Читать книгу Blame It On The Cowboy - Delores Fossen - Страница 11

CHAPTER FIVE

REESE HADN’T COUNTED on being able to make this trip to the McCord Ranch so soon after seeing the twins, but she was thankful that their housekeeper Della had called and asked her to come over and discuss the party plans. It was the perfect excuse for Reese to get the information she needed about Logan and Lucky.

Well, hopefully it was.

Considering that everyone in town was talking about Logan’s fast exit from the café, it was possible that Della was going to try to pump Reese for info while Reese was pumping the woman. Either way, if this didn’t work, Reese was just going to have to come clean and admit that she did something so sleazy as have sex with a man she didn’t know. Then she could get back the watch and put this whole mess behind her.

Even if Reese’s body wasn’t letting her forget it.

Her body didn’t have a say in this, though. She’d learned the hard way that lust often drove really bad decisions, and it was obvious that sleeping with either of the McCord twins was a bad decision she couldn’t repeat.

Reese followed the crude map that Sissy Lee had made for her. It wasn’t that long of a walk, less than a half mile, and the house was so big that she could see it long before she got to it. Judging from the sheer size of it and the land surrounding it, the McCords were rich. Of course, she’d already guessed that, but this was rich-rich, and that meant either Lucky or Logan might be especially concerned about having spent the night with someone like her. If so, that could work in her favor because they could be eager to get rid of her.

Part of her wished that wasn’t the case, though.

If this had been just another ordinary town, Reese might have considered staying on longer than three months. The pay was decent, and Bert was a good boss. Shortly after he’d hired her, he’d even helped her find a place to live, temporarily. No way could Reese have managed to swing a stay at the Bluebonnet Inn on a daily basis, but Bert had talked the owner of the inn into renting her the converted attic apartment there. It wasn’t much, but then she’d never needed much, and this morning she’d learned it had a special view.

Of the McCord Cattle Brokers’ building.

She’d yet to see Logan or Lucky come and go, but from everything she’d heard, Logan only left for business trips, and Lucky was only there when he couldn’t avoid it. Or when he was checking on his twin. The buzz was that Lucky was still worried about Logan. Everyone in town was.

Logan was Spring Hill’s rock star.

And no one she’d encountered so far was taking his ex’s side in the breakup. The general consensus was that Helene should be burned at the stake for breaking poor Logan’s heart.

Reese walked up the circular drive, and as she neared the house, she caught the scent of poop. She hoped that wasn’t some kind of bad omen.

She made her way up the porch, but the door opened before she could even ring the bell. The outside of the house was so, well, pastoral looking, but that didn’t apply to the inside. The tall brunette woman in the doorway looked frazzled. With good reason. There were cats—lots of them—darting around.

Two small children, as well.

There were shouts of laughter. Plain out shouting, too, from a teenage girl on the stairs who apparently wasn’t happy about her sister using her makeup on one of the cats. Reese quickly spotted which cat. It was all white except for pink blush on its cheeks.

“I’m Reese—”

“Yes, I know. Della’s expecting you. No school today,” the woman said as if that explained everything. “I’m Cassie Weatherall. Please come in.”

Cassie as in Lucky’s soon-to-be fiancée. Reese recognized her from some TV talk shows, the sort where the host and his or her guests attempted to solve some huge problem in the span of an hour. Minus the commercials, of course. There were usually shouts and paternity test results involved.

Cassie looked around outside before she shut the door. “Where’s your car?”

“I don’t have one. I walked.”

She shook her head. “If you need to come out here again, just call the house, and someone can come and get you. Mia, don’t touch Mackenzie’s makeup again,” Cassie warned the younger girl without even pausing to take a breath.

“Sorry,” the little girl said as she flew past them. A little boy was chasing her with what appeared to be a magic wand and a chocolate-chip cookie.

The meager apology was apparently enough to get the teenager to whirl around and disappear into the hall off the top of the stairs.

“This way,” Cassie said after she shouted for the children to settle down.

Cassie might look like the prim and proper therapist, but her shout was all mom. According to the gossip Reese had heard at the diner, Cassie had fallen right into that role. Had fallen into the role of being a McCord, too. Cassie had given up her job as a celebrity therapist and had opened an office in Spring Hill. Considering the divorce rate was almost nil, the crime rate as well, it was possible she wouldn’t get a lot of business. Then again, there could be a lot of skeletons jangling in closets.

Reese didn’t mean to dodge Cassie’s gaze, but she couldn’t quite look the woman in the eye. She had no idea if Lucky had actually cheated on Cassie, but if so, it was a little stomach-turning to think that Reese could have been the other woman.

Cassie led Reese to the back of the sprawling house to an equally sprawling kitchen where a woman with pinned-up gray hair was at the stove.

“You’re here,” Della said, smiling.

But she wasn’t alone in the kitchen, and the person at the table definitely wasn’t smiling. Even though Reese couldn’t be certain, she thought this might be Logan.

“You’re late,” the man said.

Yes, Logan.

The brusque tone caused Reese to freeze. Not Della, though. The woman popped him on the shoulder with a wooden spoon. “What kind of welcome is that?” Della scolded him.

Reese suspected Della was one of the few people on the planet who could get away with that question. Or the spoon pop.

Cassie shot Logan a glare. “Reese had to walk here,” Cassie informed him.

Logan didn’t look exactly pleased with that explanation or the spoon popping. Or with Reese.

“Logan’s mad because I said I wasn’t going to ask you for references,” Della explained.

Oh.

Well, that told her loads. He was suspicious of her. Unless Logan was this careful about everyone who crossed paths with his family.

“We need to talk,” Logan told her, and he took hold of Reese’s arm.

“She’s here to go over the party,” Della protested, but she might as well have been talking to the air because Logan didn’t listen. And he was out of spoon range now.

Reese didn’t put up any resistance whatsoever. She’d come here hoping to have a private word with either Logan or Lucky, and she was apparently going to get it. Though it still didn’t mean he was the one she’d slept with. This little chat could be a warning for her to stay away from his brother. Or away from his family’s kitchen if he was truly concerned about her references.

Logan led her to the side of the house to a sunroom that overlooked one of the white-fenced pastures. Reese hadn’t smelled the poop in the main part of the house, but she certainly did back here.

“Yeah, we’re working on that,” he grumbled.

Until he said that, Reese hadn’t even been aware she was making a face. That’s because she was focused on the face Logan was making at her. Sissy Lee had said Lucky had a panty-dropping smile, but Logan must have missed out on that particular genetic trait. His abilities seemed more geared toward intimidation tactics.

“What kind of game are you playing, huh?” Logan demanded.

Since that could cover a lot of territory, Reese went with a question of her own. “What kind of game do you think I’m playing?”

Man, he was the rock star of glares, too. “What happens in San Antonio stays in San Antonio?” he tossed at her.

Bingo. So, he was the one. Part of her was relieved that he was the hot cowboy and not Lucky. At least this way Cassie wouldn’t be hurt.

“How did you find me?” he snapped.

“Your truck.”

He nodded as if no further explanation was necessary. Reese braced herself for the questions that would almost certainly follow.

Or not.

Logan inched toward her, and it didn’t appear he had question-asking on his mind. He moved close enough that Reese caught his scent. Very familiar. And as it done that night in the hotel bar, his scent slid right through her. Pretty amazing considering it wasn’t any particular scent and managed to completely erase the bull-poop odor.

For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. He moved in as if he might just do that despite the steely look in his eyes. And for a moment it might have seemed to him as if he were going to kiss her, too. His gaze dropped to her mouth before he snapped it away and met her eye to eye.

“I ran a background check on you,” he threw out there.

Of course he had. Reese wondered why she hadn’t considered it sooner. Oh, mercy. Not this, not now. Had Logan learned what had happened? She hoped not. She hated the thought of anyone knowing how stupid she’d been.

“Are you here to run some kind of con?” Logan added, and his glare didn’t ease up one bit.

So, he’d found out about that part of her past. He didn’t know about Spenser. Because if Logan knew that, he would have brought it up first.

“I’m not here to con you.” Reese was certain he wouldn’t believe her, though. And he didn’t.

Logan opened his mouth, no doubt to demand that she leave and never come back, but before he could say a word, someone yelled out, “No!” and it was followed by a loud cry.

Logan scrambled around her, running toward the sound of that cry, and when Reese caught up with him, she saw the little girl, Mia, on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. She was sobbing and holding her arm.

“Mia was chasing the cat on the stairs and fell,” Cassie explained.

Cassie wasn’t sobbing exactly, but she was crying. And looking very much like a concerned mom. So was the teenager who was coming down the steps to her sister’s aid. And the little boy she’d seen playing with Mia earlier. He also had tears in his eyes. Heck, so did Reese, she realized.

“I think it’s broked,” Mia said through the sobs.

Logan was the only one not in the crying/panic mode. He eased Mia into his arms and started toward the door. “Cassie and I’ll take her to the ER. Someone call Lucky and have him meet us there.”

“Do you need me to go with you?” Reese asked him.

“No, stay here and finish your chat with Della.”

Della took out her phone, and Cassie hurried to open the door. Logan followed Cassie out but not before looking back at Reese.

“This isn’t over,” Logan warned her.

* * *

REESE DREAMED ABOUT LOGAN. And tonight it was just as good as the real thing had been.

The kiss in the hotel bar especially.

Until that kiss Reese hadn’t been sure she could even go through with the last item on her bucket list, but that kiss had pretty much put to bed any doubts she’d had. And it had just been the start.

Logan had initiated the second kiss, in the elevator as they’d headed up to the room. In fact, the kiss had gotten so scalding hot that his hand had ended up under her top, his leg between hers, and there was a whole lot of pressure from his body pressing hers against the elevator door.

That’d been incredible until the door opened, and they’d tumbled out into the hall and landed on their butts.

The clumsiness hadn’t stopped there. Nope. They had been so busy kissing and grappling at each other that they’d banged into the wall outside her room, once with such precision that they’d nearly had accidental sex in the hall.

Even now in the dream, Reese could still feel that hunger. Hunger she hadn’t even known was there. And there were sounds that had never been in the dream before, either. Knocking sounds. It was almost as if Logan and she were having sex against the wall, after all.

Or not.

Because the dream changed. Not to sex with Logan but to another part of her life. One she didn’t want to remember. But she did.

Spenser.

It was hard to hide from memories in a dream because they chased you down, chewed you up, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

But the sound stopped it. And the sound wasn’t part of the dream this time. Definitely not Logan. That became clear when she heard someone call out her name. Her real name. Logan had only called her Julia that night. And whoever was calling out her name now was also knocking on her door.

Jimena.

For a moment, Reese thought her friend might be part of the dream, as well. She staggered out of bed and went to the door, checking the time along the way. It was close to midnight.

And it was Jimena, all right.

“Food pimp,” Jimena said, holding up several large grocery bags. She came in, looked around. Not that she had to look far to take it all in. It was only about two hundred feet of space for the kitchen, bed, sitting area and bathroom.

“Uh, what are you doing here?” Reese asked.

Not that she wasn’t happy to see her, but when Jimena had dropped Reese off in Spring Hill four days ago, Jimena had said she was heading back to Houston to see some old friends. When they’d spoken on the phone earlier that morning, Jimena hadn’t mentioned anything about a visit.

“I’m here to help you.” Jimena handed her the bags of groceries, which Reese was certain contained nothing but junk food. She closed the door, took Reese by the hand and led her to the window.

“See that guy?” Jimena asked.

There were streetlights, but it still took Reese several moments to pick through the night and see the man in the back parking lot of the McCord building. Definitely not Lucky or Logan.

“Who is he?” Reese wanted to know.

“Some guy I met at a bar in San Antonio. His name is Elrond—you know like in Lord of the Rings? His dad was a huge fan. I know, I violated my bucket rule of making my way through the alphabet. I was up to the I’s, but all the I-guys I met didn’t do anything for me. Anyway, Elrond’s a great kisser, but he’s got something even better in his jeans.”

Reese groaned. She was so not in the mood for one of Jimena’s sex spill-alls. “I have the breakfast shift at the café. I have to be at work in six hours.”

“Well, this shouldn’t take long at all.” She pointed to Elrond again. “He’s got a key to the McCord building.”

Instant suspicion.

Of course Reese had told Jimena about her Lucky/Logan dilemma, but she certainly hadn’t expected Jimena to do anything about it. Especially anything illegal.

“Did he steal the key?” Reese asked.

“No. He was doing some renovations for the McCords a while back and forgot to return the key. I figured you could use it to look for the watch while no one’s there.”

Reese was still skeptical. “And how do you know no one is there? Logan has an apartment on the top floor.”

Jimena smiled. “He’s not there tonight. Don’t you ever listen to gossip? The clerk at the gas station said Logan was in Dallas for a meeting and won’t be back until tomorrow.”

It was the first Reese was hearing of this—and yes, she did listen to gossip. Hard not to hear it in a town this small. But she hadn’t been especially listening for gossip about Logan but rather Mia. It turned out that the little girl’s arm wasn’t broken, after all, just sprained and bruised.

“You said you were anxious to get the watch and then leave town,” Jimena reminded her. “So, here’s your chance. Say, what made you so eager to leave, anyway?”

“Logan. He ran a background check on me.”

Jimena gasped. A reaction that Reese had had herself. Her past had a nasty way of coming back to haunt her. Usually she could outrun it, but this time it’d caught up with her.

“Did Logan tell your boss?” Jimena asked.

“Not yet. But he will.” If it hadn’t been for taking Mia to the ER and then this trip to Dallas, Logan probably would have already done it.

That meant tonight might be her last chance to find that watch. Bert probably wouldn’t fire her on the spot, but that was only because of his wife’s surgery. He needed her for both the breakfast and lunch shifts, but he would give Reese her walking papers as soon as he could find someone else. Or heck, maybe he would just close the café for a while.

“I don’t even know if the watch is in the McCord building,” Reese admitted.

“Elrond said Logan lives there, like all the time. Where else would he have put it?”

Maybe in the trash, but that tightened her stomach just thinking about it.

“If you find it, you won’t even have to do the breakfast shift,” Jimena said. “You can grab Tootsie Roll and ride back with me to San Antonio.”

It was past being tempting, and it wasn’t as if she had a ton of options. Now that Logan knew who she was, he might never give her back the watch because he might think she’d stolen it.

“You’re sure you can trust Elrond?” Reese asked.

“The man gives multiple orgasms. Of course I can trust him.”

There was no correlation to that, none, but Reese decided she had no choice but to risk it. She put the grocery bags on the counter, pulled on her jeans and a T-shirt and followed Jimena out to the stairs and then out of the Bluebonnet. They didn’t walk on Main Street but rather on the street behind the inn. Probably because Jimena wanted to make sure they weren’t seen.

Reese only hoped she didn’t regret this, but she already had a bad feeling about it.

When they made it to Elrond, he kissed Jimena, and they started in on a make-out session while he handed Reese the key. His aim wobbled, because he had his eyes closed while kissing, and Reese finally just snagged them. Part of her almost hoped the key didn’t work, that Logan had changed the locks.

But it worked just fine.

She slipped into the back door, the AC immediately spilling over her. The floors were marble, all shiny and cool, and even the walls had some kind of slick finish to them. The bottom floor was dark except for the base lighting around a copper and bronze sculpture of a longhorn. It was large enough to have been a real cow, and Reese dodged the lethal-looking horns as she made her way around it.

She also had to fight back a scream when something went zipping past her. Sheez. It was possibly a raccoon.

Or a very small, hyped-up guard dog.

It shot out of the reception area and disappeared. No growling sounds. No clawing sounds, either, so she hoped it wasn’t coming back for her.

Since she wasn’t sure how much time she had, Reese went straight to the hall. There were a series of offices, thank goodness with nameplates on the outside. Logan’s was all the way at the end.

And locked.

She tried the key, but it didn’t work. Sadly, she knew how to pick a lock, but she hadn’t brought the old tools of an old trade with her. Elrond probably had something that would work, but judging from the way Jimena and he had gone after each other, he probably had her on the backseat by now for another round of those multiple orgasms.

Instead, Reese went up the stairs. There were more offices here on the second floor, each door indicating the name of another person who worked for Logan and his brothers. She doubted he’d put a watch in any of these offices so she went up the final flight of stairs to the third floor.

There were double doors, wide-open, so she stepped inside.

Whoa.

Unlike her place at the Bluebonnet Inn, this loft was huge. It sprawled over the entire third floor. There were no overhead lights on, but thankfully there was enough illumination coming from the appliances in the kitchen area that she could see well enough.

And what she could see was a mess.

There were gouges in the walls as if someone had punched it multiple times. No, correction. Someone had thrown stuff at it because some of that stuff was still on the polished hardwood floors. Broken sculptures—including what appeared to be a porcelain breast of a woman. Books. Glass. Feathers. Even the remnants of a coffee table.

Had someone vandalized the place? Robbed it?

That caused her to mumble a couple of “Oh, Gods.” Because that might mean this was some kind of setup. Maybe Elrond had willingly given her the keys so she could take the blame for this.

Reese turned to run out, but she caught the movement from the corner of her eye. In case the burglar was still there, she picked up the first thing she could grab off the floor. The porcelain breast. Hardly a serious weapon, but she could hurl it at the person if he attacked, and the nipple might put out an eye.

But he didn’t attack.

He stepped from the shadows. Slowly. As if he had all the time in the world.

It was Logan.

And he was naked.

No, not naked. He was wearing boxers, but she had focused on the naked parts because they were more noticeable. He was sipping a drink, also slowly.

“Reese,” he said, his voice low and slightly dangerous.

Or maybe that was confusion in his tone because of the porcelain nippled boob she had aimed at him.

“You didn’t take this to the grave very long, did you?” Logan asked, and had another sip of his drink, clearly waiting for her answer.