The Wedding Gift (Colorado Billionaires Book 7)

by Regina Duke

  He popped open the Pepsi he’d taken out of the refrigerator and took a drink. Maybe he should touch base with Austin before he did anything else. His brother had lived in Eagle’s Toe for over a year now. Surely, he would be able to provide the name of a local lawyer.

  He took a long drink and drained the can. Having a plan filled him with energy. Of course, the Pepsi’s sugar probably helped, too. He gravitated to the window again, trying to get his bearings. He had GPS in the car, but he always wanted to know the lay of the land. Even the night before in that cramped little motel room, he had used the compass on his phone to figure out north and south. Before he could sleep, he needed to know which way pointed home. The October sun was setting, so he should be able to figure directions just by looking out the window.

  By the time he retired for the evening, he was feeling a lot friendlier toward his environment. The bed was comfy, there were chocolates on his pillow, and he found a channel playing action movies. Somewhere in the middle of “Die Hard,” his mind began suggesting he could find the woman he needed hanging from a bed sheet out the hotel window. Just as he was about to save her, she lost her grip and landed in the parking lot below. As she fell, her face transformed into the criminal who fell to his death at the end of the movie, only in Clayton’s version, the body landed hard, smashing his father’s Mercedes. He jerked awake, threw off the covers, and stumbled to the window.

  No, the car was fine. He ran a hand through his hair and returned to the bed. Good grief, would his father consider his planned deception to be a crime? He turned off the TV and struggled to get comfortable in his bed of guilt.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Monday

  Kenzie was amazed at how easily the farm chores came back to her. The one thing she’d forgotten was that a wise woman takes her shower after the barn chores, not before. At least her new job was at Taylor’s Feed and Grain, so she hoped nobody would have a problem with the odors that clung to her. She climbed into her dad's old flatbed truck and turned the key.

  For a moment, she thought it wasn’t going to start. But at last, the engine coughed and sputtered and came to life. It didn’t sound too healthy, but at least it was running. It had been a while since she drove a stick. However, this was the truck she learned to drive in so it wasn’t difficult for her at all. She backed it up, turned it around, and groaned as the stick shift screeched from one gear to another. But she was in forward motion, and she was headed off for a new job and hopefully, a new life.

  The flatbed ran steadily all the way to the Feed and Grain. Once there, Kenzie realized there was no room to park the truck in front of the store. She hoped that Mr. McAvoy wouldn’t mind if she borrowed a spot in his lot. She turned into the Cattleman’s parking lot and squeezed the truck into a space made for a much thinner vehicle. When she turned off the key she listened to the engine die and realized it was not a normal sound. Part of her wanted to pretend she hadn’t noticed anything wrong. Part of her wanted to get out of that flatbed and head to the Feed and Grain and start her workday. But the realist in her forced her to turn the key to see if the engine would start again. Nothing. Whatever that flatbed had left, it had spent it getting her into town. If she wanted to get home again that afternoon, she was going to have to call someone to fix the truck. Nothing was going to be easy. That was becoming very clear.

  She yanked the key out of the ignition, shoved the door open, and jumped to the ground without using the step. She remembered to reach back for her purse, then she slammed the truck door, glanced left and right for traffic, and jogged across the street to the Feed and Grain. She would have to call the garage first thing.

  When she opened the door to the Feed and Grain, a bell tinkled overhead, and she looked up at the wall clock. Five minutes after ten. Not a great start. And of course with her luck, her new boss was already there and probably had been for several hours.

  Taylor Garrison’s voice came from somewhere amongst the shelving. “Kenzie? Is that you? Good morning.” A moment later, her face appeared at the end of a row of flytraps. Kenzie tried to catch her breath as she hustled behind the counter and stowed her purse underneath the cash register.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Garrison. Sorry I’m late. Not a good way to start my first day.”

  Taylor came up the aisle, wiping her hands on her jeans. “It’s dusty back there,” she said. “I’ll have to talk to Cody about that. From the sound of your voice I would guess that you’ve already had a little drama this morning.”

  Kenzie did a double take. “Your hair is blue!”

  Taylor ran a hand through her fresh bob. “The salon finally got my color in. You saw my natural pale blond when you interviewed. But this is the real me. When you’re five feet tall, you have to do something to keep from being overlooked. Now, what happened to you this morning?”

  Kenzie drooped all over as she confessed, “I took a few minutes to try and get the pig poop off my shoes, and then I discovered that my dad’s flatbed truck has a top speed of forty miles an hour. On top of that, I think it just breathed its last in the Cattleman’s parking lot. I hope you don’t mind, but I have to call the garage and have someone come over and take care of that truck before I leave today at four.” She glanced at the clock. “Sorry. Four-ten.”

  “Go ahead and call,” said Taylor. “I keep the number for the Eagle’s Toe Garage by the phone. Our delivery truck needs a lot of attention. When you’re done, come back and find me, and I’ll give you a tour of the stockroom.”

  “Thanks. I will.”

  After explaining her problem to the friendly fellow at the Eagle’s Toe Garage, Kenzie went looking for Taylor and spotted her blue hair through the shelving. “You’re right about the hair color. It makes you stand out.”

  Taylor smiled. “When I first came to town, everyone thought I was nuts for having blue hair. What’s the story with the Garage?”

  “Some guy named Brady said he would come over as soon as he could, but I shouldn’t expect him before two o’clock. I hope he can jerry-rig something to get me home.”

  “Brady Felton can fix almost anything,” said Taylor. She cocked her head to one side. “What happened to that red Mustang you were driving?”

  Kenzie felt her color rising. She sent her gaze up and down the aisle, as if an answer might be waiting somewhere. At last, she mumbled, “Car trouble.”

  “It’s not running either?”

  “You could say that, yes.”

  Taylor put her hand on the stockroom door knob. “Hopefully, your luck will turn soon,” she said. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to Cody and show you the lay of the land.”

  * * *

  Clayton slept until noon. He didn’t have anywhere to be, and he realized as he reached for his phone that he had set it to “do not disturb.” There were three missed calls from his father, so in retrospect he decided he’d made the right decision. The temptation to turn over and go back to sleep was huge. But if he did that, he knew it would make him feel like the playboy loser his father said he was. That thought forced him out of bed.

  He took a quick shower and got dressed. Because he had taken the Mercedes and gone to Colorado on impulse, he hadn’t packed any clothing. He had to put on the same thing he’d arrived in, and he was beginning to worry that by doing so he had negated his shower. At the top of his list of things to do was find a place to pick up some clothing. Maybe his father was right. Maybe he was a total dingbat.

  The text messages on his phone, however, told a different story. With his brother Dallas working for the family in China, Clayton had realized after leaving Latin America that he would need to travel even further if he wanted to see him. His visit to China had changed his life in a big way. His brother translated for him as they toured the country. One of the things he found especially tragic was the number of orphans who were abandoned because their parents either could not afford them or already had as many children as the government would allow. Many of those babies were girls, who were being ra
ised by foster families while waiting to be adopted. Some remained in orphanages, where resources were lacking. The plight of those children touched his heart. Before leaving China, he’d had his brother help him set up a special account so he could send funds to the orphanages nearest the family offices.

  Ever since returning to the states, he had been sending a healthy portion of his monthly allowance to assist orphanages in China. With his brother working and living there, he knew that the use of his money would be overseen by Dallas. The text messages that had come in overnight included a thank you in broken English from the director of one of his beneficiary orphanages and three photographs of some of the children the money was helping. He had sworn his brother to secrecy. There was no point in explaining his charity to his father. It was better to let him think that Clayton regularly blew his monthly allotment on pretty girls and gambling in Las Vegas.

  The irony of his recent trip to Las Vegas was that for once he actually had splurged and used some of his money to gamble. He’d kept telling himself that if he won, he could send a double donation to China. Unfortunately, no one told the casino or the roulette wheel of his plan. They did not care anything about children in China.

  He had heard his father say hundreds of times over the course of his life that it was enough to take care of one's own. No one could help everyone in the world who needed it, and the Masters money was better used for business investments so that it could grow and increase and provide paying jobs for those less fortunate. Clayton would never call his father a tightwad, and Plano was certainly generous when it came to bonuses and gifts for those who worked for him. But Clayton knew in his heart that Plano would not understand the need he felt to send thousands of dollars a month to children he did not even know.

  He sent a quick response to the manager of the orphanage and thanked her for the pictures. He couldn't help but smile every time he looked at them. There was also a text from his brother, filling him in on the various purchases that had been made with his donation.

  After he finished attending to his text messages it was nearly one o’clock and he still had not figured out where he was going to buy a couple pairs of jeans and some T-shirts. He stopped at the front desk in the hotel lobby, where a jolly fellow with enormous eyebrows and a gap in his teeth directed him to head up the street on the east end of the parking lot and look for Mina’s Boutique at the end of the block.

  “No offense,” he said, “but I was hoping to find a place that sounds a little more manly.”

  “Well, if you don’t find what you need there, you can try the Feed and Grain across the street, but only if you’re looking for farmer’s overalls and sturdy boots.” He reached across the counter to shake Clayton’s hand. “I’m Reese McAvoy. I own the Cattleman’s Inn. Your brother Austin is a fine young man. I hope the room is all right.”

  Clayton’s arm was nearly bounced out of its socket, as McAvoy pumped his hand the whole time he was talking.

  Clayton pulled his hand back as diplomatically as possible and used it to toss McAvoy a mock salute. “The room is excellent,” he said, “and thanks for the information. I’ll head straight down to the Boutique. Wish me luck.”

  McAvoy grinned and nodded, then picked up a phone and began punching numbers.

  Clayton headed outside. The sun was doing its best to warm the October day, but a slight breeze coming off the mountains to the west made it feel colder than it looked. He shoved his hands in his pockets and strode up the street. By the time he reached Mina’s Boutique, a motherly figure with a long gray braid and an ankle-length green plaid skirt was holding the door open.

  “Hello! You must be Clayton. I’m Mina. Come on in.”

  “Is there a hidden network of surveillance cameras following my every move?”

  “Nope. Just a phone line. Reese McAvoy is married to my cousin, Alice Kate.” She beamed a multi-megawatt smile. “Lost your suitcase, eh?”

  Clayton shrugged. It was as good a story as any. “You might say that.” He stepped inside and his hopes faltered. “I’m not really the kind of guy who wears lace and heels.”

  Mina laughed. “In that case, you’ll want to do your shopping in our men’s department. Follow me.”

  The boutique was doing a brisk business, and the smell of fresh coffee and warm cookies made his mouth water.

  Mina led him through a rough wooden door in the northwest corner of the shop, where the atmosphere changed completely. No lace or high heels here. “Now tell me,” said Mina, “are you into trying things on, or do you know what sizes you wear?”

  Half an hour later, Clayton was headed back to the hotel with an assortment of jeans, slacks, tees, shirts, and underwear. He made a note to come back for a jacket if it got any colder. Or maybe he’d try the Feed and Grain and see what the local males were decked out in.

  Once in his room, he called down for a burger and fries, then changed out of his funky travel clothes and dressed from the skin out in clean boxers, new jeans, a navy tee, and a thick corduroy shirt. He’d forgotten socks and made a mental note to get new ones as soon as he could. Meanwhile, he slipped back into his running shoes—perfect for a man running away—and sat at the table by the window to eat his lunch. So far, so good. He was more or less incognito, even though his dad had made a few tries at reaching him by phone.

  He was tempted to call him back just to see if he’d noticed the Mercedes was gone. Would he be furious? Angry enough to put a freeze on his allowance? Or maybe send some of his more talented detectives out on his trail?

  His heart froze as he spotted a tow truck cruising the parking lot. Had his father noticed his switcheroo and somehow figured out where he’d gone? Was that tow truck driver looking for a black Mercedes? He burst out of his room and punched the call button for the elevator. When the doors did not open immediately, he pushed through the stairwell door and pounded down the concrete steps. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do once he reached the parking lot, but he needed that car.

  * * *

  It was two-thirty before Brady showed up with his tow truck. Kenzie caught sight of him through the front window of the Feed and Grain. “Mrs. Garrison? I need to run over and talk to the tow truck driver.”

  “We’re practically the same age. Please call me Taylor.”

  “Thanks.” Kenzie flashed a grim smile. “I won’t be long.”

  “If he can’t fix your truck by four, I’ll ask Cody to drive you home.”

  That cheered Kenzie up a bit. She’d concentrated on learning the ins and outs of the retail feed and grain business and hadn’t shared much with Taylor. But then, it was her first day, and she already had enough trouble, darn that old truck. No point in letting her new boss think she was a chatterbox. She grabbed her coat and shoved her arms in the sleeves on her way out the door.

  Once she reached the parking lot, she waved at Brady. He must have come to Eagle’s Toe after she went away to college because he didn’t look familiar to her. But he was handsome as could be—she spotted the glint of a ring on his left hand— and yep, he was married.

  She was almost close enough to speak to him when a brash and angry blond man nearly knocked her over in his haste to reach the door of the tow truck.

  “Whatever they’re paying you,” he said, “I’ll double it. Just pretend you didn’t see it.”

  Brady cocked his head to one side. “Didn’t see what?”

  “That’s the idea,” said the Nordic negotiator. “Now how much?” He pulled out his wallet and started counting cash.

  Kenzie gawked at the man. What nerve! He just butted in without giving her a glance. “Hey, Jerk Face. You nearly knocked me down.”

  “Sorry,” he said brusquely, finally acknowledging her existence. Once he looked at her, he had to look again, and his eyes lingered for a moment. At last, he said, “Jerk Face is my father. My name’s Clayton. My apologies, ma’am.” He turned back to the tow truck driver. “Well? How much?”

  Brady narrowed his eyes and t
hought for a moment. “Two hundred.”

  Clayton counted out twenties and handed them over. “They weren’t paying you much.”

  Brady shrugged. “I didn’t actually haul it away yet.”

  “Sounds fair,” said Clayton. “Thanks a bunch.” He gave Kenzie another look, one filled with interest and a tinge of regret, then hunched against the October breeze and headed back to the lobby of the Cattleman’s Inn.

  Kenzie’s mouth hung open.

  Brady got out of his cab and tipped his cap to her. “Hello. You must be Kenzie. You called about your dad’s old flatbed, right?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “I spotted it already. I’ve worked on it a few times before. You go on back to the Feed and Grain. When do you get off?”

  “Four.”

  “Plenty of time. I’m Brady Felton. I inherited the garage from my uncle.” He held out a hand and Kenzie shook it. “I’ll work my magic on the flatbed right here in the lot. Key?”

  Kenzie fished it out of her pocket. “That’s real nice of you. Umm, if you don’t mind, I’m going to need an estimate before you do much. This is my first day at work, so I’m short on cash.”

  Brady held the two hundred dollars aloft. “Don’t worry. I think Mr. Jerk Face covered it.” He winked at her.

  “You know him?”

  “Nope. Don’t care to, either. But if he’s giving away money, I’m happy to put it to good use. When you get home, give my regards to your folks. I’ll leave the key on the seat. If anything really serious is wrong, I’ll text you.”

  “Thank you, Brady. I really appreciate this.” She gave him her cell number. “I’ll be sure to tell my folks.” She hummed a little tune as she crossed the street to Taylor’s Feed and Grain. As she hung up her coat and returned to the cash register, she felt like her luck was improving. What a nice thing for Brady to do! Then she remembered her phone was turned off. She dug it out of her purse and powered it up. As soon as it was able, it pinged six times. She rolled her eyes. Todd. She glanced at the most recent text. Mentally, she edited out the expletives and name calling. It all boiled down to one question.