by Jo Barrett
Kat knew Lucinda and Bo were the best players at the table—better than she. Although her Pa Pa had taught her a few tricks of the craft, Bo Harlan was formidable. The oilman didn’t flinch whenever he was dealt a hand. His body language was cool, calm, and calculated. He sweated constantly so this couldn’t be attributed to a bad set of cards, but his eyes remained nonchalant and expressionless.
Aunt Lucinda winked at Kathleen because if either of them won, it wouldn’t matter much. They’d just trade-up at the end.
The key was beating Bo.
Kat surveyed the cards in her hand. It was dangerous to go out with a pair of queens, but this was all she had.
She felt Bo Harlan’s eyes on her. The oilman was serious as death when it came to his card games, and no matter how much Shelby Lynn Pierce teased him, he didn’t stray from his cards.
Kathleen wanted to win back Dylan’s oil well. She wanted it so badly she could envision it in her mind, but as soon as she set her cards down, she realized she’d made a grave mistake.
Bo Harlan’s expression changed. He set his cards down, and Kat saw that he’d beaten her with the wild card.
“Sorry, babe,” he said, looking pleased with himself. “I guess this means we’re calling it the ‘King-Harlan Annual Dinner.’”
“Stop it, Bo. Don’t be ridiculous,” Shelby Lynn said from across the room.
“No, Shelby. He’s right.” Kathleen swallowed hard. “Fair is fair and he beat me.” She felt a pit growing in her stomach and spreading up her spine. She’d tried to do the right thing, but now what?
Kat felt the bile rise up in her throat, and she had to swallow hard to keep from throwing up.
“Not so fast, Mr. Harlan,” Lucinda piped up.
Kathleen glanced over at the Duchess and watched with wide eyes as Lucinda spread out her cards in a fan across the table.
Bo Harlan’s eyes widened and his face went ash gray.
“Well I’ll be a sonofabitch,” he whispered.
Lucinda’s hand was all aces.
Kathleen sighed deeply. She clapped her hands against her cheeks and mouthed the words “thank you” to Lucinda.
The Duchess clucked and turned her nose in the air.
“You thought you were gonna get yourself a year’s supply of home cooking…well, think again, darlin’. This old lady’s bones are starting to ache.”
Shelby Lynn tapped her fingernails against the table. “See, Bo. I told you Lucinda would wipe your ass.”
“You sure did,” Bo Harlan breathed.
At least he’s big enough to admit he lost, Kat thought.
“So let me guess how this works, Lucinda. I give you the Clarissa #7 and you pass it right on over to her,” Bo said, thumbing his big thumb toward Kathleen.
“Oh, don’t you mess with me,” Lucinda scolded. She motioned to Kathleen. “Kids are getting married, and I think an oil well makes a fine wedding gift, what do you think?” she said, shooting Bo her famous better-leave-well-enough-alone eyes.
Bo Harlan looked ruffled. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and the deep purple pallor of his skin looked as if he’d run a marathon. He licked his lips, grabbed a mini quiche off one of the platters, and stuffed it in his mouth.
“Hell, what’s one less oil lease…I’ve got a ton of ’em,” Bo huffed, standing from his chair. “Ladies, it’s been a pleasure,” he said.
Kathleen was amazed when the chubby oilman strode over to Shelby Lynn Pierce, grabbed her tightly around the waist, and gave her a dance dip.
“I’ve been searching for you all my life, beautiful,” he said as Shelby Lynn hooted with laughter.
Kat could see that the scrappy oilman (who’d worked his way up from nothing) and the flawless and fabulously wealthy Shelby Lynn Pierce had somehow, and magically, fallen madly in love. She was happy for her new friends.
Kathleen walked over to Lucinda. Her former nanny was drinking another pot of tea, with her pinky finger outstretched—as if she were royalty herself.
No one except Cullen Davis King and Kathleen Connor King knew who the real card shark was. It’d been Lucinda all along.
What Bo Harlan didn’t realize was that Lucinda was carrying her own deck of cards in her purse. Lucinda always carried her own cards. She and Kat had planned the tasting menu and poker game down to every last detail. They didn’t know for sure whether Lucinda could beat Bo Harlan. But Kathleen never lost faith.
She leaned down and squeezed Lucinda’s shoulders. “You never cease to amaze,” she said.
“Oh, child. Please.” Lucinda crinkled her eyes.
“Pa Pa loved you,” Kat whispered.
“Don’t talk nonsense,” Lucinda said, fluttering her hand.
Kat knew her former nanny would never admit to the longstanding love affair she’d had with Cullen Davis King. No one had ever suspected it. There’d never been even a whiff of a rumor.
But Kathleen knew it was Lucinda who’d woken up next to her grandfather the morning that he’d died. He’d possibly even said his last words to her. And this made Lucinda family.
“Dylan and Wyatt are going to be over the moon when they find out,” Kathleen said.
Lucinda crinkled her eyes and patted Kathleen on the cheek. “I can’t imagine a happier day.”
Fifty-two
Watching a six-thousand-ton oil rig snap in half was not your average, run-of-the-mill event.
The crew chief was shouting out orders to the men racing in all directions. Dylan stared at the chaos surrounding the snapped rig. Smoke and flames rocketed up through the hole, and massive steel beams fell like boulders from the sky.
“At least no one’s died,” Wyatt said.
“Yeah, we’re lucky,” C. Todd said dryly. He’d snapped up a phone and was making a frantic call to the insurance company.
Dylan jogged toward the mobile command unit. He tore through the doorway and spotted Einrich Von Hearn. The Golden Buddha was sitting calmly in front of his panels of computer screens with his eyes closed.
“This is insane!” Dylan hissed. He knew that his geologist had been working a twelve-hour shift, but was he actually asleep? Dylan rushed over to his geologist and shook him hard on the shoulders. “Wake up!” he shouted.
“How could I sleep with all this booming?” Einrich said, his eyes snapping open. He tugged his white beard and shook his head.
“Tell me our options,” Dylan said, dropping into an empty chair.
“The hole has much water,” Einrich said, pulling at his beard. “We need to keep stirring so the earth doesn’t collapse inside, and”—he motioned outside the windows to the snapped rig—“we need new drill.”
Dylan dropped his head into his hands. He’d been working with a bare-bones budget as it was, and now he’d have to fund a new drilling rig?
“Impossible,” he said through his teeth
“Insurance won’t pay?” Einrich asked.
“Not for this,” Dylan said. He’d taken a risk signing the contract. In order to save bundles of money—money that he didn’t have—Dylan had assumed the risk of all liability.
This meant he was out.
“I have good news, believe it or not,” Einrich said.
“Let’s hear it.”
The Golden Buddha punched some keys on his computer and pointed to the flat computer screen monitor on the wall. Dylan leaned forward and stared at what looked to be a huge stain on the seismic map in front of him.
He felt his stomach leap into his throat. “Don’t tell me,” he choked.
“We have found the field,” Einrich said. “It is deep, deep. But we have found it.”
“How…how much are we talking about, here?”
Einrich worked his lips feverishly trying to come up with the exact number. “This will be…biggest field discovery of my career.” The geologist sighed.
“If we can tap it,” Dylan breathed. He didn’t want to get too excited. There was always a catch. Even if they found an ocean of gas, it didn’t m
ean they could successfully extract it.
Dylan didn’t want to be in the position of handing the reins over to one of the big dogs on the block. Like Shell or Exxon.
He wanted to maintain control. But how could he possibly come up with the money for a new rig?
C. Todd Hartwell’s investors were tapped out. Jonathan Whipley had already written a huge check, and Dylan couldn’t go back for more. Steve had committed for his company in Louisiana to do the expensive completion work once the well had been successfully drilled, which included getting the oil and gas “to market.” And Wyatt relied solely on his charm and good looks.
Dylan considered whom he could ask for the money. A thought suddenly struck him, and he leaped from his chair.
She’s going to kill me.
Fifty-three
“No,” Kat said. She crossed her arms over her chest and shot Dylan a stern look.
He dropped down onto his knees on the floor. “Please, hon.”
“No!”
“How come?”
Kathleen glared at her fiancé. She now knew what all the fuss had been about. First, he’d taken her to Indika—her favorite Indian restaurant—a place that Dylan loathed because the spices gave him gas. Then he’d surprised her with a flower bouquet. When Kat had asked him the occasion, he’d replied, “Just because.”
And now this. She should’ve known.
Dylan cupped her hands in his. He was staring up at her so sincerely it nearly melted her heart.
Damn, she thought. He’s good.
“First of all, it’s illegal,” she said.
“Since when have you been big on technicalities?”
“Get off the floor. You don’t need to beg like a dog,” Kat instructed. She began tapping her foot impatiently.
Dylan scrambled off the floor and stood in front of her. “Do you want me to do my naked dance?” he asked. He pulled off his shirt and began swinging it over his head.
Kat was not amused.
“I am not amused,” she announced.
“Aw, c’mon, hon. Give a guy a break,” Dylan grumbled. Before Kat knew what was happening, he’d grabbed her and thrown her on the bed.
She kicked at him as he struggled to lie on top of her.
“Easy, wild Kat,” he said in that sultry voice that got her every time.
Kat pushed Dylan off her and propped up on her elbows. “Why do you have to steal money from my foundation?”
“Not steal,” Dylan said, flicking his finger in the air. “Borrow.”
“And what if you drill a dry hole?” Kat pouted. “What then, Einstein?”
Dylan ignored her and swept his arm through the air. “You should’ve seen it, hon,” he whistled. “It’s huge. And it’s right underneath your granddad’s property. The property that you now own.”
“The first rule in oil and gas is never count your chickens before they’re hatched,” Kat said. She leaned forward and ruffled Dylan’s hair.
“It’s a risk, hon. I realize. But if anything happens, I promise I’ll pay it back. To the last penny.”
“And how do you intend to make this miracle happen?”
“I’ll get a job.” Dylan shrugged.
“You’re not qualified,” Kat said.
“Funny girl,” Dylan said. He reached out and pinched Kat on her bottom.
She scooted away from him. Kat considered telling Dylan about the Clarissa #7, but Lucinda wanted it to be a wedding surprise. And there was no going against the Duchess.
Besides, Kat thought. It’s not enough money anyway. Not for what Dylan wanted.
He’d asked to borrow a million dollars out of the King Family Foundation escrow account. If the oil well “produced,” he’d pay back the money with interest. If the well didn’t perform, Kat didn’t know how he’d ever pay it back.
“I can’t in good conscience,” Kat said. She’d almost made up her mind when she spotted something. A teardrop. Falling from Dylan’s right eye onto the bedsheets.
“Are you…?” Kat asked, softly.
“Heck no!” Dylan said just as another tear hit the sheets.
“Oh my Lord! Dylan, you’re crying!”
Kat rushed into the bathroom and grabbed some Kleenex. She leaped onto the bed and dabbed at Dylan’s face, which was now streaked with tears.
“My dad is dead,” Dylan said, as if recognizing this fact for the first time.
“I know, sweetheart.”
“And I don’t want to ever be a loser like him.”
“You won’t.”
“How do you know?”
Kathleen stroked Dylan’s hair, which was still damp from the shower. “Pa Pa always told me there were two kinds of people in this world. Givers and takers. And you’re a giver. Look what you did for your mother, Dylan, while she was alive. You protected her. You cared for her. And look what you’re doing for Wyatt. God knows where he’d be without you. Dead in a ditch somewhere. You’re a caretaker, my love. You always have been.”
Dylan snuggled his head against Kat’s shoulder. She was probably a sucker. Her mother would’ve told her not to give in. But Kat couldn’t help it.
“Just don’t lose it,” Kat murmured. “I could never forgive myself if that money didn’t go toward the hospital.”
“I promise,” Dylan whispered. He kissed the sapphire ring on her finger and rolled on top of her. “Now let’s make a baby,” he said.
“You know I can’t,” Kat said.
Dylan stroked Kat’s breasts and she suddenly felt warm all over. “Hell, hon. You’re taking all the fun out of trying.”
Fifty-four
The next morning, Dylan and Kat left early so they could make it to the bank right as it opened. Dylan pulled through the drive-through at Taco Bell and ordered them a round of breakfast taquitos and steaming hot coffees. Kat said she didn’t want any and wasn’t hungry, but Dylan held a taquito beneath her nose until she snatched it away from his grip and took a bite.
“Thadda girl.” Dylan chuckled. Kathleen had always been a small eater, but sometimes it got ridiculous.
“These are sinful,” she said, pulling another taquito from the greasy bag and crunching it between her teeth.
A few minutes later, Dylan swung the truck into the Bank of Houston parking lot.
He turned toward Kat. She was wearing a conservative navy skirt and white blouse buttoned to her neck, which made her look like a sexy librarian. Kat always dressed up for the bank, especially when she was about to withdraw a million-dollar cashier’s check.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked She shot him a look that said, Don’t push it.
“Look, hon. Have I ever told you the story about Colonel Edwin Drake?”
“Who’s that?” Kat asked. She’d turned her full attention toward Dylan and blinked a few times, before staring at him dead on with those eyes of hers.
“Well, the truth about Colonel Edwin Drake is that he wasn’t actually a colonel. He made up the title to impress the townsfolk of Titusville, Pennsylvania, back in the 1850s.”
“So?”
“So Edwin Drake came to this small town in Pennsylvania to drill for oil. Back then, the only way these wildcatters could figure out how to drill was the same way they drilled for water. But there were so many problems they ran into that Drake’s investors kept running out of money. He had to keep borrowing more and more to keep drilling. Anyway, the costs got way out of hand and people started calling the project ‘Drake’s Folly.’”
“Let me guess, he struck oil and made everyone happy in the end,” Kat said. She flipped down the visor and checked her face in the mirror.
“You got it, babe. On the very day that Drake got an order to cease his drilling operations, pay out all his remaining bills, and close up shop—he struck oil. They had gotten down to about seventy feet—Can you imagine? Seventy feet back then?—when they shined down some lights and saw oil floating in the hole.”
“What happened next?”
“It was like the gold rush of the Wild West. Titusville, Pennsylvania, had been a quiet little farming area, but towns sprang up overnight and the whole area was covered in derricks. Pennsylvania supplied half of the world’s oil until we discovered it here in East Texas in 1901.”
Kat flipped up the visor and looked at Dylan. “Thank you, Professor. That was very enlightening. Now, why don’t you sit tight while I go get you your million dollars.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
Dylan watched Kat hop out of the truck and walk toward the bank. Before she entered the front doors, she reached her hand back and smacked her own ass.
Dylan rolled down his window. “Nice one, hon!”
He leaned back in the seat and considered what he was doing. If the well didn’t produce, he’d be in trouble with Kathleen, with Felix, with Jonathan Whipley, and possibly with the law since he was borrowing money from a charitable escrow account and using it for personal purposes.
For a moment, Dylan closed his eyes and prayed. He prayed for positive energy, he prayed for the world to work out right, for things to center themselves. Most of all, he prayed for a miracle.
A moment later, he heard the passenger door click open. “Praying isn’t going to help, Colonel,” Kat said. She handed Dylan the cashier’s check.
“What will help?” Dylan asked. He stared down at the million-dollar check.
“You.”
“English, Kathleen. Please.”
“Pa Pa used to spend day and night out at his drill sites,” Kathleen said. “Even when he’d made all the money he could ever dream of, he still knew every detail of every little thing. You need to do the same. Otherwise, people might start calling it ‘Dylan’s Folly.’”
Dylan stared at his fiancée and realized he’d been dumber than dirt. What the hell had he been thinking? As if wearing a T-shirt with an eagle emblazoned on it was enough? Why had he been out on the golf course during the drilling? Cullen Davis King wouldn’t be caught dead on a golf course during a drill. Dylan thought about all the photographs he’d seen inside Cullen King’s library. In the fields of East Texas—out in the nitty-gritty of it all—with his team. Why wasn’t Dylan inside the mobile command unit at all times?