Lone Star Hero

by Jennie Jones

  “You get that from me.”

  “And I’ll get myself out of this mess.”

  “I’ll get you out of this mess,” Momma said emphatically. “Don’t worry your cute little—”

  “You’re the one who got me into this mess.” Now there was going to be Momma’s Hopeless dot com to spread the word about crazy Molly Mackillop and her appetites. Her business didn’t stand a chance.

  “He won’t come back,” she said as her chest contracted.

  “Yes, he will.”

  “I wouldn’t if I were him.” She was so mad, she wanted to march up to eternity and punch the great-grandfathers on their noses.

  Sexual appetite? That was further from the truth than greed. How could a woman who hadn’t had much sex in the first place have an appetite?

  “What are the developers saying I’m going to do?” she asked. “Drag male clients to the hacienda, lock them in, and have my lurid way with them?”

  How was she going to keep this from Saul? “This is horrible.” Just the thought of Saul’s narrowed, piercing blue eyes throwing contempt at her instead of humor or a flare of desire, made her stomach flip in a sickly swirl. He wouldn’t come back, and she’d never be able to give him the finger again. She liked showing him her middle finger because it made him smile. He had such a paradise-filled smile, which made her feel like she’d swallowed heaven.

  Not that she should worry about any of this. She wasn’t right for him. Alice had told her from the start.

  “Nothing bad is going to come of this,” Momma said.

  It was probably too late for that pronouncement, and Molly was concerned for Saul and his reputation, not only her own.

  “What am I going to do?” she asked, agitated by thoughts of Saul’s response if he discovered this news.

  “Baby, leave it to me. I’m going to get the developers off the scent of your sexual appetite and—”

  “I don’t have a sexual appetite.” She hadn’t been given the chance. “Do the townspeople know about the newsletter and my... my... my—”

  “It’s online,” Momma said. “I can’t afford to print it yet. They know nothing about your abnormal appetites.”

  Mr. Jack and Mrs. Wynkoop and the others in Hopeless didn’t have internet. They didn’t need computers and laptops. Although Molly had been going to change all that and make two computers available in town for everybody’s use. She wouldn’t be doing that just yet... Because, you know—I have a sexual appetite.

  “Does Saul know?” she asked again, not quite able to believe her mother.

  “I didn’t tell him. Promise.”

  Thank God.

  “So what are we going to do?” It was pointless berating her mother for all this.

  She could see how innocent it looked to everybody except the developers, who’d put a terrible spin on Molly’s innocence due to Momma’s photo dupe. But they had to do something quickly, before Saul found out.

  “And by the way, I’m revoking your access to my shared photograph folder.”

  “I’ve had hundreds of email subscribers to the newsletter,” Momma said, with sudden excitement. “So I’m going to start the blog and put things right. Like I said, I’ve had dozens of hair appointments too. They’ll all want to buy cake when they’re here, and check out Davie’s artwork. So your business is already starting to help other businesses before it even gets off the ground.” Momma spread her hands in a ta-da manner, and Molly slapped a hand to her forehead.

  “The calls are still coming in,” Winnie said, with a smile Molly tried to return, but failed.

  “So you see, honey, all this is going to have a happy ending.”

  “I just can’t picture it yet.”

  “We’re looking prosperous already,” Winnie said. “And we’re going to hold a town open day. Mr. Jack is making the bunting, and Mrs. Wynkoop is going to sell her preserved apples.”

  Molly could see the crowds now, lining up to get into town.

  “We’re holding a valley meeting tomorrow night,” Momma said. “You’re to come. Bring Saul.”

  “No. He can stay home.”

  “He’ll have to come,” Winnie said. “So the valley people get to know him for the good sort he is, and not the bedroom devil they might start to picture him as.”

  Bedroom devil? Could this get any worse? “Alright. Valley meeting, here in Hopeless, tomorrow night. I’ll do my best to bring Saul.”

  “That’s the spirit, honey. Now off you go. Get cycling and make something really tasty for dinner for you and the bedroom devil—”

  “Stop calling him that.” It gave Molly too many pictures of the sexual variety than she could cope with. If any man could give a woman an appetite, it was Saul.

  “Make something from scratch,” Momma said. “Show him your cooking skills. Winnie, grab those groceries, would you, honey?”

  Winnie scurried out of the salon.

  Momma took Molly in her arms for a hug. “Hush now, baby. It’s going to be all right.”

  Molly sniffed. “Thanks for helping.” She refrained from saying Even though you started it with your damned Hopeless Herald.

  “Here,” Winnie said, thrusting a small backpack into Molly’s hands. “Fresh vegetables, meat, and your mail. I put the mail in the front pocket.”

  “Thanks, Winnie.” Molly hugged her. “Okay, off I go.” She smiled weakly at her mother and her foster aunt.

  She’d let Momma handle the newsletter and the blog, because Momma wouldn’t do anything to intentionally hurt anyone, especially her only daughter. Molly would go home, clean the hacienda kitchen, and cook a meal from scratch, and when Saul came home—if he returned—she’d be sweet as honeysuckle and try to persuade him to drive with her into town tomorrow night for the meeting, so the valley people could see for themselves how good and generous, and kindhearted he was, and how rational, calm, and certain Molly Mackillop could be when she was in a slight pickle.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Molly sat at the counter in the hacienda kitchen, her cell pressed to her ear as she waited for Pepper to join the conference call. Neither Lauren nor Molly spoke. It was a rule that no one said anything or told any gossip or parted with any news until all three cousins were on the call.

  She turned her head to check the stove, and inhaled the aroma of ribs and barbeque sauce that she’d made from scratch. She couldn’t beat the Hopeless sponge, so for dessert she’d made peanut butter cookies. He could eat those all day tomorrow, too, while they worked on the roof. He’d have his gear, and his construction calculator, and they’d be getting on with it. If he came home. Back. This wasn’t his home.

  “I’m here,” Pepper said. “Do I need chocolate?”

  “I thought you had the developers under control, Molly,” Lauren said, heading straight into the conversation now all three were on the line.

  “Not quite.” Molly filled them in. It took minutes, but apart from the odd gasp or conciliatory murmur, her cousins remained silent as they listened—until Molly told them about her appetite.

  “Slime,” Lauren said.

  “Pure scum,” Pepper agreed. “Everybody knows you haven’t had sex in years.”

  “Not proper sex,” Lauren added.

  “Who are these people?”

  Molly sighed. There wasn’t time to explain about Leo D’Pee, Ty “Slick” Wilson, or Bob Smith now. Her cousins simply knew them as ‘the developers’ or Donaldsons. “Slime and scum,” Molly said in response. “So are you both going to help?”

  “You mean—come back?”

  “Look,” Lauren said. “We all know you’re the one for the job, Molly.”

  “And you’re already there...”

  “That’s not the point,” Molly insisted.

  “What’s this builder like?” Lauren asked, changing the subject. “I can’t find the newsletter online.”

  “Momma took it down while she builds her blog, which she says is going to fix everything.”

  “Wha
t does he look like,” Pepper asked, “if the whole world thinks you’re having karma tantric hot sex with him all day long?”

  “Oh, you know—the usual builder type. Full of himself. A know-all who thinks he’s the boss.”

  “Eeeww,” Pepper said. “I hate those kind of builders.”

  “He’s constantly dirty and dusty and he uses his clothes to wipe sweat off himself.”

  “Eeeww.”

  “And he’s got a stalking woman in his life who says she’s pregnant.”

  “By him?”

  “He says not.”

  “Scumbag. Bet it was him.”

  Enthusiasm flowed through Molly’s veins. “From the first moment I saw him, I knew he’d be trouble. For all I know, he’s got a dumped ex-wife and six kids back home in Colarodo. Of course I hate him!”

  Silence.

  “Liar,” Lauren stated. “He’s hot and you want your hands all over him.”

  “Photo, please!”

  Damn, it was hard having cousins who knew each other so well they knew what the others were feeling. Or when they were lying.

  Molly plugged her flash drive into her laptop and emailed them the hot Saul photos. “Do not give these photos to anyone else.”

  “Oh, good Lord,” Lauren said. “I might come back after all.”

  “Does he fancy you?”

  “Has he made a pass yet?”

  “I’m not right for him.”

  “He said that?”

  “Alice said that.”

  “Oh.” Molly heard the pity in Lauren’s voice.

  “We’re sorry, Molly.”

  “Thanks, Pepper. I’ve got over it.” Sort of.

  “You’ll find someone else, Molly.”

  Molly rested her chin in her hand. She hadn’t wanted someone else and now there was possibly only one someone else, and she wasn’t right for him.

  “I bet the grandmothers are saying it’s the curse,” Pepper said, and Molly pictured her hand shaking as she reached for another of her handmade chocolates. They all hated talking about the curse.

  “It’s got a lot to answer for,” Lauren agreed, with a tremor in her voice. “You know the saying—fate keeps happening—I hope it isn’t true.”

  At this rate, if fate kept happening this fast, they’d be barren, husband-less, and homeless before they took their next breath. Or Molly would be. Her cousins hadn’t been forced into returning to the valley, but they understood Molly’s predicament, and that she’d had no choice. It was just that Molly understood her cousins’ predicament equally well. There was no way they’d come home. In case the curse got them. Like it appeared to be doing with Molly.

  “What do you want us to do?” Lauren asked.

  “Except come home,” Pepper added. “I’m staying in Arizona. I’m not setting a foot in that valley—I might never get out again. Look what’s happened to you.”

  Exactly. Molly had met a man she was falling for, whether she wanted to or not, and he wasn’t right for her. He’d leave. As all the Mackillop women’s men had left.

  “I can’t come home either, Molly,” Lauren said quietly. “I’ve got a few things to tie up and rid myself of here in California. I’m sorry.”

  It would be the problems with her business partner that Lauren was tying up. The problems she was refusing to talk about. “Don’t worry, either of you. I can cope.” Women who were making a stand always coped.

  “That’s the spirit.”

  “Just be careful how you use any spirit,” Pepper added. “It might be psychic abilities filtering into your system—you are stuck there surrounded by them, after all. You’re not used to having the gift and I don’t want to wake up tomorrow suddenly turned into a frog.”

  “I don’t have a gift,” Molly insisted. “Otherwise I’d have turned the developers into spawn.”

  “Molly,” Lauren said, sounding concerned on a different level suddenly. “The grandmothers. They’re not talking about me and Pepper are they?”

  “Like, as in wanting us to—visit?” Pepper added, sounding wary about having asked.

  “No,” Molly said, resolutely. There was no point in mentioning that both Alice and Momma had said something about it not being their “time.” “I’ve got this covered. I just need to talk to you now and again. To make sure I’m doing the right thing.”

  There was a silence as each of her cousins digested this news, no doubt grateful, which made Molly feel a little proud of what she was attempting to do, all on her lonesome.

  “We’re thinking of you,” Lauren said. “Call if there’s more news. I’m going to fully stock my wine fridge first thing tomorrow.”

  “We’re here for you,” Pepper added. “And I’ve got so much handmade chocolate in my pantry I might turn into a hippopotamus any minute. But don’t count that as a wish!”

  Molly said goodbye to her cousins and turned to look at the sparkling hacienda kitchen.

  How long until Saul returned? If he returned, he should be back any time. So what to do now? Pace the kitchen? Reclean the countertops? It was almost dark so she’d lit all her lovely candles and switched off the fluorescents. It was peaceful, and possibly a bit too romantic. Would Saul see it as romantic? It was only candlelight in a kitchen that didn’t have a roof. He’d see it as sensible. Being sensible herself, she’d left the outdoor lights on for him. If he came home. Back! If he came back.

  She spun on her stool, suddenly remembering that Winnie had put her mail into the backpack. Not that Molly was expecting anything except junk.

  She pulled out two letters. One offered her the chance to win a million dollars, which she tore in half, then picked up the other letter.

  It had a certain I’m a bill look. Molly frowned and ripped it open. How could it be a bill? She’d sorted everything out. She didn’t owe anyone a dime.

  Saul ducked as he drove beneath the crumbling arch. It had taken hours to get hold of the shady guy who had the key to the lockup where Saul had stored his gear, and he was tired and wanted to get... He sighed. He’d nearly thought “home.” That would be Marie’s fault, telling him she’d send Molly home with cake.

  “Molly’s home,” he murmured, pulling the pickup and trailer to a halt outside the hacienda. “Not yours, buddy.”

  The lights burned from around the back, so Molly must be in the kitchen, eating one of her ready-meals. Saul was suddenly grateful she had those dinners. He was starving and almost brain-dead after the day he’d had.

  He’d made arrangements for a crane to be delivered the day after tomorrow. He hadn’t bothered buying a new sat hone. He’d done nothing wrong and he wasn’t hiding from anything or anyone—except perhaps his sister. He’d called Sally-Opal’s detective daddy and explained the situation. Not that he listened, but Saul had tried. He’d told the man he didn’t have a paternity case unless Sally did a pregnancy test. If it was positive, he still didn’t have a paternity case unless a DNA test happened in nine months’ time, and that he still wouldn’t have a paternity case, period, because Saul hadn’t slept with his daughter or had any intention of sleeping with her. Daddy had taken offense to that part—but tough shit, Daddy.

  He’d thought about calling his sister too, in case Sally-Opal went through with her threat to tell Karlie about the pregnancy and Saul’s supposed abandonment. But he’d thought better of it. He’d refused to listen to his sister’s apology two years ago. He understood her hurts, but he’d gone through his own agonizing time. She still had her family—Saul didn’t.

  He locked the pickup, pocketed the keys, and made his way to the back of the hacienda, taking steady strides over the crazy-paving in the dim light. As he walked beneath an arch, next to the stone steps that led to the top story, a chill swept through him, as though he’d been showered in ice-cold water—then a crumbling noise overhead made him look up.

  He ducked, skirted to his right and pressed against the wall of the steps as a section of stone and plaster from the single-story crashed to the ground
beside his boots.

  He stared at it, unable to move for a moment. He’d checked and double-checked all masonry. There were no cracks, no broken pits of plaster. There were hardly any flaws on the stucco on the interior walls either, yet here was a two-foot-wide section of the roofless wall, lying at his feet. If he hadn’t sidestepped so quickly, he would have been lying beneath it.

  He looked up again and saw a glaring space in the exterior wall of the roofless section. How the hell could he have missed that?

  There was no way he’d allow Molly up on the roof area again. Not until he’d triple-checked it once more.

  It was too dark to clear the rubble now, so he made for the kitchen. If he discovered she’d been up on that roof today, he’d strangle her.

  When he pushed open the door and stepped into the kitchen, three things hit him at once. The soft lighting from candles, the aroma of something incredible coming from the stove, and Molly, standing by the counter, dressed in faded jeans and a sleeveless Hawaii-print shirt, tied at the waist and exposing the flesh above her hips, which looked soft and inviting enough to have him hold his breath. Except the look on her face sent a spear of worry directly to the center of his heart.

  “Molly? What’s wrong?”

  Her fern-green eyes were filled with pain, her face pale, bereft of its healthy glow.

  She shook the letter she was holding. “I’m so angry.”

  Then she burst into tears.

  Saul strode across the kitchen and took her in his arms. He pulled her close, so close that her trembling pounded through his body. “Molly. What is it? Are you hurt?” He couldn’t hold her any tighter without squashing her, but he wanted to crush the trembling out of her.

  Her hand moved between them, stuck to his chest, and he heard the paper crumple as she gripped the letter harder, but he didn’t let her go. He couldn’t let her go. “Tell me what’s happened,” he begged.

  “My ex-fiancé—”

  That jab hit him in his chest again. “You have an ex-fiancé?” He’d promised Marie he wouldn’t say anything about their conversation earlier. And he’d promised himself he really didn’t want to know the details.