To the Studs

by Roxanne Smith

  “It didn’t stay good, though, did it?” Duke asked, though he knew the answer.

  Cherish gave him a sad smile. “Unfortunately not. Ben Huxley didn’t marry for love, understand. So, when he met and fell for Florrie, well, it fairly rocked this town. Relations were had. That much wasn’t uncommon. But Ben didn’t do anything halfway. He built Florrie that cabin on the very same land where he lived with his wife and boys. We guess this happened when his oldest was about twelve. So around 1920 or thereabouts. Ben was thirty-seven, possibly thirty-eight, and Florrie couldn’t have been more than nineteen. So, Ben had more than one mark against him. Mistresses, even black ones, weren’t uncommon, but you didn’t park them next door to your family.”

  Duke chewed his lip. He and Neve hadn’t considered a relationship of love. He leaned forward. “So, he didn’t build her the cabin because he got her pregnant? My partner and I just assumed. I mean, why else build her a house on his land?”

  Cherish’s hand splayed across her chest and she blinked at him. “How did you know about the child?”

  “I met Krandall Beels. He doesn’t know much about his history, but he knows the cabin was in his family at one time.”

  A wry grin spread over Cherish’s wrinkled lips and she relaxed. “Well, you’re right, but not many folks know it. Right about the baby, not about their relationship. Florrie took up residence at the cabin, along with the deed from Ben, in 1920, same year they met. Florrie didn’t have her baby until near the end of ’22. She was murdered in the summer of ’23, when the baby was nearly six months old. So, we can reckon on a winter delivery, but don’t have an exact date for the baby’s birth.”

  “Okay, okay.” Duke nodded, trying to work out the math. “So, given how young Florrie was, Krandall might actually be her grandson. His father is the missing baby. Neve and I, we can’t fathom what happened to the baby after Florrie died. He lived, or Krandall wouldn’t exist.”

  Cherish took a good look at Duke for the first time. “May I ask why the interest in all of this? It happened so long ago.”

  “Actually, that was my next question.” Duke bent over and wrested the strange box from his bag. Gingerly, he held it out for Cherish. “Do you recognize this? Can you tell me anything about it, like what it is, where it came from, or who may have designed it?”

  Her brow furrowed. Before taking the box, she removed her glasses. She turned the chest over in her hands, and Duke’s heart fell long before she shook her little old head and gave him an apologetic shrug. “I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t tell you anything at all.”

  Duke took it back and sighed. “We think it’s a lockbox. Someone buried at the cabin, and we wondered if it didn’t have anything to do with the history, given the aging of the container. There’s no telling what’s inside. And no finding out until we locate the key. You can’t think of a metalworker from these parts that might’ve used the same material or design?”

  Cherish returned her bifocals to their perch on her rounded nose and shook her head. “I’m sorry, hon. I wish I could help. I’ve never seen anything like that contraption there.”

  Duke shrugged, smiled at her, and returned the box to his man purse. “It’s no big deal. Though, I’m a little surprised after talking with you. You sure do know your history. Tim Hux doesn’t seem to know much beyond the story of Florrie and Lulu’s ghosts supposedly haunting the cabin.”

  Her mouth turned into that funny little frown again. “He knows more than he lets on. That Hux boy went to school with Krandall Beels. They were born the same year. Obviously, he must know there was a child. Florrie had no brothers.”

  “But…well, why isn’t the baby a Hux? Why’d Florrie’s name get passed on?”

  “You can’t imagine any of Ben’s boys would’ve tolerated the poor thing. Someone would’ve smothered the babe while he slept. I always reckoned some friend of Florrie’s, maybe even one of the girls she worked with, had the baby when Lulu murdered Florrie. Because there was never no talk of a fourth heir to the ranch, and one of the older women raised herself a son named Paul Beels, which some folks thought was her way of honoring her murdered friend, because not everybody knew Florrie had given birth. Some did, though, or put the pieces together. As for Ben, he seemed to give up on life after Florrie passed. He’d already quit the boozing and whoring. He lived the rest of his days on the ranch. Almost a recluse till the day he passed away, and his boys took over the family business. By then, the cabin had already been claimed by the…uh, well, the brothel Florrie worked for. Wasn’t no secret Ben had deeded it to her. And the Hux boys didn’t fight it. Most folks think they were happy to have it officially broken off from the ranch. But that didn’t stop the new name from spreading like wildfire. Lady Killer Ranch.”

  Chills broke out on Duke’s skin. “Cherish, how do you know so much about what happened? You tell an awfully detailed story for standard recordkeeping.”

  “Oh, hon.” She put a friendly hand over his and smiled, a knowing grin behind which were secrets beyond what she’d shared. “I know it because it’s my family history. Krandall Beels is my son. And his daddy was Florrie’s missing baby. I heard the story firsthand from the woman who raised him.”

  * * * *

  Lightning might as well have been shooting from her fingertips.

  In a good way, for once.

  Neve hated to celebrate too soon, but she’d done it. She’d truly done it. Eight weeks and one defunct cabin later, and she had this to show for it. Seven weeks and five days—two days ahead of scheduled completion.

  A merry fire crackled in the unblocked fireplace. The old chimney stones had been scrubbed clean, and the firelight danced off the natural dips and ancient marks, like history itself. Nearly everything was in place. She’d even nicked a roll of toilet paper from her trailer. The dishes she’d picked out were strategically placed on the made-up table, which she’d had stained the same dark mahogany as the front window frame. The thick forest-green canvas curtains were swept back from the small window to allow dappled sunlight to splash across the cabin’s interior, along with a special glow and refraction pattern from the diamond panes of the French doors.

  Rustic and clean, ancient and new, sleek and cozy. The perfect balance.

  Just one last touch. The sprinkle of brown sugar atop a muffin. The hint of cocoa in homemade chili.

  Okay, so the glass chandeliers weren’t as subtle as that. They would, however, be the element that took it over the top—from perfect to wow.

  She opened up the ladder at the same time Kay bounded in holding one of the chandeliers. The tapered end draped over one arm. How the hell she managed to bound and keep her grip on ten pounds of metal and gems was a question for science. The biceps on her tiny arms bulged, but she maneuvered herself effortlessly and smiled hugely at Neve.

  “This is incredible. The task seemed so impossible when I first arrived. I mean, I’ve seen some major transformations in school and stuff. But this place…” Her eyes went wide as though there was nothing left to say.

  Neve supposed there wasn’t. She climbed to the top of the ladder and held herself steady against the crossbeam with the fixture base attached. She planted her feet and kept her balance while Kay handed up the chandelier.

  They repeated the process until the two glittering pieces hung side by side, just as Neve had envisioned. Together, she and Kay backed up to the entrance and surveyed the finished project.

  Kay sighed in her adoring way. “This is why I want to work for you so desperately. This morning, I was so upset about Finn leaving—” She stopped abruptly and turned big eyes to Neve.

  Neve grinned wryly. “Was it supposed to be a secret?”

  “Well, no. Not exactly. I mean, professionally speaking, having a crush on one of the crew members is probably a bad thing, right? They didn’t cover that in design school.”

  If a crush was bad, knowing how Neve felt about Duke would rock Kay’s world.

  She
didn’t like thinking about Duke. She still caught herself reeling whenever she played over the scene with Gavin and realized Duke had been right. She owed them both an apology but had no clue where to even start.

  At the beginning, for dragging Duke into this in the first place? For not telling Duke her suspicions about Gavin when they occurred to her? For taking her anger out on Duke in such a sexually perverse manner? Although, he seemed to have enjoyed it at the time.

  “Anyway, the whole Finn thing had me down. Even though he gave me his number. I should’ve called it while he was still here, huh? Because I’m thinking it’s not his real number, and he was just being nice. But right now, I’m standing in the presidential suite of cabins, and I can’t feel anything but proud. And blown away. And kind of intimidated.”

  Neve patted Kay on the shoulder. “It’s my rigid, unyielding belief that lying is cowardice in its rawest form. For what it’s worth, Finn didn’t strike me as the dishonest type.”

  Kay sighed in her small, happy way. “You know, everyone wants the truth. But there are times…well, let’s say I’ve always figured it’s what we do with the truth that matters.”

  The simple insight hit Neve like a slap.

  Miserable. Horrible. You nailed me in more ways than one, Duke.

  Neve forced a quick smile for Kay’s sake. She couldn’t let the toothy beam on the girl’s face go unanswered. “I’m sure you’re right. I like you, Kay. You should come to work for me on a permanent basis. Vince seems to think we can make a go of designing houses from the ground up.” She glanced at Kay. “Your face is going to split in half if you don’t give that crazy smile a rest.”

  “I know!” She issued an excited squeal and danced on her toes. “It hurts, but I can’t stop. You mean it? For real? For, like, real real?”

  Neve bit her lip. “We might have to work something into your contract about caffeine restrictions. Have your pediatrician call me.” She let herself smile at Kay’s soft snort. Then she sighed. “Okay, I can’t put it off any longer. I haven’t talked to Duke since yesterday, but we need his stamp of approval before we call Gavin back here to see the finished product. Do you mind fetching him for me?”

  Kay’s smile faltered. “Sure thing, Boss.” She paused in the act of taking a step toward the exit and tilted her head. “Are you guys okay? How do you avoid someone you live with in an eight-by-ten can?”

  “For your information, it’s an eight-by-thirty. And two determined adults can do anything they put their minds to.”

  Kay accepted the dismissal, leaving Neve alone with her masterpiece.

  Alone, alone, alone. As per usual. Even Darcy the Pit had abandoned her almost entirely in favor of Hannah’s company. Being a few years older, she napped quite a lot. Darcy was more than happy to go along with that plan. Besides, the days were hot and long.

  Neve turned around and gasped. Her hands instinctively fisted in front of her chest. “Goddamn it, Yosemite! Is there something you have against not scaring the shit out of people?”

  He paused at the threshold and scanned the cabin’s interior with an unreadable gaze.

  She didn’t overly care about his opinion, either way. She loved the cabin, and in a way, that mattered more than if the client loved it. Yet, she wouldn’t deny a certain curiosity. She shifted her fists to her hips and cocked one for good measure. “Lay it on me, Hux. I know you’ve got something brewing under that hat of yours.”

  He removed his hat. Underneath, bland light brown hair rested on its side, like his mother had fixed it for him that morning. He blinked up at the chandeliers. “Wow.”

  “Really?” She stroked her chin thoughtfully. “Doesn’t seem your style.”

  His gaze traveled from the over-the-top light fixtures to the gleaming custom cabinets and stone countertops of the kitchen. “I didn’t know you could do stuff like this.”

  She’d truly consider taking offense with anyone else. “My confidence just jettisoned into the next layer of the atmosphere. Did you see it? Like a shooting star.”

  He grinned wryly as his gaze finally found hers. His eyes were open wider than usual and shining with newfound wonder and respect. “That ain’t no lip, city girl. When you said you were gonna fix this place up, I thought you meant making it inhabitable again. Back to normal. This here ain’t normal.” His eyebrows rose with conviction. “Definitely not normal for any cabin I’ve ever laid eyes on, anyhow.”

  Neve shook her head. Backwoods as they came. “You ever want to put a spit-shine on that ranch house of yours, you know who to call.”

  He shook his head. “Only city boys like Gavin and old money can afford stuff like this.” He looked around again, still taking it in. His attention landed on the bed, sitting out in the open, not three feet from where two chairs cozied up to the fireplace. He scratched his head but didn’t say a word.

  He definitely hadn’t spent much time in a city. Or a studio apartment.

  Neve paced to the end of the bed and relaxed against the post, tucking her thumbs through her front belt loops. Damn, Yosemite must be growing on her. “Actually, this was a remarkably affordable job. Thanks to you, we came in a mile under budget. We built these two walls here to create the bathroom and put up secondary walls after adding spray-foam insulation. All with the supply from Lady Killer. The rest is the original wood, polished and coated with sealant. Hell, even the custom kitchen came from your old hayloft. Not much I can do about having to buy new appliances—the shower stall, fridge and stove—but the furniture I refurbished. Every piece is secondhand.”

  “And these?” He pointed up, doubting her chandeliers.

  Oh, but they were stunning. She’d been right about them, if not about anything else. “Those were a gift from Providence. Dumb kid at the flea market thought they were glass. They were filthy. Had he cleaned them, he might’ve noticed the colors. Only crystal reflects a rainbow back at you. If Gavin were real, real smart, he’d have them suckers appraised. They may be worth far more than even I realized.”

  Tim huffed and stared at her. “And you stuck them inside a dirty old cabin in the middle of nowhere?”

  She shrugged. “That’s what they pay me for.”

  He grunted, half in disbelief. The other half was definitely envy.

  She never did find out what Timothy had going on at his ranch. It troubled her, but no more than realizing she’d miss his easy company. She’d finally met a guy who made her comfortable with herself, and it had to be a shady rancher in the middle of nowhere with some truly creepy family history.

  “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, cowboy?” Duke would be here any minute, and she’d have to endure one of those hooded looks he always gave Tim then pinned on her like she was hiding something, too.

  Tim mimicked her stance, thumbs through belt loops. “I came to invite you to dinner. If my calendar ain’t broke, this is your last week.” He swept another openly impressed gaze around the room. “And clearly, someone ought to pour you a glass of bubbly and make a toast. To you. It’s really something else.”

  A sweet warmth spread through Neve’s chest like a tulip opening up for the sun. Normally, when a team finished a job, someone threw up a hoorah! and they were on to the next project. Occasionally, clients made special gestures for Neve and her team. But few times in her life had someone outside of a project suggested she deserved kudos for her handiwork beyond her paycheck. Most people acted like it all came with some kind of manual, when in fact she pieced together one day at a time with meticulous planning and—as in the case of the crystal chandeliers—a little bit of luck.

  She pushed away from the bedpost and swung an arm around Tim’s broad shoulders. Not as broad as Duke’s, but not bad. Somewhere along the way she’d forgotten to flirt, and the sexual tinge between them had faded into the ether. That was fine with her. She didn’t need any more visitors to her bed, but she could damn sure use a friend. “Dinner it is. Just as soon as my useless partner
puts his meaningless stamp on my finished product.”

  Chapter 12

  Darcy the Pit and Hannah were heaped together in a tangled mass of fur, giant paws, and wet dog snores that Duke tried to ignore in his deep concentration, a study that so far had led him nowhere. The locked box wouldn’t give up its well-guarded secrets no matter how often he fondled it. He bit back a sigh and turned the chest over in his hands. He ran his fingers over the strange lock. The strange little box couldn’t possibly be the only one in existence. Someone somewhere had to know where it came from and who’d made it. Maybe they’d have to branch out.

  They?

  Did Neve even remember their mystery box existed at this point? He didn’t mind going solo. After all, he’d been the one to discover Krandall and learn Florrie’s story from Cherish. Duke hadn’t bothered to fill Neve in on the details. They’d done a splendid job of avoiding each other since their last confrontation.

  He should’ve felt as smug as shit over it. He was probably one of the only people on the planet who’d ever seen Neve’s face overcome with shame. So, why did he feel guilty? All he’d done was point out the obvious. Neve’s love of honesty blinded her to courtesy. In Duke’s opinion, there was room for both in any circumstance. To ignore one in favor of the other was ignorance at best. Cruelty at worst.

  She hardly managed eye contact lately, let alone full sentences. As for his excuse, he wasn’t the type to harp. He’d made his point. She understood. If Neve had the pair of balls she loved to claim, she’d apologize to Gavin at some point. After the way Duke had lied to her, he didn’t expect one for himself.