Branded as Trouble

by Delores Fossen

  Then again, strange and Vita went hand in hand.

  She should probably take it to her office to open, carefully, in case it contained some kind of charm that was disgusting or smelly.

  “Oh, that can’t be good,” Hilda mumbled, and for a moment Mila thought the woman was talking about the letter. She wasn’t. “There’s Dylan Granger. You think they’ll get in a fight right here on Main Street?”

  That sent Mila hurrying to the window. Not because she wanted to see a fight, but because Roman might be involved. But it wasn’t Roman talking to Dylan.

  It was Garrett.

  And yes, judging from their body language, there might indeed be a fight. Mila dropped the letters on the counter and hurried out to them. She was still several yards away when she could hear what they were saying.

  “Any reason Lucian didn’t come straight to me with this chicken-shit notion of a lawsuit?” Garrett asked.

  Even though Dylan had a much friendlier look on his face, that tightened his mouth a little. Maybe because he didn’t like having his brother insulted. “You’d have to ask Lucian about that.”

  “I would, but he’s not returning my calls.” Yes, Garrett was definitely pissed off. A rarity for him. That was usually Roman’s territory. Thank goodness he wasn’t there or Mila would have stood no chance of diffusing this.

  “You made it,” she said to Dylan, and she hoped it sounded as if this were a planned meeting.

  Dylan smiled. It was dazzling and perfect, but then he’d had a lot of practice over the years flashing it at every woman who caught his eye.

  Garrett wasn’t smiling, though, and judging from the glance he shot her, he knew all about this date.

  “I hate to interrupt,” she went on, speaking to Dylan, “but could we go for coffee now? Something’s come up in the shop, and I need to get back a little sooner than I’d originally planned.”

  Dylan looked at Garrett, probably considering if he should stand his ground and continue an argument that should be between Roman and Lucian, not him and Garrett. Mila fixed that. She hooked her arm through Dylan’s and got him moving.

  “Tell Sophie and Nicky I said hello,” she said to Garrett.

  She didn’t wait around for his reaction. Mila just led Dylan across the street to the bookstore. “If you don’t mind, we can have coffee in here,” she said. That way, she wouldn’t have to lock up. Or walk into the diner after people had just witnessed what’d happened.

  Of course, most wouldn’t know what had been said, but the gossips would embellish it. They’d embellish this, too. After all, she was taking a known womanizer into her store where they’d be alone. At least, they would be until Janeen showed up. Which hopefully wouldn’t be long. Too bad Hilda hadn’t stuck around.

  “You know you didn’t fool Garrett about switching the time of our coffee date,” Dylan remarked. “He knows you were running interference. Which he didn’t need by the way.”

  Probably not.

  “And for the record, there really wasn’t anything to break up,” Dylan added. “Garrett’s a reasonable man, not the sort to swing his fists.”

  Yes, normally he was reasonable, but the ranch was like his own child, and tensions were high right now what with Tate’s, Roman’s and Belle’s recent medical problems.

  She let go of his arm and motioned for him to follow her into her office. Such that it was. It was actually a converted storage closet, but at least she had a pot of fresh coffee and a desk. A desk that would be between Dylan and her.

  Mila got busy pouring two cups of coffee, but she’d barely gotten started when Dylan took her hand. He doled out another of those smiles that she was certain had coaxed plenty of women into his bed.

  “I’m not much of a coffee drinker,” he said. “And you’re not much of a dater. So, why don’t we just sit down and chat? You can tell me why you agreed to go out with me. Oh, and if it’s to poison me to stop a possible lawsuit, then let me down easy. I have a fragile ego.”

  She seriously doubted there was anything fragile about this cowboy. And he was a cowboy, all right. A charming one. He had the Granger looks. Granger money, too. But it was packaged in that lanky body with the great-fitting jeans. Mila might not have been the dating type, but she wasn’t blind.

  With a trace of that smile still on his mouth, Dylan took the chair across from her. She sat in the one behind the desk.

  “No poison attempt,” she assured him. “In fact, when I agreed to see you, I didn’t know anything about the potential lawsuit.”

  He looked at her with those sizzling eyes that managed to be both hot and cool at the same time. “So, this is about Roman.”

  She nearly got choked on her own breath. Good grief. Did everyone know she had a thing for Roman? Apparently so. She considered denying it. Considered trying to convince Dylan that he was wrong.

  But maybe he wasn’t.

  By her own admission this “date” was like a prequel, but now that she was face-to-face with Dylan, she knew there was no spark. And if she couldn’t have sparks with a guy like Dylan, then there was no sense lying to herself. This was indeed about Roman. Not to make him jealous or anything, but because she was simply trying to get over him. If that was even possible.

  Dylan shrugged. “I’m okay with that. Truth is, along with wanting to see you again, this is sort of a reconnaissance mission. I don’t want this lawsuit. Garrett and Sophie probably don’t, either. That leaves Roman.” He stopped, clearly waiting for her to pick up where he’d left off.

  “If you think I have some kind of insight into Roman’s mind, you’re mistaken. But if you have any control over this, please talk Lucian out of whatever he’s planning. Or at least get him to delay it. The timing couldn’t be worse.”

  Dylan sipped his coffee, looked at her from over the top of his cup. He winked at her. “I knew there was a reason I always liked you. You’re loyal. With a scary-as-shit mother, but loyal.” He paused. “I did hear about Roman’s boy. Is he okay?”

  She nodded. He was out of the woods for now, but there were no guarantees. Tate had a lot of issues to work out. So much anger.

  Like his father.

  Mila knew the reasons they both were like that. Tate because of Valerie, and Roman because of his parents.

  Roman had no idea that all those years ago she’d overheard him tell his mother about his father’s cheating, but she had been inside Sophie’s room with the window open. Sophie had been wearing headphones and listening to music, but Mila had heard enough of the conversation to understand that this had crushed Roman.

  Crushed boys became angry ones.

  And carried that anger with them when they became men.

  “So, you want to make this a real date or what?” Dylan asked. “Before you say no, I promise you that it’ll just be a date. No recon, and you won’t have to nip arguments in the bud between me and a cousin.” He smiled. “Other nipping, however, is optional.”

  Mila smiled, too. This was what it was like to have someone flirt with her. She liked it. But she shook her head. “If I say yes, then everyone will think I’m just trying to make Roman jealous. You might even think that. It wouldn’t be true because Roman would actually have to care for me that way to feel jealousy. Still, if I can get a rain check, maybe we can go out after he’s left town. That way, the gossip won’t include him. It’ll be just about us.”

  Not that she wanted an us, but Mila wasn’t going to close any more doors. Especially since she’d just opened them.

  Dylan nodded, took her hand and kissed it. “Absolutely. And you can make sure your mom doesn’t put a spell on me.” He tipped his head to the shop. “I noticed the letter from her on the counter. That wasn’t about me, was it?”

  He winked again. Obviously, he was joking, but it did get her thinking. Maybe it was about Dylan. After
all, her mom had said all that stuff about an ill wind. Vita might be trying to give her some kind of juju guidance.

  Suddenly, Mila couldn’t wait to read it so she was very glad when Dylan stood to leave. Of course, that wasn’t exactly a good step in her door-opening process. She could encourage him to stay so they could chat, break some ice, and maybe she would get the urge to do some “nipping” with him. But for now, she let him walk away, and Mila followed him to the door.

  Dylan turned as if he might kiss her goodbye, but he settled for skimming his index finger down her cheek. “That was the shortest, and best, date I’ve had in a while.”

  Mila figured the “best” part was an out-and-out lie, but she didn’t call him on it. She let him go, and since it was still fifteen minutes until opening, she locked the door and tore into the letter from her mom.

  It was handwritten, only two short paragraphs so it didn’t take Mila long to read it. It took a little longer, though, for her to get what her mother was saying in those handful of sentences.

  Oh, God.

  This couldn’t be right so Mila read it again. And again. By the fourth time, the tears came, and Mila sank to the floor with the letter clutched in her hand.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ROMAN WAS STALLING, and he wasn’t even going to pretend that he wasn’t. In part, he wanted to be in town near the school in case something went wrong and Tate called. The ranch was only a short drive away, but there was something comforting about being able to see the school building as he went from one errand to another.

  First, to the bookstore, then the diner for some coffee to go, then the grocery store to pick up some of Tate’s favorite snacks. All of that had left his incision aching a bit. That’s why he’d decided to sit in his truck and watch for the other reason he was stalling.

  Mila.

  More specifically, Mila and Dylan.

  Main Street really was the catbird seat, and Roman had caught the tail end of what appeared to be a conversation with Mila, Garrett and Dylan. Garrett had headed to his truck after that, and Mila had taken Dylan into the bookstore.

  Taken.

  As in she’d grabbed hold of Dylan’s arm and led him there.

  Apparently, this was a change of venue for their date. Too bad his catbird seat didn’t allow him to see in the bookstore windows or have eavesdropping equipment. Plain and simple, he didn’t trust Dylan, and if Sophie was right and Mila truly was ready to jump into bed with someone—anyone—then Dylan would almost certainly be glad to accommodate her.

  Why that riled Roman, he didn’t know, but he continued to watch. However, since he didn’t want anyone to think he was just watching, he called his office and put out some fires there. Rodeos went on all year, but the spring was an especially busy time. Roman could delegate some of the work, could do some from his laptop or phone, but there was no substitute for getting in a vendor’s face when there’d been a screw-up.

  That was one of the advantages to being a badass. Vendors listened when he got in their faces.

  The bookstore door opened, and he saw Dylan come out. Roman hadn’t timed it, but it seemed a tad short for a date. Even one where they were only supposed to have coffee. Maybe that meant Mila had called it off. Or Dylan could have done something to upset her.

  In case it was the latter, Roman decided to walk past the store so he could look in on her. He wouldn’t go in again. Considering he’d only been in her store one other time, it would look suspicious if he made two visits in one day.

  He got out of his truck, but before he even made it to the sidewalk, he saw Dr. Woodliff coming toward him. Since the doc was on his to-do list, Roman welcomed the chance meeting.

  “I saw you sitting out there, watching the bookstore,” the doctor greeted him. “Thought I’d come out and say hello.”

  So, not a chance meeting, after all. Roman frowned and would have to rethink his whole catbird seat theory. It was clearly too visible of a spot for spying.

  “How’s your incision?” he asked Roman.

  “Healing. How’s my son?” Roman hadn’t intended to be so blunt with that question, but Tate wasn’t giving him any hints about how the sessions had gone.

  “Healing,” the doctor repeated.

  Dr. Woodliff’s gaze drifted toward the school, and he got an aha look in his eyes. Roman didn’t figure the guy was a gossip, but now he might at least rethink Roman’s bookstore gawking. “I don’t think Tate will have any problems. The teachers are all good. Most of the kids, too.”

  Most. But not all. If Tate ran into one of those not-good kids, then he could get bullied. Hell. The bullying could get pretty ugly if word spread about his suicide attempt. Roman reconsidered checking on Mila. Maybe he should go park outside the school instead. Perhaps even take a stroll through the building. Of course, if Tate saw him, he’d be mortified.

  “Any luck reaching Tate’s mom for some family therapy sessions?” the doctor asked.

  Roman had to shake his head. “But I have two private investigators working on it. Chief McKinnon, too. They’ll find her.”

  Finding Valerie wasn’t the problem, though. It was whether or not she would come. And if she did, what she would say or do once she was here.

  The doctor gave him a pat on the arm, said he would see him at their next appointment and walked off. Leaving Roman with a decision to make. Risking Tate’s wrath by looking in on him or risking Mila’s wrath by looking in on her.

  Roman decided to do both.

  Badasses didn’t mind a little wrath every now and then.

  He started with Mila because she was closer and because she’d be opening the store soon. In fact, she was late doing that. It was already a quarter past ten, and she still had the closed sign in the window. That caused him to walk a little faster. Roman looked in the window, didn’t see her, so he tried the door.

  Locked.

  From the glass panels on the door, he had a perfect line of sight to her office. Not there, either. Maybe she was in the storage room. But then he looked down and spotted her.

  On the floor, crying.

  In that moment he wanted to track down Dylan and beat the crap out of him, and while he still might do that, Roman knocked on the door.

  “Let me in,” he insisted.

  Mila shook her head, turning her face from him, but it was too late. He’d already seen those tears and wanted to know what the hell Dylan had done to put them there.

  He kept knocking, and Mila must have realized he wasn’t going away because she finally reached up and unlocked it. She also turned away again, but Roman just closed the door and stepped in front of her.

  “What happened?” he snapped.

  She didn’t jump to answer that. “Do you remember my father?”

  In the grand scheme of things, Roman hadn’t expected that to be the topic of conversation. Probably because he was still in an ass-whipping mood and had a specific ass in mind to whip—Dylan’s.

  “I do remember him, some. I was about seven or so when he died. He used to buy me a Coke whenever he’d see me at the grocery store.” No one else had done that, probably because of the Grangers’ money. Everyone else figured that Roman could afford his own Cokes. And he could have, but it was a nice gesture. “And he’d tell corny jokes.”

  “Yes,” Mila agreed, her voice a whisper. “What do you call a sleepwalking nun?”

  Roman remembered that one because it was one her father liked to repeat. “A Roaming Catholic.” He nearly smiled at the memory, but because of her tears, this was not a smiling kind of situation.

  “I loved him,” Mila went on, “and when he didn’t come home that night, I thought I’d died, too. Nothing was the same after that. Nothing.”

  Crap. This was probably the anniversary of his death or maybe his birthday. Though it wasn
’t easy to do, Roman sat down on the floor next to her and pulled her into his arms.

  “I’m sorry. If you want, I can go with you to the cemetery,” he offered. “Or I can sit with you. Just let me know what to do.”

  She lifted her left hand then, and he saw the paper she was holding. Actually, she’d crushed it in her grip.

  “It’s from my mother,” she said, handing it to him.

  Roman still wasn’t piecing this together, but he soon did when he started reading the letter.

  Dear Mila,

  This is going to be a hard letter to read, so sit down. Take a drink if you have one nearby. When you’re done reading, just remember that I’m still your mother. I always will be, no matter how much you hate me for keeping this from you. I’m sorry for that.

  Well, that sure as hell wasn’t a good start, especially since Vita didn’t seem to be the type to dole out apologies.

  Frankie wasn’t your daddy. Yes, I know that’s hard to hear, but it’s the truth. I got pregnant with you and went to stay with my cousin in Houston so I could have family with me when you were born. That’s when I met Frankie. You were just a baby, and he loved you right from the start. We got married, and I came back to Wrangler’s Creek with both of you.

  “I’m not who I thought I was,” Mila said. “I’m not Mila Banchini.”

  “Yeah, you are. This doesn’t mean anything.” He hit the paper with the back of his hand. But it did mean something.

  Mila’s life had just turned on a dime.

  Something that Roman knew a little about.

  “Read the rest,” she insisted.

  Roman wasn’t sure he wanted to know what those last couple of sentences said, but he did it, anyway.

  Your daddy, the one who put you in me, is from here in Wrangler’s Creek. Please don’t ask me who he is because it would mess up his life if he was to know about you. That’s why I never told you, Mila. He has a good life here and wouldn’t want folks to know about his goings-on with me. Forgive me if you can.