Millionaire in a Stetson

by Barbara Dunlop

  “Are you afraid?”

  “Not really,” Niki answered honestly.

  He was right. The storm did seem to be moving on. And she had no desire to brave the rain again to get back inside the arena.

  Sawyer extracted his cell phone, trying a few numbers, but failing to connect.

  Then he handed it to Niki. “You seem to have better luck than me.”

  She dialed Katrina, but didn’t get through. She wasn’t even getting a dial tone anymore.

  She handed back the phone. “What now?”

  He took it. “We can walk back or wait here. Up to you.”

  She squinted out at the storm. “I don’t have any desire to go back out there.”

  “Then we wait. The chaos will calm down eventually. The phone lines will free up, and we can call a cab, or get through to Dylan or Katrina.” He reached behind them to the jump seat in the back, rattling something out of a plastic bag.

  “Horse blanket,” he told her, bringing it forward. “But it’s brand-new and pure wool.”

  As he unwrapped it from the packaging, he urged her to move closer. She scooted to the middle of the bench seat.

  The plaid blanket was oddly shaped and slightly scratchy to her skin. But it was big enough to share, and the minute it was over them, she started to warm up.

  “Nice.” She sighed.

  “Nice,” he agreed. He stretched his arm across the back of the seat, and she had to resist the comfortable-looking spot he’d inadvertently created.

  “I guess this wasn’t how you expected the evening to end,” he ventured.

  “It wasn’t even in the top ten.”

  “Tell me more about Boston.”

  Niki went on alert. She’d been to Boston a few times in her life, but she wasn’t prepared for an in-depth discussion of the city. “Why?”

  “I find your childhood interesting,” Sawyer answered easily. “I’d like to hear more.”

  “Tell me about yours,” Niki countered. “What was life like in Montana?”

  “Fair enough,” he agreed. “Well, let me see. You haven’t met Dylan yet, but you will. He’s the ranch manager at my place. We were good friends growing up on the ranch in Montana. We were a little wild, a little out of control.”

  “A bad boy?” Niki found herself asking, at the same time trying to convince herself that she didn’t find it sexy.

  “I guess you could call it that. Most Saturday nights, we commandeered both liquor and transportation from the ranch. Picked up girls. Got into fights.”

  “With each other?”

  “Huh?”

  “Did you fight with each other?”

  “No. Never. We mostly fought with the boyfriends of the girls we picked up.”

  “You poached the girlfriends of other boys?”

  “Sure. The town boys didn’t like the ranch boys, and vice versa. But the girls like the boys with the cars.”

  She shifted so that she could see the outline of his expression in the darkness. “Are you morally challenged?”

  He didn’t miss a beat. “Most would say yes.”

  “You’re a reprobate.”

  “And a cad.”

  “And—”

  “Shhh,” he warned her.

  “What?”

  “Listen.”

  A low rumbling sound came from the distance. It seemed to grow closer. It got louder. The truck began to vibrate.

  Sawyer swore, bracing his feet against the floorboard and yanking Niki into his arms.

  “Creek’s overflowed,” he announced. “That’s a flash flood.”

  The truck lurched, moving several feet to the side. Objects banged one after the other into the driver’s door and the side of the box.

  Niki stifled a scream, burying her face in Sawyer’s chest. Her hands automatically fisted around his shirt, hanging on tight against the jarring movement.

  The truck lifted, it swung around, the force of the water pushing it backward, debris continuing to rattle and bang against it.

  “Hang on,” he warned.

  “Are we going to die?” she dared to ask.

  “It seems unlikely,” he responded.

  “I’d rather you’d said no.”

  “No.” He gathered her closer.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  Despite her fear, she couldn’t help but grin at that. “You’re a liar.”

  “I am, indeed. But, the creek’s not that deep. I don’t think we’ll sink, and I don’t think we’ll drown. So far, we haven’t flipped over. So, that’s good.”

  “You’re analyzing our situation, calculating the odds of outcomes.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m blindly freaking out here.”

  His chest rumbled as he chuckled. The truck jerked to a stop as it obviously hit something. Then it shifted sideways, with a screech of wrenching metal.

  “I don’t think the truck is going to survive,” Sawyer observed.

  The turn happened in slow motion, until the passenger door slammed into a tree, bringing everything to a halt. Water was still washing around them from the driver’s side, and objects were clanking against the metal.

  “If it gets as high as the glass,” said Sawyer, easing them toward the passenger side of the vehicle. “I’ll kick out the back window, and we can climb that tree.”

  Niki swallowed, her throat dry as sandpaper. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I thought you said we weren’t going to drown.”

  “We’re not.”

  “We’re going to kick out a window and climb a tree?”

  “Only if we have to.”

  “Sawyer,” she pleaded.

  “What? I’m not making this up to annoy you. I’m suggesting our best options.”

  “I don’t like this.”

  “Well, I’m not that thrilled about it, either. Driftwood is pounding the life out of my brand-new truck.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” she allowed.

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “I’m still sorry your truck’s being destroyed.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Sawyer?”

  “Yeah?”

  “There’s water leaking in.”

  “I know.”

  “I feel like we should say or do something momentous.”

  Maybe she should confess her sins, tell him her secrets. Did she want to go to her grave having lied to everyone in Lyndon Valley?

  Sawyer wasn’t exactly the object of her duplicity, but telling him would be something, right? She couldn’t confess to her brothers or her sisters-in-law right now. If Sawyer survived, and she didn’t, he could tell her newfound family the truth. She mustered her courage.

  “Sawyer?”

  “Shh. Listen.”

  “What?”

  “Sirens. I can see the lights. The fire department is on its way.”

  Within minutes, her world became a jumble of flashing lights and shouting voices. Sawyer packed her into a harness, and the firemen towed her to safety. They rescued Sawyer next, and soon she was in the back of a fire-department truck, wrapped in a soft blanket.

  Then she was deposited at the Mayor’s mansion, where Katrina fussed, and Reed barked orders, and she was quickly dry and changed and being ushered into an armchair in the great room of the historic building.

  Niki had never felt like this before, surrounded by family, surrounded by capable people who genuinely seemed to care about her welfare. She was dressed in a pair of loose, grey sweatpants and a baggy blue T-shirt. Seth, the mayor and Katrina’s oldest brother, had brought her a cup of cocoa, and someone made sure there was a tray of cookies on the table beside her.

  The fire department had given Sawyer a ride to his hotel. But Reed was hovering over her now. It seemed as if he was searching for some way to help.

  “Thank you,” Niki told him sincerely.

  “I should have come after you rig
ht away,” said Reed, crouching on one knee next to her chair. “Why didn’t you tell us you needed help?”

  “We were fine when I talked to Katrina. We thought the truck would start and we’d drive home like everybody else.”

  “It’s a mess out there,” said Reed. “I should have expected something like this.”

  Katrina moved closer and put a hand on Reed’s shoulder. “She’s fine, sweetheart. She’s fine.”

  “No thanks to me.”

  “You can help with the cleanup tomorrow,” Katrina

  told him.

  Her words seemed to appease Reed, who stood again.

  “Another cookie?” asked Katrina.

  “I’m stuffed,” said Niki. She glanced around the room, finding only Reed, Seth and Katrina left.

  This was her moment. This was her chance. She mustered her courage and principles, knowing there was no backing away. “I need to talk to you guys, if that’s okay.”

  Katrina took her hand. “Please tell me you’re not going back to Boston. It’s not always like this in Lyndon Valley, I promise.”

  “It’s not that.”

  Well, maybe not that. Once Niki shared what she had to say, she might very well be packing up and heading for Boston or Alaska, or maybe even Canada.

  She was struck with a moment of terrible doubt. Should she really tell them tonight? Would they toss her out into the storm? And, if they felt morally obligated to let her stay here for the night, how awkward would it be at breakfast?

  Once again, Gabriella’s voice was inside her head, urging her to put it off. The truth would still be the truth in the morning. And, in the morning, if she needed to make a clean getaway, she could do it. It would be colossally foolish to anger everyone tonight when there was no place for her to go.

  “Nellie?” Katrina prompted. “Is something wrong?”

  “Yes,” said Niki, steeling her nerve. “Something’s very wrong. And I have to tell you about it.”

  Six

  Sawyer was too keyed up to sleep. Though he’d hardly classify the experience a brush with death, he’d hated having to put Niki in that kind of danger. At the same time, he’d loved kissing her, and he’d relished those moments he’d held her so close in his arms. It had been a foolish mistake, losing control like that, one that he didn’t dare repeat.

  Still, a man could think about it, and a man could relive it. And then a man could get screaming drunk so he’d have a hope in hell of blotting out the memories.

  He dumped another minibar bottle of scotch over the ice cubes in his glass.

  The suite door swung open, and Dylan walked in. “Wondered if you’d make it back,” he began without preamble.

  “Almost didn’t,” said Sawyer. “The creek flooded, and the truck washed away.”

  “Ouch.” Dylan crossed to the bar.

  “We’re going to need a new truck.”

  “Anybody hurt?” Dylan asked as he selected a rye whiskey. Like Sawyer, he tossed a couple of ice cubes into a glass and drained the small bottle.

  “Niki was with me.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Back in the bosom of her family now.”

  Where she belonged, if Sawyer was honest with himself. The more he got to know her, the less he liked what was happening to her.

  Dylan swirled the drink in his glass as he moved to the living area. “Learn anything new?”

  “Not about the diary.” But Sawyer had certainly learned that she was a good kisser, and an incredibly responsive and passionate woman. He also confirmed that he’d give just about anything he had to get her into bed.

  “I saw you danced with her.”

  “I did.”

  “Rethinking my plan to romance her?”

  “Not on purpose.”

  Dylan took a seat in a leather wingback chair. “Okay, that’s intriguing.”

  Sawyer didn’t mean to be intriguing. He meant to mentally beat himself up. “Letting myself get attracted to her is a stupid move.”

  “So, don’t do it.”

  Sawyer shot him a hard stare.

  “There are a lot of hot women in the world, Sawyer. You don’t have to sleep with them all.”

  “I don’t want to sleep with them all.”

  “This would be a good time to start exercising restraint.”

  Sawyer had to admit, Dylan was right about that. Niki was sexy to the point of peril. It was in her genes. It was how Gabriella had manipulated half of D.C. And he still couldn’t completely discount the possibility that Niki was playing him.

  “I kissed her,” Sawyer admitted.

  “No harm in that. Just don’t do anything else. Take her on a picnic or something.”

  “A picnic?” What was this, 1950?

  “Play the sweet, genteel suitor. Bring her flowers and candy. Sit on the front-porch swing.”

  “Have you been watching too much vintage television?”

  “Convince her you’re a nice guy. Romance her, don’t seduce her.”

  Sawyer feared it might be a little late to change tactics.

  “Kiss her, but be sure you don’t take it any further. That’ll get her to start talking,” Dylan finished.

  “What makes you such an expert?” Sawyer asked.

  He hated to admit it, but he was beginning to agree with Dylan. He had to wrap this thing up, and he had to do it quick. His family was at stake, and dating Niki was probably the fastest way to gain her trust. But romancing her, while restraining his instincts to seduce her, was going to be one tough slog.

  “Observations on human nature,” said Dylan.

  “I thought it might be practice.” Sawyer couldn’t resist.

  “Never had a reason to practice restraint,” said Dylan. He paused. “Hope I never do.”

  “But you’re quick to volunteer me.”

  “It’s your job,” Dylan reminded him. “It’s why you’re here.”

  “Fair enough.” Sawyer had to be a man about this. He hadn’t come to Colorado to satisfy his lust. He was here for his family, to save his uncle’s political career. “We’ll try it your way.”

  * * *

  Niki all but squirmed under three pairs of curious eyes. Her mother’s voice inside her brain was loudly condemning. And she desperately wanted to wait until morning to make this confession. But she knew if she let it slide again, she might never tell them the truth.

  “What is it?” Katrina asked. She sat down on the sofa near Niki, while both Reed and Seth remained standing.

  Niki swallowed. She tried valiantly to ignore the warning that was churning in her stomach and Gabriella’s lecture pounding out at the base of her brain.

  “I’m not Nellie Cooper,” she blurted out.

  Gabriella’s voice went silent. Probably in shock.

  Katrina, Reed and Seth all exchanged confused looks.

  “I don’t understand,” Katrina said.

  “I’m not Nellie Cooper.” Niki’s voice came out softer this time, raspy across her drying throat. “My name is Niki Gerard.”

  There. It was out. It was done, and she couldn’t call it back.

  There was a slight quaver in Katrina’s voice. “You’re not our sister?”

  “Oh, no,” Niki quickly assured her. “It’s not—”

  “You lied to us?” Reed boomed.

  “I… Yes,” Niki admitted, braving a look at her brother. “I lied to you all.”

  Katrina came shakily to her feet, backing a few steps away.

  “I’m sorry,” Niki quickly offered, her throat going from dry with fear to raw with pain.

  “We invited you into our home,” Katrina murmured in obvious disbelief.

  “We trusted you,” Reed barked.

  “Who are you?” Seth asked, voice milder than Reed’s.

  “I’m Niki Gerard,” Niki repeated.

  But Seth shook his head. “Who are you? Why would you come here? Why would you do that?”

  “I’m your sister,” Niki said to Reed. “I’m not
from Boston, and my name’s not Nellie, but everything else—”

  “You’re a fraud,” Reed spat.

  “Wait, Reed,” said Seth, staring at Niki with undisguised curiosity.

  “Wait for what?” Reed challenged. “For another lie? I don’t think so.” He turned on his heel and stomped from the room.

  Katrina looked distressed and confused. But she quickly followed her husband.

  Niki clenched her jaw, determined not to cry. She gripped the arm of the sofa, preparing to rise, hoping her legs would hold her. She wished she could walk straight out the front door. But her purse was upstairs in one of the bedrooms. She needed that at the very least.

  She stood. She wasn’t sure how she’d get the rest of her things from the Terrells’ ranch, but she’d have to work that out later. Right now, getting herself out of here was as much as she could manage.

  “What are you doing?” Seth demanded as she took a step toward the formal staircase.

  “I am so sorry,” she managed, her voice cracking ever so slightly with the effort. “I need my things.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Upstairs.” She didn’t know what she’d do if he threw her directly out the front door.

  “Sit down,” he told her.

  She hesitated.

  “I don’t care how angry Reed gets. This is my house, and you’re welcome here.”

  Her knees wobbled. “But…” She gazed into Seth’s face. “I don’t understand.”

  His voice went soft, his expression turning patient. “And neither do I. And that’s why you’re going to explain it to me.”

  Niki had no idea what to say. “You’re not angry?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t yet know what you did.” He gestured to the sofa behind her. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me?”

  Her glance went reflexively to the archway where Reed and then Katrina had disappeared.

  “Don’t worry about them,” said Seth.

  “I’m very worried about them.”

  It didn’t matter how much more she explained to Seth. The damage was done. Reed wasn’t going to get over this. He was never going to forgive her for lying.

  “Sit,” Seth told her gently.

  She did so.

  Seth took the other end of the sofa.

  She waited for a question, but he seemed to be waiting for an answer.

  She cracked first. “My name is Niki Gerard,” she began a little shakily. “My mother was Gabriella Gerard. She did just die, and I found out about Wilton and Reed and Caleb from her papers, exactly as I said. But it was in D.C., not Boston. And I came here.” A soft sob escaped from her throat, and it took her a minute to recover. “I came here because I was afraid to stay in D.C.”