out of a magazine. Or one of those fix-up shows. Harper would go downright bonkers if she saw this place.
From what I could tell the main living space was one massive open area, with the kitchen and all its spectacular appliances, gleaming countertops, and custom built cabinetry sitting smack dab in the middle. Whatever brilliant designer Clay had hired to design the place had arranged clusters of comfortable but chic furnishings around the perimeter to take full advantage of the views. At the rear towered a massive fireplace, flanked on either side by floor-to-ceiling windows.
I said, “No need to explain. I stopped by your apartment one night.”
“You did? When?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” I ran a fingertip across the cool marble counter. “Maybe a couple weeks ago? You weren’t home.”
“Yeah. I’m not home much these days.”
I caught myself staring again at Carrie. This couldn’t be the same girl that I knew four years ago. It just couldn’t be.
She gave me a look, the kind that said she was fully aware of my disbelief.
My face burned. How awful was I, making such a big deal out of her makeover? The fact was she hadn’t been ugly back then. The way I was acting, she probably assumed that was exactly what I thought. “Sorry. I’m just…blown away. You weren’t ugly by any stretch--”
“Never thought that dumpy, sad, shy girl would grow up to look like this?” she asked, indicating her body by swooping her hands down her sides.
“It’s more the change in confidence that’s caught me by surprise,” I corrected. That was it. It wasn’t the hair, which was now thick and glorious and frizz-free. Or the acne-free complexion. Or the movie starlet smile. Or the size zero dress she was wearing. It was the inner beauty that outshined all of that.
She nodded. “The outside stuff was easy to fix. The inside, not so much.”
“Not that you were pathetic or anything—“
“That was exactly what I was then. Pathetic. But not anymore.” She stopped, motioning toward the wall of windows. Upon closer inspection, the views were beyond spectacular. I stepped forward. “Wow, this place is phenomenal.”
“Thank you,” a voice said.
Clay’s voice.
It came from my right.
A couch.
There he was. Lounging in a snug black tank shirt and pair of sweatpants. White bandages covered his shoulder. But if not for those bandages, he would have looked completely healthy. His color was much better than it had been when I’d seen him last.
His lip curling slightly, he started leaning forward, as if to stand.
I halted him. “No. Please. Don’t’ get up.” I sat across from him, in a leather chair that wrapped around my body like a full body hug. “How are you feeling?”
“He’s feeling like shit, but he won’t admit it,” Carrie piped in.
Clay slid his sister a warning glare. “I’m fine, dammit. I wish everyone would stop fussing over me like I’m an invalid.”
Carrie and I exchanged amused grins. Clay didn’t like being babied. Even when he needed it.
Boo hoo for him.
Carrie crossed her arms over her chest. “Not an invalid? Have you forgotten? You thought the laundry room was the bathroom this morning.”
Clay’s flinty glare darkened. “I was sleepwalking.”
“You were not. You were stoned out of your mind on painkillers.”
“And yet you blame me for not knowing where I was?” he countered, his words slightly slurred.
“That’s just it. You’re still stoned out of your mind,” she said with a laugh.
Clay stood, wobbled. “Get out! Now! I don’t need you hovering over me like a fucking vulture.”
Now, that was harsh, calling his sister a vulture. I stepped between them. “Please, you two. Stop.”
“I can’t leave. Not when he’s like this,” Carrie pointed out. “He might burn down the house in his current state, smoking a cigarette in bed.”
“You’re fucking nuts!” Clay boomed, his face redder than my barn. “I don’t smoke.”
“You did a few hours ago,” she stated before turning to me. “And if you don’t believe me, check out the burn marks in his bed. Stupid bastard dropped a cigarette when he passed out and nearly burned down the whole place.”
What?
His face turned deeper scarlet. “Bullshit!”
“Clay, why would your sister lie?” I challenged softly. Evidently the painkillers were having some unexpected effects on him.
“I have no fucking idea.” He glared at her. “Why would you lie? Are you still mad that Pops left me the ranch instead of you? Is that what this is all about?”
“What would I have wanted with that dump?” she snapped back. “I told him to leave it to you. I didn’t want the fucking shackle around my ankle. You know that. You know I was planning on leaving this godforsaken shithole.”
This was a lot of family dirty laundry being aired. Suddenly I felt like leaving, so the siblings could hash things out in private. I cleared my throat and stood, but as I walked past the couch, Clay’s hand shot out and clamped around mine.
“No, you stay. Carrie’s leaving. Now. So she can go back to her glamorous fucking life. I won’t be a burden anymore,” he growled at her.
She waved her arm. “Whatever. You’re such an asshole.” Looking at me with an expression of absolute frustration, she rolled her eyes. “Good luck. Those drugs turn him into an absolute bastard.”
Sure looked that way.
And lucky me, it seemed I’d just been volunteered to be his nurse-fucking-maid. Huh.
Well, if there was a bright side, I might get some answers to the questions zooming around my brain. There was that.
“Bye, Sis,” my patient yelled. “Great fucking family reunion!”
Chapter 6
Harper wasn’t heartbroken to learn I wasn’t coming home tonight. I had a feeling that was because of Mike.
And Will.
And Ben…
And the rest of the boys.
She was single. Available. And Mike and Will and Ben were all really, REALLY attractive men.
Who could blame her for having some fun, right?
So I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for abandoning her the first day she was in Wyoming. She was in
good hands.
And so was Clay.
His mood lifted the instant his sister left the room. Clearly there was a lot of stuff going on between the siblings--had been for a long time. With him being on painkillers, it probably wasn’t the best time to try to deal with it all.
In the interest of keeping the peace and eventually talking about my aunt’s will, I sat silent and listened to my patient rant. Luckily the bluster was as short lived as a summer storm. Heavy one minute and gone the next.
And then a second storm struck, a very different kind.
A young child with wild hair the color of Clay’s and enormous blue eyes came roaring into the room, arms flailing. She launched herself into the air and landed on Clay’s lap. If the impact of her landing hurt him, it didn’t show. I winced but he didn’t.
She wrapped her chubby little limbs around him and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I love Licorice, Uncle Clay! I love him so much!”
Clay’s expression did a complete one-eighty. He looked thoroughly happy, his smile one hundred percent genuine. His eyes turned soft. He gathered the little girl into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “Good. Now, remember. It’s your responsibility to take care of him. Every day,” he told her in a gentle voice.
“I won’t forget! I promise!”
“Food. Water. Exercise. Training. It’s a lot of responsibility.”
The little girl nodded, out-of-control waves bouncing. “I know.” She hopped off his lap. “I already gave him food and water. Now Mama’s gonna show me how to brush him.”
His smile broadened. “Very good. Go, brush your pony.”
“I love you, Uncle Clay!” his niece yelled as she dashed from the room.
With that sweet, charming smile still in place, he watched the little girl run off to brush the pony he bought her.
“She’s adorable,” I said, which was no lie. She looked other-worldly, like a sprite or fairy. “How old is she?”
“She just turned three. And she is the best thing in my life.” Clay smiled, stretched. “Carrie and I don’t agree on much, but I give her credit for one thing. That kid is…” His eyes sparkled. “She’s special. And I’m spoiling her rotten.” He sighed. “Wishing you hadn’t come over yet?”
“Of course not.” I couldn’t help grinning. It was eye-opening, seeing Clay like this—stoned out of his mind but totally honest and open. It seemed the drugs were stripping his defenses, letting me see a different side of him. “Why would you say that?”
He laughed, his eyes getting all twinkly.
Oh damn. Not the twinkles.
A warm, squishy feeling whooshed through me.
It was easy to forget what a bastard Clay could be when I was seeing him like this, fawning over his precious little niece. Watching him with that little girl, and knowing about the child he’d claimed as his own, even though he wasn’t, it was easy to see Clay desperately wanted to be a father.
And a wonderful father he would be, too. If he could have children someday.
But how would he treat his wife? Would he be callous, abrupt, defensive as he tended to be toward me? Or would he shower her with love, like he did the children? What if he were this Clay, the kind and generous Clay? The Clay that made his wife’s every wish come true?
Wouldn’t it be easy to fall in love with him, then. Super easy. Like, almost impossible not to fall madly in love with him.
This kind of thinking is going to get you into trouble!
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his expression fading slightly as if he could read my thoughts.
“Nothing’s wrong.” I squirmed a little and stared down at the floor. Nice floors, he had. It was tile but looked like aged wood. “I’m just a little…”
“Bored?” he offered. He was wrong. Bored, I was not. Far from it. But I wasn’t going to correct him. “I know you promised Carrie you’d stay, but you don’t have to. I’m fine. She lied about the smoking. I don’t have any cigarettes. The pain’s under control. I can take care of myself. I meant it when I said I don’t need anyone hovering over me.” He grabbed a medication bottle, sitting on the table next to him, shook out a couple of tablets, dumped them into his mouth, and swallowed.
Yeah, sure. The pain was completely under control. That was why he was eating those tablets like freaking candy. “I have no intention of hovering over anyone.” I lifted my gaze, my eyes finding his again. Oh damn. Another wave of warmth washed through me.
“I don’t need a nurse.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Though maybe it would be fun to get a sponge bath…”
A massive blast of heat ripped through me as the image of his beautiful, naked body, stretched out on the bed, all for me, raced through my mind. “I see you’re well enough to be a prick.” I stood and gave him a faux angry glare, hoping the furious act would hide the real reason for my flaming blush. I was totally melting inside. Not only because I was now imagining running my soapy hands over his warm, satiny skin, but also because of how sweet and adorable he’d been with his little niece. I liked Clay Walker. I genuinely liked him. At least, I liked the side that was generous and kind and patient. And I didn’t want to like him. “Maybe you don’t need my help after all.”
“Easy, kitten. I don’t want you running out of here yet.” He grabbed my hand again and pulled. It amazed me, how strong he was, despite the injury and medications. “Don’t sit way over there. I have to shout. It’s tiring. Have some mercy.”
Keeping with my angry act, I slitted my eyes. “I’ll sit on the couch if you promise you’ll behave.”
“Of course I’ll behave.” Smiling like the wolf that was about to scarf down Red Riding Hood, he patted the couch. Right, sure, he was going to behave. “Let’s talk. I’m fucking bored. I can’t remember the last time I’ve sat on my ass all day.”
That, I could understand. This was a man who worked every day. Worked hard--even though he was swimming in money. Sitting around doing nothing wasn’t even part of his vocabulary.
I eased down on the couch, making sure there was a decent amount of space between his body and mine.
He laughed. “I promise I won’t rape you. You look terrified.”
I wasn’t terrified of him. I was terrified of myself. Because seeing him like this, while having doubts about his bastard-ness meant my heart was softening toward him. Softening fast. Like, freaking butter sitting in the blazing sun.
That was dangerous. Very dangerous.
To placate him, I scooted a little closer. But I stared straight ahead, rather than at him. He was so gorgeous, with his slanted cheekbones and dark, wavy hair and perfect mouth. I didn’t want those tingles coming back. It was probably a losing battle, but it was one I didn’t want to totally give up. Yet.
“That’s a little better,” he said.
“So what do you want to talk about?” I asked the window as I tried to cool my sizzling blood and calm my jangling nerves.
“Nothing in particular. Maybe you have something you’d like to bring up?”
Ah ha! So he knew I’d come here with my head swimming with questions. And he was willing to answer them.
It was time to clear things up and find out exactly what was going on. From the look of it, the drugs were acting like a truth serum. Just what I needed.
But where should I start?
My gaze swept the room, roving from one expensive-looking piece of furniture to another. Above the fireplace hung a massive and beautiful framed portrait of some guy wearing old-fashioned clothes. The tiled floors were covered in the softest rugs I’d ever stepped foot on. And the house itself was just as impressive.
“This house is nothing like the old house,” I said. It was a lame start, but it was a start.
“That’s because the old place was a shithole. It was falling down.” He stretched then conveniently rested one arm on the back of the couch—behind me. A buzz of electricity zapped through me.
“I remember. But it had some charm,” I said to his knee.
�
�And I’ve kept some of it and put it in this place.” He pointed to the fireplace. “The mantle came from the old house.” He tapped my shoulder. “Do you dislike this house that much?”
I glanced at him. Mistake. Another zap zigzagged through my body. “No. Not at all. It’s…grand.”
“But?”
“Well.” I swallowed. I needed to stay focused. I was here to get some answers, to find out whether he was trying to steal my inheritance or help me. I was not here to lust over his picture perfect biceps. Or kiss his totally kissable lips…Stop it! I cleared my throat, wishing I could clear my head as easily. “It must have been expensive to build.”
“So you want to know how I managed to pay for it.” He chuckled. “No beating around the bush? I’m impressed.”
“I’m not the skittish little girl you knew four years ago.” To prove my point I looked him straight in the eyes.
His gaze scanned my body, the male appreciation glimmering in his eyes, making me warm. “That, I’m painfully aware of.”
His confession left me tongue-tied for a moment. I sucked in a gulp of air, replenishing the oxygen in my brain. “So, yes. How did you pay for it? What’s this Pronghorn Holdings company?”
“It started right after I graduated.” He slid down slightly, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “Several of my buddies from school inherited ranches after their parents retired and moved south to warmer climates. They didn’t want them, so I bought them, negotiating land contracts because I didn’t have the cash to pay in full. It wasn’t easy the first year but after that, things started to turn around” He nodded. “I don’t like to brag, not about business.” He gave me another of those hungry wolf grins. “Other things...well, sure. But not money. I did some things right. And I had a little luck on my side too. Your aunt noticed what I was doing and asked me to come on board, to help you once she was gone. She told me you were going to need it. So I accepted.”
That was exactly as Harper thought. He hadn’t taken the job to try to undermine me and steal my inheritance.