by Joanna Wayne
Her eyes shot daggers at him. “You mean why don’t I give up and go back to telling teenage girls how to dump a loser. Is that all you think I’m capable of, Tyler?”
“I never said that. But you’re starting with basically no experience in this type of work. You can surely find an easier case than this to prove yourself.”
Her hands flew to her hips. “I worked the New Orleans investigation.”
She might be short on experience, but she for damn sure had no scarcity in the fire and passion departments. He was sure those were admirable traits in a reporter. But that might not be enough to keep her alive.
“What’s so important about this case?” he demanded. “Tell me why some woman who was killed eighteen years ago in a rural area in the Texas Hill Country is worth risking your life over?”
“Muriel Frost may be a nobody in the eyes of lots of people, but she was a living, breathing human and she deserves justice. I started this, Tyler, and I will finish it. But I can leave this ranch now if this is inconveniencing you.”
“Are you going to bring that up every time we have a disagreement?”
“Settle down, you two,” Troy said. “You’re not solving anything this way. Tyler, why don’t you take Julie to see that new colt we checked out a few minutes ago? Your momma used to say there was nothing like a new baby or a just-born colt to put things in perspective.”
His mother. How dare Troy talk about her like…
Like she’d mattered to him. Like he’d loved her.
How dare he? Unless he really was innocent.
“I’ve never seen a newborn colt,” Julie said, backing away from the fury that had driven her only seconds before. “And I could use some perspective and time to cool down.”
Tyler needed to escape this room and the tension that was exploding inside his skull. “Then let’s get out of here.” He reached over and took Julie’s hand in his.
Hers was cold, or else his was too warm. The hunger for her stirred deep inside him as they fell into step beside one another and took the worn path to the horse barn.
He wondered how long he’d be able to fight the attraction that grew stronger with every touch. And wondered how in hell he could get this turned on by a woman he had to fight so hard just to keep her safe.
FOR JULIE, IT WAS LOVE AT first sight. She perched on the bottom slat and leaned over the half door for a better look at the spindly legged colt with the deep brown eyes. Its coat was soft brown with specks of white on its nose and legs. The mother stood over it and kept a wary eye on the strangers who’d invaded her space.
“It’s adorable. Does it have a name yet?”
“Yes. Guinevere. Dylan said Collette had the name picked out for weeks—just in case it was female.”
“I love it. And you look like royalty, don’t you, Guinie? You have such beautiful eyes,” she cooed.
Tyler reached over and gave the watchful new mother some soothing strokes. “You’ve got a beautiful baby, Lady. Heard she came into the world fighting.”
The gentle mare stepped closer and nestled her nose against Tyler’s shirt. Julie stepped back.
“Have you been around horses much?” Tyler asked.
“Never. This is as close as I’ve ever been to one except for when the police rode them for crowd control during Mardi Gras. I stayed well out of their way.”
“We should go riding while you’re here.”
“Me, on top of one of those gigantic creatures? I don’t think so.”
“You’d like riding once you got the hang of it.”
“Maybe, but I have no plans to find out.”
“You’re not afraid of death threats, but you’re terrified of going horseback riding. You stamp around a house full of rats and scorpions, but you panic over a few longhorn cattle trying to get to the greener grass on the other side of the fence. You’re a hard one to figure, Julie Gillespie.”
“Let’s not talk about murder in here,” she said. “It spoils the atmosphere.”
She leaned against an empty stall and soaked up the sounds and smells, as unfamiliar to her as the streets of Mustang Run had been. The odors were pungent—hay, horseflesh, leather from the adjoining tack room.
The sounds were strange, as well. Restless pawing of hooves on the hard earth beneath the hay. Breathy snorts. Arrhythmic neighs and whinnies. The whispery swish of luxurious tails.
The peculiarities wrapped around her, transporting her to a mystical place where life felt safe and secure, even for the animals. Only it hadn’t been safe on this ranch for Helene Ledger. And not for Tyler, either. It must have been horrifying for him to be ripped from this peaceful environment and separated from all the people he loved.
She studied his profile, marveling at his masculinity and the way he looked so natural in this setting. Looks were deceiving. When he was with Troy, the air crackled with tension.
Yet Tyler must have hoped to find some common ground between them when he’d come home to Mustang Run. She hesitated to bring up his past when she hated her own. But they were alone now and she found herself wanting to know and understand everything about him.
“How old were you when your mother died?” she asked.
“Not died. Murdered.” He stepped away from the stall where Guinevere had started sucking at her mother’s teat. “I was eight.”
“It must have been a devastating time for you, losing both parents and your brothers.”
“How did you know I was separated from my brothers?”
“Eve mentioned it the other night.”
“I didn’t quite lose all the family. I had Aunt Sibley.” Tyler turned to face her and propped his right foot behind him, hooking the heel of his boot on one of the slats.
“Is she the one who raised you?”
“Yep, she was the unlucky one who had to take on the rambunctious eight-year-old.”
“What was it like adjusting to a new life in an unfamiliar environment?”
Tyler shrugged. “It was life. She cooked and cleaned. I went to school. She took me to the doctor when I was sick and saw that I had everything I needed. She wasn’t big on buying toys or letting me have friends over. What about you?”
“I was spoiled rotten. No siblings, and my parents doted on me.” Odd how the lie felt bitter this time when normally she didn’t give it a thought. She pulled her arms tight as if the scars and bruises from so long ago would swell and fester again if she exposed them to honesty.
“Did you ride horses when you were growing up?” she asked, changing the subject back to Tyler.
“No. I didn’t start riding again until I went to college.”
“In Texas?”
“In Bowling Green, Kentucky. I grew up just north of there, after leaving here. The grandfather of one of the guys in my college fraternity had a few horses and we went there about once a month and rode when we weren’t hanging out at the lake. I guess it kind of sparked my appreciation of wide open spaces.”
“Did you ever think of taking up ranching yourself?”
“I considered it.”
“Instead you joined the army.”
He turned back to the nursing colt and she took that to mean she’d pushed the questioning too far. She went over and stood beside him, not so close they touched, but close enough that the warmth and thrill of him closed in around her.
“The army seemed safer than coming back to Texas,” he admitted.
His voice was hoarse, almost distant, but he reached over and let his fingers tangle in her hair. When she looked up, their eyes met. Desire vibrated through her. She couldn’t swallow. Her legs grew weak.
“I was afraid that if I came back here, the past would claim my future.”
“It will anyway, if you let it, Tyler. You can never give it that power.”
He lowered his lips to hers. A thousand emotions came to life at once, churning inside her until she felt as if she were drowning in marshmallow-like clouds. She sucked in the elation as if it were the only t
hing keeping her alive. When he pulled away, she had to reach for the stall door to keep from losing her balance.
“We should go,” she said and then hated that he might take that to mean she didn’t like the kiss.
“Is that what you want?”
No, what she wanted was to lie down in the hay with him and make love until all the reasons she shouldn’t were erased from her mind. But making love would only complicate the investigation. And falling for a man who’d be out of her life in a few days would break her heart.
“It’s probably best—for now,” she whispered.
Unless he kissed her again, and all her ability to reason melted like chocolate in a hot car.
He didn’t. By the time they reached the house, he’d grown distant. She couldn’t compete with the issues that separated him from his father.
“IT’S SHERIFF GRAYSON,” Candice said, holding her hand over the phone’s mike. “He says it’s urgent.”
Guy groaned inwardly. When wasn’t it urgent with that pompous blowhard? He picked up the martini he’d just poured, extra dry and dirty, the way he liked it, before taking the phone from his wife.
“Evening, Grayson. I suppose you have a very good reason for bothering me at home.”
“I wouldn’t call if I didn’t.”
That was a matter for debate, had Guy been in the mood to start an argument.
“We could have trouble,” Grayson said.
“There is no we.”
“Best hear me out before you go jumping to that conclusion.”
“Okay. What is it you want now?”
“You had trespassers today out at the old farmhouse.”
Guy’s corporation owned hundreds of houses, some rural, some in town. Nonetheless, he knew exactly which house the sheriff was referring to.
“More addicts?” Guy asked. “If so, arrest them or let them burn the damn place down. I don’t really care.”
“Burning the house down might not be such a bad idea. Wouldn’t advise it now, though. It wasn’t addicts out there today. It was a reporter and some macho-acting cowboy from over Mustang Run way that she’s hooked up with.”
Guy gulped down half the drink. “Who was the reporter?”
“No one you’ve ever heard of. Name’s Julie Gillespie. She was writing fluff for the Times-Picayune until about four months ago. She accidentally got dragged into some big sex scandal and now she fancies herself as legitimate.”
“And the cowboy?”
“Tyler Ledger.”
“Surely not one of Troy Ledger’s sons.”
“Afraid so.”
Guy finished the drink. “So this inexperienced reporter has enlisted the son of a killer to help her investigate the Frost case.”
“Yep. Told you that she has no clue what she’s doing. But don’t worry. I can handle her. She won’t stick around long.”
Arrogant bastard. Had Guy known years ago that Caleb Grayson was as incompetent as he was crooked, he could have saved himself a lot of trouble and money.
“Make sure you handle this, Grayson. One slipup and there will be hell to pay—on both our parts.”
“No one knows that better than me, Mr. Cameron.”
Grayson rattled on a few more minutes, but Guy had quit listening to his jabber. It didn’t matter. Either Grayson took care of the situation or Guy would. It was probably better if he did it himself.
When he finished the conversation, he fixed himself another martini. Then he walked back into the den. Candice was on the white sofa they’d had shipped from France. The caftan she was wearing was of the finest silk.
Candice wasn’t beautiful, had never been, but surprisingly, she’d improved with age. Or with money.
She lowered the gossip magazine she was reading and slid the diamond-studded reading glasses down her nose. “What did Sheriff Grayson want this time?”
“Just to tell me that there were crack addicts hanging out at the old farmhouse again.”
“They’re probably the only people not convinced the house is haunted and they don’t pay rent. You still have it insured, don’t you? It would be just our luck to have one of them fall through that rotting attic window and then sue us for damages.”
“We have plenty of insurance and you can’t really complain about our luck, Candice.”
“I guess not. Thomas called today. He’s decided not to go to Florida for spring break.”
“Did he say why?”
“He’s going to the Hamptons to meet Cecelia’s parents.”
Pangs of regret mixed with pleasure. He liked Cecelia and her family, but Guy hated to think he might lose his only son to the northeast. He’d been afraid of that when Thomas got accepted at Princeton, but he’d gone along with what Thomas wanted.
What was the use of making money if you couldn’t squander it on your only son?
“Meet the parents weekend. That should be interesting,” he said, and then let the subject drop.
Love and marriage. Those had been two of Guy’s biggest mistakes in life. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be that way for Thomas.
THE THREE OF THEM HAD DINNER at the kitchen table, a homemade chicken potpie that Troy said a friend had brought over that day. Women bringing casseroles was the traditional form of Southern courting among the middle-aged set, Julie had teased.
“Works for me,” Troy said. “As long as they don’t start setting two plates at the table while they’re here.”
Tyler didn’t participate in the teasing. Even if it hadn’t been about Troy and other women, he couldn’t have joined in. He felt boxed in when Troy was around. There were too many lines he couldn’t cross. Too many subjects he couldn’t discuss. Too much bitterness bubbling just below the surface of the forced cordiality.
When he’d made the decision to come back to the ranch, he’d thought the emotions of the past were far behind him and that his resentment toward Troy had hardened over like dried cement. He figured he could just size up the situation and see if he had any desire to fit into this “new” Ledger family. He fully expected that he wouldn’t.
But now that he was here, the tension between him and the man he’d once idolized was impenetrable. It would remain that way unless Tyler reached the point where he was actually convinced Troy was innocent of killing Tyler’s mother. He didn’t see how that could happen when merely talking to Troy made him feel like a traitor to his mother, to his dead grandparents and even to acidic Aunt Sibley.
The only thing keeping Tyler at Willow Creek Ranch was Julie. She was the sunshine in what would have been nothing but storm clouds from dawn to dusk. Only now that he’d kissed her, he had no clear sense of where things should go from here. He had nothing to offer but protection, and Julie didn’t seem to want that.
Yet, the kiss had been practically climactic, and a kiss like that required two parties who were feeling a lot more than the wind blowing.
The sound of an approaching car engine interrupted his thoughts and the banter between Troy and Julie.
“Are either of you expecting anyone?” Troy asked.
When they said no, Troy stood and walked into the living room so he could see who’d stopped in front of the house.
“It’s just Bob Adkins,” Troy said, once he’d checked. “I figured he’d be coming around to see you.”
“Bob Adkins? Isn’t that the man whose fence Julie plowed into?”
“That’s the one.”
“Then he’s probably here to see me,” Julie said, “wanting payment for damages.”
“Money to reset a fence post? Never. Not Bob. He’s more likely to apologize for sticking it your way.”
“Go with him,” Julie insisted of Tyler after Troy walked out of the kitchen to let Bob in. “You two visit in the living room. I’ll make a pot of decaf coffee and clean off the table.”
Tyler stood and started gathering plates. “Wouldn’t you rather have me help you?”
“I don’t need help.” She took the plates from him with one hand
and gave him a shove with the other. “Now, go.”
“Well, look at you,” Bob said when Tyler joined them. “You turned into a man since I seen you last. And I hear you’re in the army, serving in the Middle East.”
“Yes, sir.” Tyler extended a hand.
Bob ignored it and gave him a couple solid pats on the back in a kind of half hug. “Your momma would be real proud of you.”
If she were alive.
“Bob bought us some venison sausage,” Troy said, holding up a package swathed in freezer wrap.
“I figured you might enjoy a meal you can’t get in the mess hall.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Yeah, it’s real thoughtful of you to bring it by,” Troy said.
“No trouble. Ruby Nelle’s after me to get the freezer cleaned out anyway. Says she has to make room for her peaches and all them purple hull peas she’s gonna make me shell this summer.”
“How’s she doing?” Troy asked.
“Doing good, ’cept for the arthritis. Not that a few pains will keep her from making me dance at the festival come Thursday. You two are going, aren’t you?”
“Tyler might. I seriously doubt I’ll make it,” Troy said.
“You might want to reconsider, if for nothing else than to see the local politicians putting on their show. I guess you heard about State Senator Foley.”
Troy set the package of venison on the mantel. “Can’t say that I have. What’s he done now?”
“He announced he’s running for governor.”
“That’s odd. Ruthanne dropped off a chicken potpie this afternoon and she didn’t mention it.”
“You better watch that woman,” Troy said. “She’s so full of herself, she can’t eat but one meal a day.”
“Who’s Ruthanne?” Tyler asked.
“The senator’s ex-wife,” Bob said. “Now she’s busy keeping Austin plastic surgeons rich.”
“Ruthanne was one of your mother’s best friends,” Troy added for Tyler’s benefit.
“Yet she testified against Troy at his trial.”
Tyler hadn’t noticed that Julie had stepped into the family room until she got his attention with that comment. Now everyone had turned her way.
“You can’t really hold that against Ruthanne,” Troy said. “She just jumped on the bandwagon with everybody else.”