Red Porsche?
Grace’s heart skittered from first to third in two seconds. Silly, since she’d guessed the speed demon was in town for the wedding.
“I still don’t see him.” The shorter blonde wearing emerald green—Grace thought her name might be Chloe—pushed up on tiptoes. “Where?”
“Tall, longish dark hair? He’s gorgeous.” The blonde in blue adjusted her neckline, tugging at it until her cleavage was just so. “I wonder who he is.”
“I bet he’s Hilda’s son,” Katy said. “Ben, I think.”
“Hilda?”
“You know...the McAllisters’ housekeeper. Rachel said he was driving from California.” Katy slid an arch look at the woman still fussing with her dress. “By the way, Liz, I saw him first, so don’t even think about it.”
It took a moment for Grace to realize she’d joined the pack and was actually waiting for a glimpse of Ben Wolf. If he spotted her, she wondered how he’d react. She knew he hadn’t expected her to ticket him. A hot guy like that probably got away with murder.
Admittedly, her intention had been to give him a warning. Stopping him had almost made her late for the reception. But once Roy had seen them, she’d had little choice but to write the ticket. The last thing she needed was to come off as a pushover for a good-looking guy.
“California, huh?” Chloe settled back on her heels and drained her margarita. “I wonder what he does.”
“Stunt man,” Katy murmured. “He grew up here, though.”
Chloe let out a laugh. “How do you know all this?”
“I overheard Hilda and Rachel’s mom talking in the kitchen. Now that I think about it, Rachel mentioned him back in college.” Katy straightened. “There he is. Walking toward her and Matt near the stage. Navy blue shirt. About six foot two. You can get a closer look when his arm’s around my shoulder.”
Grace smothered a laugh. But Katy had a good eye for details. According to his driver’s license, Ben was thirty-three and six foot two and weighed two hundred pounds. The sexy hazel eyes Grace had seen for herself.
A pair of stocky cowboys wearing Stetsons blocked her view. She moved slowly to the left. But caught only the briefest glimpse of him. She shuffled over a couple feet. And bumped into someone.
“Excuse me,” she said, spinning around to see who she’d...
It was a tree. Jeez.
Chloe turned and smiled.
Grace smiled back and pretended she’d been on her phone. This took crazy to a new low. She was hanging around just to get another look at the guy. Even if she was interested, which she wasn’t, Ben Wolf wouldn’t give her the time of day unless he wanted something. Her instincts said this guy was trouble, and her cop gut was rarely wrong. Which meant she needed to keep her distance. She couldn’t afford a misstep.
She’d come to Blackfoot Falls for a fresh start. To get her career back on track. To escape the lingering suspicion that she’d been involved in the death of her partner. Wrong place, wrong time was basically how Internal Affairs had ruled the tragic incident. But not everyone had believed her story.
Sighing, she slipped her cell into her pocket. Her car key was in there, as well as some lip balm. She hated carrying a purse. T.J. used to tease her about her stuffed pockets.
Damn. She couldn’t think about her ex-partner right now. It would only depress her.
She needed to make the most of this opportunity at a fresh start and stop second-guessing herself. Stop worrying that moving here wasn’t the answer. She’d deal with Uncle Clarence later. Make him see his nepotism was narrowing her odds of being named interim sheriff, much less getting elected in November.
“I should go see if Rachel needs anything.” Katy looked over her shoulder, spotted a tray and set down her empty flute.
Liz snorted. “Good luck.”
Grace’s sweep of the crowd stopped dead when she got a perfect view of Ben. He looked like he’d walked off the cover of American Cowboy. The confidence practically oozed out of him. While he wasn’t the only man wearing jeans, he seemed the only one who’d be comfortable wearing a tux to a softball game. It wouldn’t matter. Women would flock to him either way.
Yep. Trouble. No two ways about it.
Katy was almost at her target. Just a few more steps—
“There you are, Gracie.” It was Clarence. Hurrying toward her.
Terrific.
She dug deep for a smile. Why hadn’t she stayed home? Oh, wait. She didn’t have a home anymore. Just a small room at The Boarding House inn.
2
BEN HAD EXPECTED a few changes in Blackfoot Falls. Like the new filling station near the restored inn where he was staying. A pawn shop had replaced a burger joint. There were probably more surprises...he’d only stopped in town to check in and grab a shower. But damn, he never thought the Sundance would change. The ranch seemed smaller than he remembered. Both barns needed new roofs. And the east barn needed a coat of paint.
Granted, fifteen years was a long while, but in a hick town like Blackfoot Falls, time and people were supposed to stand still.
As Ben drifted through the wedding crowd, he recognized a few faces, but was unable to put names to them. Several old-timers nodded as he passed. Most of the guests just stared. He wondered if they remembered him or thought he was simply another stranger.
Sure, he’d grown up here right alongside the McAllister boys, gone to the same school with Cole and Jesse, played the same sports, shared a love of horses with Trace. But Ben had never been one of them. How could he have been when half the town never let him forget he was the maid’s son. The other half just thought he was trouble.
He slipped off his sunglasses and stopped at a bar, or rather, a folding table set up with booze, a keg and glasses for people to help themselves. So typically Blackfoot Falls and so different from his Hollywood life of excess and decadence.
He poured himself a scotch, neat, thinking about how he’d been a mere kid when he’d left, barely eighteen. Not old enough to drink legally. Of course, a small thing like breaking the law had never stopped him. He tossed back the scotch, feeling the burn all the way down, then left the glass on the tray with the others to be washed. He needed food in his empty belly, not more alcohol.
His mother would be plying him with her homemade tortillas soon enough.
The thought surprised him. He wasn’t sure how he felt about seeing her. He had only started calling her in the past ten years because his sister had nagged the hell out of him. Claudia had never understood how he could stay angry, and he didn’t get how she’d so easily forgiven Hilda for tearing them away from their father.
The man was dead now. And Ben would never know him. All he had left of his dad were the vague memories of a six-year-old. That, and the bitterness over his mother’s betrayal. It still lingered like a hot stone at the edge of a fire. At thirty-three, he was just better at hiding it.
Damn, he wished Claudia was here. She’d always acted as a buffer between him and Hilda. But she was pregnant and couldn’t make the trip, so she’d begged and pleaded for him to come.
He’d finally given in last week, not just for Claudia’s sake, but for Rachel’s, too, and he didn’t want to mess things up as a wedding memento. Where was the little firecracker, anyway? He scanned the crowd. How hard was it to find a redheaded bride?
“Oh, my God, Ben, you made it!” Her voice came from behind him.
He turned to find Rachel’s green eyes filling with tears. The last time he’d seen her, she’d just celebrated her twelfth birthday. She’d grown into a beautiful young woman.
She dabbed at her eyes, then picked up her dress and launched herself at him.
He caught her and stumbled back. “Jesus. How many tons of lace are you wearing?” She laughed and hugged him until he set her at arm’s length. �
�Man, you’ve grown up.”
“Hey, watch it. She’s taken.”
“Matt Gunderson.” Ben smiled at her new husband and shook his hand. “Good to see you.”
“Yeah, it’s been a while.” Matt yanked his tie loose with a relieved sigh.
Rachel smacked his wrist. “Stop it. We haven’t finished taking pictures.”
“Oh, yes, we have.”
“Please.” Rachel leaned into Matt. “When will I ever get you in a tux again?”
“Never.”
“Exactly.”
Matt slumped in defeat. “So this is married life, huh?” he muttered while letting Rachel redo his tie. “Stay single, Ben. Do yourself a favor and just stay single.”
“Way ahead of you on that one, bro.” Ben grinned at Rachel’s eye roll.
He liked women. He liked sex even more. Fortunately, he rarely went without. But give a woman that much power over him? Wouldn’t happen.
“Have you seen your mom yet?” Rachel asked.
Ben shook his head and looked at Matt. Time to change the subject. “I read somewhere you’re going to quit rodeoing.”
“I’m done. I rode in Vegas for the last time.”
“Why? You were earning big.” Ben glanced at Rachel. Would she miss the big prize money, or had she put the screws to him?
Matt shrugged. “I had enough.”
“Matt’s father died last year and left him the ranch,” Rachel said. “So he’s running the Lone Wolf and raising rodeo stock.”
“We’re running the Lone Wolf,” Matt corrected her, slipping an arm around her.
“Not really. I’m not much help yet. The Sundance guests keep me hopping.”
Ben frowned. “Guests?”
“Cole didn’t mention it when he saw you in LA,” Rachel said with a wry smile. “I’m not surprised. My poor brothers...” She sighed. “We’re now part dude ranch.”
Ben couldn’t have been more shocked. He thought again of the patched roofs and warped wood siding on the barn. The McAllisters had been proud, wealthy cattlemen going back several generations. “Since when?”
“About a year and a half now.” She shrugged. “Between the poor economy and drought, all the ranches around here have been suffering. We needed to generate income.”
“A dude ranch,” Ben murmured. No, he didn’t figure Cole would’ve volunteered that information.
“It was Rachel’s idea,” Matt said, his tone defensive. “If not for her, they would’ve had to lay off half the men. Not to mention she had to put her career on hold.”
“It’s okay, Matt,” Rachel said softly. “Ben didn’t mean anything. You were just as shocked when you found out, remember?”
“Hey.” Ben spread his hands. “I’m surprised, that’s all. I’m in the process of buying a ranch myself, out in California. But now you’ve got me nervous.”
Rachel and Matt both frowned. “What, and give up working in Hollywood?” Matt asked. “Dating hot women and walking the red carpet?”
Ben laughed. “Don’t believe everything you read on the internet.”
Matt inclined his head at Rachel. “It’s not my fault. She looks up everybody.”
“I do not.” She lifted her chin, sending Ben back fifteen years. She’d always been an independent kid. “So you’re buying a ranch and giving up stunt work?”
“Eventually. But I’d still be in the business, so to speak. I plan to raise stock that I can supply to films and TV shoots. I’d train the animals, horses in particular, and work with them on the sets. Even commercial ads pay well. In Hollywood, it’s all about who you know, and I’m lucky in that department.”
“Snag a Super Bowl Ad. That’s got to be—” Rachel’s gaze shifted to something behind him. “You’re about to meet my friend Katy.”
“What took her so long?” Matt murmured, then responded to Rachel’s stink eye with an innocent look. “What?”
“Be nice,” Rachel muttered under her breath and then said to Ben, “I want to hear more later. Hey, Katy.”
Ben smiled at the tall, striking brunette who’d joined them, her strapless red dress held up by generous breasts.
“Katy,” Rachel said, “this is Ben. I’ve told you about him. Ben’s like another brother to me.”
“Yes, I remember.” Katy leaned forward to shake his hand, her breasts plumping over the top of the dress, her smile sultry. “I believe you mentioned he wasn’t as bad as Trace.”
“Thanks.” Rachel laughed. “Thanks for that.” She looked at Ben. “I meant when I was a kid. You both teased me unmercifully and don’t deny it.”
Ben forced a smile. His memories weren’t quite that benign. “Where is Trace, anyway?” He looked past Katy to do a quick sweep of the crowd, but stopped at a familiar face. Whoa.
Deputy Hendrix had let her hair down in loose waves that skimmed her shoulders. The sunglasses were gone, and she’d traded her uniform for tan slacks and a tailored white blouse that showed off her fit, toned body.
Nice. Very nice.
He wondered if she had her ticket book with her. Maybe after a little champagne, she’d have second thoughts about the one she had written him.
Rachel glanced around, frowning. “I don’t see Jesse or Cole, either. They know the photographer wants to take more shots of the wedding party.”
“We could go look for them,” Katy said, and Ben knew the “we” included him.
He wasn’t in the mood for company. Maybe later. “I’ll be heading to the house soon,” he said. “If I see the guys, I’ll send them over. Or drag them out of their rooms if I have to.”
“Perfect.” Rachel’s smile lasted only a second. “Wait. Knock before you go in. Girlfriends may be involved. Or in Cole’s case, his wife.”
“Cole’s married?” He’d never said anything about taking the plunge.
“He and Jamie eloped a month ago to avoid having a big hoopla.” She lowered her voice. “Not common knowledge. Just the family knows.” She gestured inclusively to Ben. “And now you, too, Katy. But don’t say anything.”
A group approached to congratulate the newlyweds, and Ben used the opportunity to slip away. He could feel Katy’s eyes on his back. He might have played that better, but he’d lost sight of the deputy.
While he searched for her, Ben realized how easy it had been with Rachel and Matt. It felt good that she still considered him family. And so did Cole. As long as Ben did nothing to hurt Hilda. The McAllisters had always been fiercely protective of his mother. Starting with Gavin and Barbara.
Thinking of Gavin McAllister tightened Ben’s chest. Missing the man’s funeral would haunt him for life. Gavin had treated him like a son right alongside his own boys, never taking sides when they squabbled and disciplining without bias.
Time had a way of lending perspective. Ben understood now that he’d been damn lucky to have Mr. McAllister as a role model.
He looked toward the house, hoping he’d finally catch sight of the deputy, but she wasn’t among the people crowding the wide porch. People sat on rockers. Some lounged against the railing. A short, dark-haired woman wound her way through them carrying a large pitcher. He studied her for a moment, taking in the frail stoop of her narrow shoulders. Realization hit him square in the gut.
Mom?
She set down the pitcher and glanced up suddenly, as if she could feel him watching her. He turned, hoping she wouldn’t see him.
Something twisted painfully inside his chest, and he had the sudden urge to make a run for the Porsche, drive so fast and far that he’d forget all about the Sundance. Forget about the family who’d given him a home. Forget about the mother who’d never trusted him enough to tell him the truth about his own father.
Hell of a time to figure out he wasn’t ready to see her. Certainl
y not in front of all these people.
Shoving a hand through his hair, he stared at the distant Rockies and the crimson sun sinking behind them. He was struck by the sudden notion that he’d missed more than the mountains. He’d missed the McAllister family. The Sundance. And in spite of her betrayal, his mom.
He hadn’t expected this, wasn’t prepared to do anything but push the feelings aside. Clear his head.
What he needed was another drink. He’d promised his sister he’d do this thing. Reconnect with their mom. Make some peace. Which felt impossible at the moment.
He found another makeshift bar and was about to pour a scotch when he saw her.
Deputy Hendrix. From the strained curve of her mouth to her stick-straight posture, she seemed uncomfortable. Probably trying to get rid of the old guy in the loud sports jacket who was bending her ear. Ben could help her with that. He smiled, practically seeing her void his ticket.
Before he could approach them, the man walked away. She turned a longing glance toward a row of parked cars, looking as though she wanted to be here as much as Ben did.
Keeping an eye on her, he exchanged the whiskey for a bottle of champagne sitting in an ice bucket and filled two flutes.
* * *
GRACE WAS BEGINNING to wish she’d brought her gun. If her uncle didn’t stop annoying her, she was pretty sure she could make a case for justifiable homicide. Although since she didn’t have a squeaky-clean record, maybe she’d be better off hiding the body. Plenty of good places around here.
Grace swallowed. Dear God. How could she joke about this? Even if only to herself. She was a horrible person. And now she’d lost track of Clarence. He’d disappeared into the crowd. But he’d pop up again and motion for her to meet yet another person who simply wanted to enjoy the party and not be bullied by the mayor.
Maybe she should make a run for her car. Now. While she had the chance. She hated that Rachel might see her, but Grace could always apologize later and pretend she’d been ill.
Anywhere with You Page 2