Texas Orchids (The Devil's Horn Ranch Series)

by Samantha Christy

  “Quick thinking about the screaming and stuff.”

  “I thought it was a nice touch.”

  “Can we go in now? I need to make sure she’s okay after that creep kissed her.”

  She takes one more look around. “I think we’re good. You really care about her, don’t you?”

  “I haven’t known her very long, but yes, I do.”

  “Good, because she may need a real man to help her get over the douchebag.”

  “Now where have I heard that before?”

  I get out hastily and almost run to get to Andie.

  Chapter Ten

  Andie

  Driving down the road, I think of how many excuses I’ve made not to see Victor this week. Animal emergencies, girlfriend problems, packing. Katherine made me agree to a game night at his place. I did so reluctantly. She keeps reminding me we have a job to do. I keep wanting to ask her when I can expect my paycheck. But every time I think of blowing the whistle, I recall the picture of the little girl she showed me. Her family deserves answers. If anything ever happened to me, I would want Granddad to have that closure.

  I slow my truck when I see Maddox along the side of the road on the outskirts of Devil’s Horn Ranch. Looks like he’s doing fence work today, and he’s shirtless. Oh my. My insides tingle.

  I pull over so I don’t drive into a ditch, gawking at him. I wave, and he smiles.

  “Out here alone, eh?” I say from inside the truck. “You must be getting the hang of things.”

  “Miguel went back to get more supplies.”

  “You look very capable, if you ask me.”

  “Thanks,” he says and kicks a broken post. “But this one is being stubborn.”

  “Need help?” I’m five-foot-five. He towers over me and is pure muscle. I can tell he’s trying not to laugh. “What? I work out.”

  He puts a chain around the old fence post and anchors it to the back of his four-wheeler. He climbs on, starts it up, and tries to pull the post out of the ground. The front wheels come up, and I see a disaster waiting to happen.

  “Maddox, you aren’t heavy enough!” I yell.

  “It’s fine.”

  “It’s going to—” I watch in horror as the ATV up-ends and falls back on Maddox after he’s thrown to the ground. I jump out of the pickup and run over. “Are you okay?” When he laughs, I feel relief, then help him get out from under it.

  “Not exactly the way to impress the ladies.”

  He’s trying to impress me?

  He stands and brushes himself off. His sweaty torso is covered with dirt. I resist the urge to help clean him off. He turns to try and right the four-wheeler, and blood trickles down his back. “Maddox, you’re injured.”

  “Where?”

  He reaches around to investigate, but I stop him. “Don’t touch it. It’s dirty enough already. Sit on that rock and wait here.”

  He continues to work on the ATV.

  “Sit. Doctor’s orders.”

  He looks up, amused. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “What have I told you about calling me ma’am?” I get my first-aid kit and a bottle of water from the pickup. I pour water on the wound. “Looks like you might need a few stitches.”

  “It barely even hurts.” I dab it with gauze, and he flinches. “Okay, that hurts.”

  “I’m serious, Maddox. You should get this looked at.”

  “I’m a little busy.”

  “It’ll get infected.”

  “You’re a doctor. Can’t you do something about it with all the vet things you carry?”

  “I fix animals, not humans.”

  “Surely you can deal with a little cut.” He looks at the first-aid kit. “This isn’t for animals, is it? You must have something in here you can use.”

  I look through it. It’s well stocked, though I’ve never had to use it. “I do have some skin glue.” I go back to the truck for antiseptic and iodine. I hold them up. “This could hurt, but it might do the trick.”

  “Do it.”

  I pour more water on the wound, dab it dry, clean it with antiseptic, roll a swab of iodine on it, then apply the skin glue. After it dries, I bandage him up, impressed he didn’t complain about any of it. Maybe he’s still trying to impress me.

  “It may rip open if you move the wrong way. You might want to tackle something easier than this fence today.”

  “Not a chance. I can’t have Miguel and the guys thinking I’m a pus— uh, wimp. If I rip it open, I’ll go into town later and get it stitched up.”

  I put my things back in the truck. I turn, and he’s standing right behind me. I can’t help but stare at his chest like a smitten schoolgirl. In my defense, it is a very nice chest.

  “You okay?” he asks. “You were a little shaken up the other night.”

  “I’ll be fine. Did Katherine tell you about game night? Friday. You, me, Melina and Victor. At his place.”

  He pulls his phone from his back pocket and waves it at me. “You do know how to use one of these, right? If I recall, I programmed in my contact information the day the FBI showed up.”

  “I didn’t think you’d want to be bothered with the details. You have a lot on your plate, what with fence mending and all.”

  “Please, Andie, bother me with details. Day or night. I mean it. Plus, I get tired of talking to Owen, Miguel, and the guys all day. It’d be nice to have a friend who looks a lot better in a cowboy hat than that mangy lot.”

  I feel heat in my cheeks. “Fine. I’ll call.” I open the door to get in my truck. “Put your shirt back on. It’ll help keep dirt off your bandage. Get it checked out if you see more blood.”

  “What if I don’t see any? I still need to put on a fresh bandage after I shower, right? I can hardly change the bandage myself. Maybe you should come by tonight and do it.”

  “When will you be done?”

  “By dinner. How about you come by after you’ve eaten? Heck, come for dinner. I’m not much of a cook, but I can boil pasta.”

  “Supper.”

  He cocks his head. “Huh?”

  “We call it supper around here. Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

  “You wouldn’t be imposing. I’m tired of eating alone. We can go over the details of game night.”

  “Okay then. Seven o’clock?”

  “Perfect.”

  I start the engine.

  He runs up to the door before I take off. “Park inside the hay barn. We wouldn’t want Victor nosing around and seeing your truck on the ranch before you move in. Even though you work here, it would be hard to explain why you’re in the house and not the stables.”

  I raise a brow. “Already thinking like an FBI agent.”

  “I’m only thinking about your safety. Just be careful not to run over Patch’s new litter of kittens in the barn.”

  “Patch?” I say, amused. “You’re naming the barn cats?”

  “Maybe you’re not the only one with a soft spot for animals.”

  I eye him in the rearview mirror as he watches me pull away. A horn blasts, and I swerve back into my lane. My heart beats wildly, but is it because of the near miss or something else?

  The big doors to the hay barn are open, and I drive in, get the bottle of wine off the passenger seat, and exit the truck. Matteo is walking from one stable to another and stops to help me close the doors. “It’s about time you kids got together,” he says, noticing the wine.

  I flush. “It’s not like that. I’m, um, with Victor. This is just a thank you for Maddox letting me crash in the guesthouse for a while.”

  The weathered lines around his eyes stand out prominently when he smiles. “Sure it is.”

  Does he know? Has Maddox told him about the FBI? Katherine warned us not to say anything, and I haven’t told anyone. Not even Tara and Christina.

  There’s a jeep off to the side of the house. Did Maddox buy a car? I knock. Someone comes to the door but it’s not Maddox. It’s Katherine. I try not to show my disappointme
nt; he did say we were going over the details of game night. I was obviously reading way too much into this.

  She looks amused. “It’s a good thing you were a better actress when we went out the other night.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She gestures to my hands. “The wine. The look on your face.” She steps closer. “Don’t worry, I’ll be out of here before dinner.”

  “You mean supper.” Maddox appears around the corner, and I wonder how much he heard. “Hey, Doc. Come on in.” He reaches around Katherine and opens the screen door for me.

  I hand him the wine. “I hope red is okay.”

  “Red is great. Can I get you both a glass?”

  “None for me,” Katherine says. “I’m on the clock.”

  “But you drank the other night,” I say.

  “A few sips maybe. When nobody was looking, I poured it out to make it look like I was.”

  “Is there a handbook we can read?” Maddox says. “Covert Operations 101 or something?”

  “This isn’t funny, you know.”

  He huffs through his nose and then glances at me. “Oh, believe me, I know.”

  He pours himself and me a glass, then we sit and listen to Katherine tell us how Friday night is going to go. She has us repeat back the details before she leaves. I’m relieved she doesn’t want me to do any of the snooping—just the distracting—but it’s how she wants me to do the distracting that bothers me. Judging by the look on Maddox’s face, it bothers him, too.

  He walks her out and then joins me in the living room, where I’m holding a picture of Vivian on her favorite horse. He stands next to me. “I still can’t believe she’s gone.”

  “Her old cowboy hat is still on the peg by the back door. How long are you going to keep it there?”

  “I’m not touching it. It’s Nana’s hat on Nana’s peg in Nana’s house. It would feel wrong to remove it.”

  “Any word from your folks about interested buyers?”

  “There’s a lot of interest, but we can’t move on anything for a while. Probate.”

  “Karen Thompson came to see me at the Diamond Duce Ranch the other day. She asked about things.”

  “She broke up my parents back in college,” he tells me. “I didn’t meet my dad until I was seven because of her.”

  “Why does that not surprise me?”

  “Did you know she tried to push off her illegitimate kid as my dad’s?”

  “Quinn? I feel sorry for him. He’s just trying to find his own way. Must be more like his father, whoever that is. As far as I can tell, he’s not happy being a Thompson.”

  “Then why not leave?”

  “He’s seventeen and still in high school. Besides, I’m not sure they would let him leave. They probably want him to go into the family business.”

  “You make them sound like the mafia.”

  “I told you before they might be.”

  He laughs. “The Cowboy Mafia. Kind of has a ring to it.” A timer goes off in the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready—I mean supper.” He pulls a casserole out of the oven.

  “I thought you said you could only boil pasta.”

  “I did. Look closely. It’s a spaghetti bake. I may have overdone the cheese a bit.”

  I inhale. “It smells delicious, and crispy cheese is the best kind.”

  “It’s better than sandwiches anyway.”

  “Is that what you’ve been eating? Sandwiches?”

  “They’re simple and quick.” He scowls at the sauce-spattered counter. “And easy to clean up.”

  “I love to cook. When I move into the guesthouse, I’ll be happy to cook for you. It’s the least I can do.”

  He refills my glass. “I’ll have to check the FBI handbook to see how you can covertly get it to me.”

  “We should install one of those things they have at bank drive-throughs. I can stick it in a tube and press a button, and it comes to your house.”

  We laugh through our meal, coming up with silly ways to share supper between the houses.

  After we finish, he starts to clear the dishes, but I shove him out of the way. “Sit. You cooked. I’ll clean.” I don’t miss how he watches as I wash the dishes. Suddenly I’m aware of my every move. Does the way I’m standing make my pants look baggy? Is the back of my hair matted from the hat I had on earlier?

  “How do you know where everything goes?” he asks. “I live here, and it took me ten minutes to find a baking pan.”

  “Vivian had my granddad and me over for supper a lot, especially after he moved into the retirement home. I think she felt bad that he wasn’t eating gourmet meals there. And wow, could she cook. Taught me everything I know.”

  “They were a thing, huh? It must have been awful for him to have been here when she fell.”

  “He still feels guilty about it. I think he might have loved her. They always insisted whatever they were doing was casual, but I’m not so sure. He hasn’t been the same since she died.” I put away the last dish. “Let’s check out your injury. I forgot my first-aid kit in the truck, so I’ll have to use yours.”

  “I have a first-aid kit?”

  I open the cabinet under the sink and take it out. “I insisted Vivian have one. Even packed it myself. Now sit and take off your shirt.”

  His eyebrows shoot up. “Are you always this demanding?”

  I’m sure I turn crimson. “Shut up and do it.”

  He laughs.

  I lay out my supplies, pull up a chair behind him, and remove the old, soiled bandage that got wet when he showered. The adhesive must catch a few tiny hairs because he flinches. “Sorry.” I’m close enough to smell his body wash. He smells like rain. I palpate the area around the wound. He turns his head and looks at me from the corner of his eye. “I’m checking for swelling. Looks good. I’ll clean it and put on a dry bandage. I’m glad to see you didn’t open it back up again.”

  I can’t look away as he puts on his shirt. His back muscles bunch when he lifts his arms. He catches me staring and moves toward me. “Thank you,” he says, so close he has to look down at me.

  My breathing quickens. My heart races. He’s going to lean in and kiss me, and I’m not sure I have ever wanted anything more.

  Instead, he wipes my cheek. “You had a spec of red sauce there.”

  I put my hand on the spot and rub it. “Oh… thanks. I should… I should go. Thank you for supper.”

  “Anytime.”

  I walk through the door and down the porch stairs.

  “Andie,” he says behind me.

  Is he coming after me? Does he regret not kissing me?

  I turn and he hands me my purse. “You forgot this.”

  “Right. Thanks.” I take it and head for the barn.

  “See you Friday, Doc.”

  I wave, not looking back. I’ve had enough embarrassment for one night. I climb into my truck and bang my head on the steering wheel.

  Chapter Eleven

  Maddox

  “Let her have a minute with him before we join them,” Katherine says from my truck after we park in front of a house a few doors down. “It might seem suspicious to arrive at the same time.”

  “I don’t want her alone with him.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen, Maddox. We’re right here. He knows we’re coming.”

  “He killed someone. You can’t tell me nothing’s going to happen. Hell, Andie even looks like the missing woman. How long do you think it will be before he decides to do it again?”

  “Hold on there. We’re not even sure he did anything.”

  “The guy disappeared shortly after the woman went missing. Of course he killed her.” I get out of the truck.

  She hops out and blocks me. “One more minute. Trust me.”

  I fidget, pissed as hell we’re allowing her to be in danger.

  “Calm down,” she says. “He’ll pick up on your body language.”

  “I wish I knew what he was saying to her.”

  “Would
it make you feel better if I outfitted her with a microphone next time?”

  “It would make me feel better if there wasn’t a next time. And, no, not if he can find it. I don’t want to risk her safety any more than we already are.”

  “He won’t find it. It’s amazing how far technology has come.”

  “If you’re sure, then yes. Do it.”

  “Take some deep breaths.” I do as she asks. “Who am I?”

  “Melina Scott.”

  “Let’s go then.” She gets a board game out of the backseat and hands me two bottles. One is wine, the other is whiskey.

  Andie looks relieved when we come through the door. She shoots me a “where have you been” look, and I try to apologize with my eyes. Katherine squeezes my hand, reminding me I should be looking at her, not Andie.

  Victor eyes one of the bottles. “Ah, you’re a whiskey drinker, too. Nice. How do you like yours?”

  I hold up a six-pack of Coke. “With this. You?”

  He laughs. “I don’t like to water mine down. Straight up for me.”

  “Point me to the glasses, and I’ll pour us some.”

  He points to the kitchen counter. I’m glad he’s letting me fix them. Mine will be a lot more Coke than whiskey, and I will give him a heavy pour. The drunker he gets, the better it is for us.

  “You ladies want wine?” Victor asks. “Andie brought a bottle too.”

  “I wish I could afford better,” she says.

  “It’s okay.” He puts an arm around her. “All that is about to change. Do you have a move-in date yet?”

  “Thursday.”

  His brow scrunches. “Babe, Thursday is my busiest day. Why would you do it then?”

  “It’s the only day this week I can manage it. I’m booked solid every other day, and I told my landlord I’d be out by the weekend.”

  She knows Thursdays are his busy days.

  “But who’s going to help you move?” His eyes momentarily flick my way, and I don’t like what I see behind them.

  “The guesthouse is furnished,” she says. “All I’ll really need are my clothes and personal items. I’ll put my stuff in storage until I pay off my loans and can find a new place.”