Texas Bad Boys

by Rosemary Laurey, Karen Kelley

  Two

  Anger, shock, and a touch of fury propelled Rod across the road with just a quick “Gotta go!” to his buddies. He pushed open the door and looked around his bar. What the hell was Mary-Beth playing at? The two suits were getting ready to leave. Maude Wilson and her cronies were playing rummy, as they did most afternoons, practicing character assassination as they bet for nickel points. The only other occupant was the sharp-looking redhead he’d noticed earlier walking up Center Street.

  Her perky little butt was poised on one of the counter stools while she ate…he walked closer…a burger and onion rings. A bacon burger with Swiss.

  Cold rage at Pete’s double-dealing clenched Rod’s gut. Still not quite believing, suspecting some twisted joke, Rod met Mary-Beth’s eyes. She shifted them sideways to the redhead.

  Shit! Okay, deep breath here. He could hardly yank her lovely butt off the stool and slug her one. His mamma had taught him better than that, but dammit, what did she think she was doing claiming his bar as her own? Might as well find out.

  Giving Mary-Beth a warning glance to stay cool, he took the stool nearest Madame Bar Snatcher. “Hey, there, Mary-Beth. How about pulling me a nice, cold beer.”

  “I’m sorry. Excuse me,” the redhead said and moved her pocketbook, giving him a glimpse of deep green eyes before she turned back to her onion rings, cut one into four, stabbed a piece with the fork, and chewed carefully.

  A snob and prissy. Nice boobs, though. Not that it was likely to do him any good. Her hair was something else, though: the color of new pennies, and cut short in a mass of curls. He itched to reach out and let a strand of hair curl over his fingers. Pity it came with a bar snatcher attached.

  “Here you are, Rod.” Mary-Beth set his glass down with a thud…and a smirk. “Anything else I can get you?”

  “Fine, thanks. This is just what I need.”

  She rolled her eyes and proceeded to refill Miss Prissy’s ice water. What exactly Mary-Beth had done to earn that wide smile he’d like to know, but her turning to look up at Mary-Beth did enable him to catch Miss Prissy’s eye.

  “Howdy!”

  “Good afternoon,” she replied, with a little nod.

  “Enjoying Silver Gulch?” he asked before she had a chance to chop up another onion ring.

  She paused as if weighing up whether to snub him or not.

  “It’s interesting. Smaller than I imagined but”—she gave him the oddest look as her mouth twitched at the corner—“definitely fascinating.”

  “Here on a visit or just passing through town?” he asked, nicely casual, as he lifted his glass and took a drink.

  She smiled, almost chuckled. Her green eyes crinkled at the corners as she looked him in the eye. “I’ll be staying, Mr. Carter.”

  Rod almost spluttered his Hefeweizen all over himself and the counter. He grabbed his handkerchief and wiped his mouth, thanking heaven he didn’t have beer running out of his nose. Damn her! Damn the smug little smirk on her pretty face! And double damn Mary-Beth for setting him up like this!

  “It wasn’t Mary-Beth, so don’t give her the evil eye like that.”

  Read minds, could she? “How did you know who I was?”

  “An educated guess, Mr. Carter. Gabe Rankin told me your name. Minutes after I identify myself to Mary-Beth you appear off the street, where you were chatting. How many ‘Rods’ are there in a town this size?” While he digested that, she held out a slim, long-fingered hand. “I’m Juliet ffrench. My grandfather left me this building and the business.”

  “We’ll see about that!”

  He felt her green eyes watching him as he stormed out. Gabe Rankin had some explaining to do.

  After twenty minutes cooling his heels waiting to see Gabe and an acrimonious ten minutes face-to-face, Rod learned Old Man Maddock had done him dirty and given away the Rooster from under his feet.

  “We had a deal!” Rod protested.

  “I know you did,” Gabe replied, shaking his head. “He knew it too. Said he had only three parcels of property and they had to go to his granddaughters. Said he’d make it right with you.”

  But the old codger had upended his fishing boat before he could. “So what now? I get kicked out after building up the business?”

  “Now, calm down, Rod,” Gabe went on. “It’s not too bad. Part of the agreement was Mizz ffrench keep on all the employees.” So he was an employee now, was he? “If you ask me, she’ll not hang around long, whatever she’s saying right now. You mark my words. Give it a couple of months and she’ll be back in London and you’ll be running the Rooster just like always.”

  Not quite like always. He’d no longer be working for himself but prissy Mizz ffrench. “What if I just quit?” There was an idea!

  Gabe waved his hands palms outermost and shook his head. “Now don’t you start making hasty decisions, Rod. Why not bide your time and see how things go? The Rooster wouldn’t be the same without you.” It wouldn’t be anything without him and Gabe damn well knew it. “You just hold on a week or two. See how things work out between you and Mizz ffrench.”

  Fat lot of help Gabe was.

  Rod was even more steamed when he walked back into the Rooster, ready to hash out a few details with the new owner.

  Who wasn’t there.

  Neither was Mary-Beth. Lucas, the cook, was standing in at the bar. Where the hell were they? Off doing each other’s hair? And he’d been stupid enough to think Mary-Beth was on his side.

  “Don’t look so sour, boss,” Lucas said.

  “Where the hell is Mary-Beth? She’s got two more hours of her shift.”

  “She took the new owner on the tour. Say, is she really Old Man Maddock’s granddaughter?”

  “Yes, Rod, we were wondering that.” Old Maude and her cronies swooped on him like the furies. “Is it true? And Pete left her the Rooster. How nice!”

  It wasn’t nice and it got worse. Two days later, Juliet ffrench had settled in. There was no stopping her.

  She could have stayed in the comparative comfort of Sally Jones’s B & B, or even the hunting lodge just outside town, but Miss ffrench insisted on moving in. Since the other apartments were boarded up and uninhabitable, she moved into his. After a night on the lumpy sofa, she drove into Pebble Creek, and within hours, carpet and furniture were delivered and she spent the afternoon hanging drapes and unpacking, as she staked her claim on one of the empty rooms. His final objection that there was only one functioning bathroom was met with a bland smile and the unblinking assurance not to worry, that she promised not to use his razor to shave her legs.

  A weaker man would have given up.

  Rod Carter braced for survival. He’d outlast Juliet ffrench and be a gentleman about it.

  “So, you wanted to see the books,” he said first thing the next morning. At least first thing for him. He’d worked until the bar closed.

  She was sitting at a table in the corner, drinking coffee and browsing over—off all things—paint and fabric samples.

  “Yes, please,” she replied. “It would be helpful.” Helpful for what? To elbow him out. Not a chance. Not if she stood by the terms of the old man’s will.

  “Whatya doing?” he asked as she scooped up a pile of papers and the samples and put them in a manila folder.

  “Planning some repairs. The plumbing is archaic. The bar needs redecorating. So does the entire upstairs. The bathroom needs ripping out and redoing.”

  “The place suits me just fine!”

  “I’m having an architect come and look over the entire upstairs,” she went on, as if he hadn’t said a word. “The closed-off part and the attics too. Something needs to be done about the roof.” He wouldn’t deny that but even so…“Obviously my grandfather wasn’t much on repairs.”

  Might as well reinforce that he, not the old man, ran the place. “He had a lot to take care of at the ranch and left me to run the Rooster.”

  She raised her eyebrows as she twisted her wide mouth in an odd littl
e smile. “Well, Mr. Carter, I hope you did a better job of the books than you did with the building.”

  Damn her smug little attitude! Let her try fixing the roof on a shoestring. He’d poured almost all his savings into this building, for what? To have it whipped from under him by a prissy redhead. A prissy redhead with one fantastic ass. Right, better elevate his mind a bit. His survival and sanity were on the table here. She might not be able to fire him, but she could sure get on his case and niggle him into quitting.

  No damn way! He’d follow Gabe’s advice about outlasting Mizz ffrench—and why did she spell her name that silly way? Meanwhile, he might as well enjoy the view of her long legs and swinging hips.

  The crowded office seemed dingier and messier than ever with Juliet standing in the middle of it. Her red shirt was fastened with tiny pearl buttons and tucked into her chino skirt. Even her shoes were neat—brown leather sandals with narrow straps around her slim ankles—and her toenails were polished with pearly pink lacquer.

  She was all that was cool and dignified and his office was unmitigated chaos.

  “The books, Mr. Carter?” she asked, a little smile twisting her full lips.

  Damn, he’d been ogling her toes. “Yeah, let me get the program up. It’s all on the computer. You’re okay with that?”

  “With a computer?” Her eyes gleamed even greener when she smiled. “We do have computers in the UK. I believe I can manage yours.”

  She did a lot more than “manage.” Two minutes after he had the machine booted up, she was scrolling screens, compiling reports, and printing out page after page. Mizz Juliet ffrench darn well knew her way around Quickbooks.

  “Anything in particular you’re looking for?” Rod asked. Might as well help get her out of his chair so he could get to work.

  “Right now, I really want just an overall picture of how things are. I’m sure I’ll have questions.”

  He didn’t doubt it. “Okay then, I’ll leave you to it. If you need more paper it’s under the printer.” Might as well leave and do something constructive with his day. Watching her put too many ridiculous ideas in his head. He’d always had a weakness for redheads and it seemed this one was going to herald his ruin if he wasn’t very, very careful. “See you!”

  As the door closed behind him, Juliet leaned back in the oak chair and let out a heartfelt sigh of relief. Thank the heavens he was out of her space. Getting on her nerves was far too mild for what Rod Carter did to her. Okay, he was good-looking and sexy in a rough-edged almost dangerous sort of way. All right. Who was she trying to fool? The man was bedworthy in the nth degree but his resentment of her definitely put paid to any possible attraction. He was obviously one of those macho males who hated working for a woman. Just her luck! They were as big a pain here as in London.

  So what? She had more important things to consider than Rod Carter’s ego difficulties.

  Leaving the printer chugging away—a new one would be a good purchase, for this one was close to antique—she nipped into the Rooster, gave a quick hello to Mary-Beth and Rod, and poured herself a mug of coffee before returning to the office to study the Rooster’s finances.

  Three

  “She carries on as if she owns the place!” Rod muttered to his coffee as the door swung closed behind Juliet.

  “I’ve news for you, boss, she does.” Okay, it was true but did Mary-Beth have to add the smirk to the smart-ass comment?

  “You women always stick together!” Unfair and unjust but, heck, he was feeling sour.

  “Okay, Rod, the old man did you wrong. That’s hardly her fault. She never even met him. And seems to me she’s got good plans for the old Rooster. She wants to redo the building, and fixing up the bathrooms is a major improvement, in my opinion. Will be nice to sit down without worrying about plaster dropping on my head.”

  “Redecorating!” he snapped. She would. No doubt she was putting pretty flower wallpaper in the can. They’d be having lacy curtains and pink toilet paper next.

  “About time, too,” Mary-Beth replied over her shoulder, as she went to the far end of the counter to take Gabe Rankin’s order.

  “How things going, Rod?” Gabe asked, as Mary-Beth called his order of three fried eggs, sausage, fries, and gravy to Lucas.

  Rod shrugged. “Not too bad.” That was a lie if there ever was one! “Getting things sorted out. Right now, she’s going through the books.”

  “Nothing to worry about there, lad! You kept them straight.”

  Damn shame his emotions weren’t in the same condition. “Wish I knew what the hell she had on her mind.”

  “I guess right now she just wants to check out what she has. Nice-looking girl, isn’t she?”

  The best answer he had to that was a grunt.

  By midafternoon, Rod could stand the suspense no longer. He was even debating the pros and cons of carrying in a cup of coffee to give him a reason to check up on her. He drew the line there, settling for checking on her minus coffee.

  Juliet looked up as he opened the door. She had a stack of papers in front of her, the file cabinet was open, and several folders were spread over every clear surface.

  Helped herself, didn’t she? Mary-Beth’s words echoed in his skull. Right!

  Then Juliet smiled.

  Her green eyes sparkled with an almost blue light, crinkling just a tad at the corners, and her wide mouth curled up, showing teeth that, if not perfectly straight, were white as pear blossoms. Her blouse was a little rumpled from sitting and it gaped over her breasts.

  He couldn’t quite make out the color of her bra. Pink was it?

  Sheesh! Better elevate his mind a bit.

  “Rod, glad you came in. I was about to come and look for you.”

  “Yes?” He made a point of lifting his eyebrows and not smiling more than he could help.

  “Just have a few questions.” She reached for a sheet of paper and creased her forehead as she scanned the columns. “There’s a few things that don’t quite make sense.”

  “Oh?” What was she nitpicking about? “The accountant okays the books every year for the tax returns.”

  “I noticed. The books are fine. It’s just there are some missing expenses. What about insurance and taxes?”

  “Pete Maddock covered taxes and insurance.”

  “I see.” That he doubted. “I’m also a bit mystified by your salary. You’re the lowest paid person on the staff. Even with the occasional draws from the profits and given you live rent free, it seems skewed.”

  Rod shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me.”

  “You put in a chunk of money when you took over the bar.”

  What next? His file of bank statements was sitting open on the table. Had she gone through everything? “Pretty little snoop, aren’t you?”

  She went stiff from the chest up and glared. No other word for it. “I’m checking the books. I was curious where the major influx of money came from. Your bank statements were in the filing cabinet along with the business ones. There was a notation on the business bank statement that the money came from your personal account. It seemed a large sum, so I checked.”

  “So, I invested money in the Rooster. What are you going to do about it?”

  “Pay you back, I presume.”

  Like hell she would! He crossed the crowded office, planted his hands on the desk, and leaned toward her. “I bought my share of the Rooster fair and square. You’re not buying me out!”

  Her bright eyes met his. Her frown deepened as she leaned back in the chair and thought a minute. “Tell me, Mr. Carter, what was the arrangement you had with my grandfather? ‘Manager’ doesn’t seem to cover it.”

  Since she asked…“Simple, really. I put my savings into the place, built it up—it was a real dump when I took it over. Our agreement was I’d get it profitable and keep it going and he’d leave it to me when he died!” There! He’d done it! Felt good to spew his resentment off his chest. Except for the shock on her face. Did she think she was going to los
e her precious inheritance?

  “So,” she replied, after a few seconds’ pause, “the old man was as big a liar and as worthless as his son.” Her voice was sharp enough to cut glass. Astounded at her reaction, Rod thought a minute how to reply. In the silence she muttered, “Fuck the pair of them!”

  The profanity sounded almost genteel coming in her precise accent, but the look on her face was anything but ladylike. She looked ready to cause injury. Rod almost backed off.

  “Sit down!”

  Rod wasn’t about to argue when she used that tone. He pulled up the spare chair and sat down, well beyond slugging distance, and watched her scowl.

  “So,” she began, “let me get this straight. Pete Maddock agrees that if you invest in the bar and build it up to a going concern it’s yours when he dies?”

  “Yeah!” That pretty much summed it up.

  Another thoughtful pause. “The bar or the building?”

  Good question. “I guess both. We agreed over a handshake. Heck, the rest of the building isn’t up to much. Next door has been empty for years.”

  “That doesn’t matter. This side was run down and you fixed it up. All upstairs needs is new plumbing, wiring, and a bit of redecorating. I bet next door is the same.”

  And her point was…

  She shook her head. “I wonder what the hell he thought he was doing.”

  “You mean Pete?”

  “Yes. He gets me over here with promises of money and property and, to do that, yanks the rug from under you, so to speak.” Another thoughtful scowl. “Why? Do you have any idea?”

  “Beats me, lady!”

  “I think a nice little chat with Mr. Rankin is in order.”

  “Save your breath. I went over there the afternoon you arrived. It’s all signed and sealed. Nothing can be changed.”

  “Really? Bugger them then!”

  “What do you want to do? Give me back the Rooster?” All this outrage was well and good, but how did it help him?