Читать книгу Those Texas Nights - Delores Fossen, Delores Fossen - Страница 11

CHAPTER THREE

CLAY PULLED TO a stop in the circular drive that fronted the Granger ranch. To say he was dreading this visit was like saying it got a little bit hot in Texas during the summer.

This was his first trip here, but he’d driven past the place plenty of times. Hard to miss it with the sprawling house, sprawling pastures and miles of white fence. It looked the way he wanted his own place to look one day. Scaled down, of course, and with a real house with stuff in places where stuff belonged.

He was betting the Grangers didn’t have a toilet in their living room.

Clay got out of his truck, taking his time and hoping this went better than the scenarios playing out in his mind. Of course, there weren’t any good scenarios in this situation except that maybe Sophie had already moved on with her life and didn’t give a rat’s ass about anything.

He certainly did, and in Sophie’s and his case, they had a rat in common.

Brantley.

Sophie needed to know that Brantley had proposed to April. That didn’t mean the marriage was going to happen. For Clay, this qualified as one of those “over my dead body” situations. Brantley was only a month out of a long-term relationship with Sophie. A relationship he’d apparently ended because of some “love at first sight” shit with April.

Yeah, definitely over Clay’s dead body.

He made his way up the porch steps but before he could ring the doorbell, Clay heard something he didn’t want to hear. It sounded as if someone was crying. He went to the end of the porch and looked in the side yard and spotted the crier.

Sophie.

She was standing beneath a massive oak while she brushed down a bay mare. A tabby cat was coiling around her legs. No wedding dress today. She was wearing jeans and a white top. But like the day of the failed wedding, tears were streaming down her face.

Hell.

That wouldn’t make this visit any easier, and he got out his handkerchief and went to her. She must have heard him coming because when he was still several yards away, her head snapped up, and she immediately started wiping away the tears with the back of her hand. He spooked the cat, too, because it jetted out of there as if Clay had scalded it.

“Don’t tell Garrett,” Sophie said, moving away from the horse.

He handed her the handkerchief. “Don’t tell him what?”

She motioned toward her face. “He feels I should be over this by now, that my ex isn’t worth the tears.”

He’s not.

But Clay kept that to himself for now.

“It’s stupid,” she went on. Since she didn’t ask him why he was there, it was obvious that Sophie had some things she wanted to get off her chest. “I’m over him. I really am. And I hate him. But sometimes, things close in around me like a dark cloud, you know?”

He did know. Clay had a dark cloud of his own. One even darker than Sophie’s.

She looked at him then, her gaze connecting with his. He glanced away but not before practically getting lost in those deep blue eyes. The color of a fancy stone in an equally fancy ring.

The color of her eyes.

Until he’d seen Sophie’s, Clay had been sure there’d been only one pair of eyes like that. He’d been wrong.

“I went to the old gypsy lady who lives in the trailer just up the road,” Sophie continued. “You know about her?”

Clay nodded, made sure he didn’t make direct eye contact with Sophie. The woman’s name was Vita Banchini. She was a local legend, like Big Foot, except she supposedly doled out curses and love potions. She was also Clay’s nearest neighbor.

“Vita’s my best friend’s mom,” Sophie went on. “Mila. But if you see Mila, don’t mention I went there. Don’t mention you saw me crying, either.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Besides, he doubted Mila and he would ever have a conversation about anything, especially this. The few times he’d seen Mila at the bookstore she owned, she hadn’t spoken a word to him. Rumor had it that she was the town’s thirty-year-old virgin.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I had Vita read my palm.” Sophie groaned softly. “And she said it was over between me and my ex—that I needed to look elsewhere for the future I’ve been planning. That tells you how crazy I am to do something like that. I don’t even believe in fortune-tellers.”

She must have taken his grunt as a conversational green light because she kept talking. “Today would have been our one-month wedding anniversary. If the wedding had actually happened, that is. On top of everything else, it just got to me.”

Clay grunted again. If he kept this up, she’d think he had indigestion. Maybe social anxiety, too, what with him not actually looking her directly in the eyes.

“How is everything else?” he risked asking.

Sophie opened her mouth, maybe to give a polite “fine” answer, but it must have stuck in her throat. “I’ve avoided going into town. Gossip.” She hadn’t needed to clarify that. “And I’ve banned anyone on the property from saying my ex’s name.”

Which meant she probably hadn’t heard the news about Brantley and April’s engagement. Their temporary engagement, that is.

Clay wasn’t sure why he felt the need to come and tell her in person. This certainly wasn’t a police matter, and after the date debacle at the station, Sophie likely wanted to avoid him as much as her ex.

Or not.

That wasn’t exactly a get-lost gesture she was giving him, and just as she’d done in the police station a month ago, she launched herself into his arms. “Play along, please,” she whispered.

Clay glanced around to see what had put her up to this and soon spotted the source. Her cousin, Lawson. The lanky cowboy was making a beeline toward them. Clay knew him, of course, and vice versa. Knew plenty of gossip, too, and not just what he’d heard from Mick. Lots of people were concerned that Lawson would feel pushed out of the place he’d worked. He’d made his home in Wrangler’s Creek as well, since he and his girlfriend lived in a house just up the street from the police department.

“Chief McKinnon,” Lawson said. “Or I guess that’s still interim chief?”

“It is, but call me Clay.” They exchanged nodded greetings despite the fact that Sophie still had her arms around him.

Sophie finally stepped back, but she stayed right by Clay’s side. “My allergies are bothering me again,” she told her cousin. No doubt to explain the red eyes.

Lawson shook his head. “Bullshit. But as your older male cousin, I have a genetic responsibility to ask if the bawling is about the numb nuts whose name we’re not allowed to mention or if Clay is responsible.”

Since Lawson said Clay’s name as if he were an incurable toenail fungus, it was possible he believed the latter. Or maybe this was just more of his obligatory genetic responsibility. If so, that was good, because it meant Lawson wasn’t harboring any ill feelings about Sophie’s return to the ranch.

Of course, there was another possibility.

Even though Sophie hadn’t been into town to hear the gossip, Lawson likely had been, and Lawson’s stink eye was possibly for the part Clay had in this relationship mess. Not that Clay actually had a part in it, but maybe Sophie’s cousin thought he was guilty by genetic association.

“It’s about the numb nuts,” Sophie admitted. “But don’t tell Garrett.”

Lawson made a locked motion over his mouth and shifted his attention to Clay. “Did you really get attacked by chickens?”

Hell. Was that going to follow him around for the rest of his life? “Feral chickens,” Clay corrected.

Sophie shifted her attention to him, too. “The Penningtons didn’t take those hens with them when they sold the place?”

“No.” Clay could say that with absolute certainty. They were there and in the attack mode whenever they saw him. Something he’d never admit. His manhood had already taken a nosedive because of the little bastards.

“Heard, too, that you were renovating the place,” Lawson went on.

Yet another pride-reducing topic that Clay wanted to avoid. He settled for a nod.

“When you’re done with your visit,” Lawson said to Sophie, “Garrett wants to see you. He’s in the barn right now, but he needs to go over some business stuff. Heads up, though—he’s not in a good mood. Paperwork,” he added.

Sophie made a sound of agreement. “Garrett hates paperwork,” she explained to Clay. “Actually, he hates anything that requires a desk. And pens. Computers, too.”

Strange, considering Garrett was the CEO of a business. But in a way, that didn’t really surprise Clay. The few times he’d seen Sophie’s brother, Garrett had looked more like a ranch hand than the boss. Plus, even before their financial mess, Garrett had actually spent plenty of time here. Unlike Sophie.

“Take your time before you see Garrett,” Lawson went on. “Get your allergies under control first.”

She nodded. Huffed.

“By business stuff he means cows,” Sophie said when Lawson strolled away. “Lawson normally runs the day-to-day operation of the ranch, but things are far from normal right now. Apparently, we’re buying a big herd of cows with money from our trust funds. Long story,” she grumbled.

From what Clay had heard it wasn’t that long. Sophie and Garrett needed an income, and the ranch would provide that if they worked it as it should be worked, that is. A ranch meant livestock. While it was a subject that interested him, he’d already wasted enough time on small talk and catching up. Best to go ahead and tell Sophie the reason for his visit.

However, once again she spoke before he could say anything. “I owe you two apologies. One for the hug a month ago and another for the one I just gave you.”

He lifted his shoulder. “No apology needed, but FYI, I don’t think the hugs are convincing anyone that we’re together.”

“Probably not.” She glanced up at him. “But thank you for coming out here to check on me. After the fool I made of myself, I figured you’d want to keep your distance.”

He did want that but not for the reasons Sophie was thinking. “You didn’t make a fool of yourself,” he said, and maybe that would help with what he had to say next. “You know I have a sister, right?”

She looked at him. Clearly puzzled. Probably because she didn’t have a clue what a fool and his sister had in common.

A lot.

Sophie nodded. “April. She moved to Wrangler’s Creek a couple of years ago when she married Spike Devereaux, and she works at the Curl-Up and Dye Salon.”

“She still works there, but Spike and she got a divorce.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Fresh tears sprang to her eyes, maybe because it reminded her that her own marriage hadn’t worked out. “Didn’t they have kids?”

Clay nodded. “Twin boys. They’re two years old.”

And he felt another punch in his gut. Something that he’d been feeling since April had shown up at his house the day before with the news. His nephews were the main reason he’d moved to Wrangler’s Creek, so he could make sure they weren’t getting jacked around.

Clay had failed big-time.

And he was failing now, too, because he just couldn’t think of how to tell Sophie what he didn’t especially want to tell her. He opened his mouth to blurt it out when her phone buzzed. She yanked it from her jeans pocket and grumbled something he didn’t catch when she looked at the screen.

“I’m sorry, but I have to take this. Roman,” she greeted the moment she hit the button to answer it.

Her other brother. The one with a police record. Judging from the fact that he hadn’t come to his only sister’s wedding, Clay figured it wasn’t much of a stretch to say their relationship was strained.

And one-sided.

Other than her greeting, she didn’t manage to say anything. Clay was close enough to hear the chattering on the other end, but he couldn’t hear what her brother was saying. Whatever it was though, it clearly didn’t please her because her forehead bunched up.

She stepped away from Clay, maybe to give herself some privacy, and she even glanced at him to see if he was staying. He was. That caused her to put a little more distance between them.

“I really would like you home right now,” she said to her brother. “At least for a little while.”

Clay decided it was a good time to stroll toward the back to get a better look at the place. Unfortunately, the breeze didn’t cooperate because it sent the sound of Sophie’s voice right at him.

“All of that happened years ago,” Sophie argued. “Garrett and I need you here if for no other reason than to sign all these papers.” She paused. “You can’t give us the ranch—you know that. You know the terms of Daddy’s will as well as I do, and you can’t give or sell it to anyone. It’s yours until you die.”

Clay walked even farther away. Apparently, Sophie was getting hit on several fronts, and Clay had heard at least some of the story with Roman. From the bits and pieces he’d heard, it wasn’t the first time they’d argued about the terms of their father’s will. Whatever the problem was, it was big enough for Roman to stay away.

“No, I don’t want you to kill Brantley for me,” she continued. She shot a look at Clay, who tried to pretend he hadn’t heard what she’d just said. “Don’t even joke about something like that... Of course, you’re joking. And no, the ranch won’t fit up that particular cavity of Brantley’s body. Just consider coming home. Please.”

Sophie finished her call, and she joined him at the corral fence. “Sorry about that. My brother. Another long story.”

Clay hated to get in the middle of this, but there seemed to be an obvious solution. “Roman lives in San Antonio. Less than an hour from Wrangler’s Creek. Since he doesn’t want to be here, maybe you could hire someone to courier the paperwork back and forth?”

She nodded. “That works when he’s home, but he’s on the road a lot for his rodeo business. By choice. He’s got people who can travel for him, but he likes doing that himself.” Sophie took in a quick breath. “Now, what were we talking about before we got on the subject of my brother?”

Clay didn’t get a chance to say because they were interrupted for a third time when someone called out her name. It wasn’t a voice that Clay immediately recognized, but Sophie apparently did. Her shoulders snapped back, and she caught on to Clay’s arm.

“Oh, God. It’s Brantley.”

Shit.

This was about to get ugly. Well, unless Brantley had had a change of heart and was here to grovel at Sophie’s feet. Even then it could still get ugly.

“Clay,” Brantley said, extending his hand for him to shake.

Clay tried not to break his fingers. All right, he didn’t try that hard, and it felt a little too good to see the man wince.

Still wincing and wiggling his fingers after Clay let go, Brantley volleyed glances between them. “So, you told her, I guess?”

Clay had to shake his head. “Not yet,” he said at the same moment that Sophie asked, “Tell me what?”

Clay debated what to do. The news should come from Brantley, but he honestly hadn’t expected the guy to show up and do this face-to-face. Maybe he did have some balls after all.

Good. Because it would give Clay something to bust.

For now, though, he had to tell Sophie the news that would likely make her cry again. Not here in front of them. But as soon as she could get somewhere private, she would.

“Brantley proposed to my sister,” Clay said.

Clay gave her a moment to let that sink in. Sophie’s mouth was slightly open, and her stare was fixed on him.

“My sister said yes,” Clay went on, “but I’ve asked her to reconsider.”

Truth be told, he’d demanded it. Because there was no way she should be getting involved with a man like Brantley, especially this soon after her divorce.

Still no reaction from Sophie. Damn. She might be going into shock.

“Did you hear me?” Clay asked her. “Brantley and my sister are engaged.”

Brantley shook his head. “Actually, we’re not.”

Thank the Lord and anybody else who’d had a part in this. April and Brantley had come to their senses and called off this nonsense. Clay didn’t whoop for joy, but he would later. For now, it was time to get out of there so Sophie and this clown could perhaps work out a reconciliation. Even though Sophie deserved a hell of a lot better.

“Are you engaged or not?” Sophie asked Brantley just as Clay turned to leave.

“No.”

There was something in Brantley’s one-word answer that had Clay stopping in his tracks, and he turned around just in time to see Brantley reaching out to Sophie. Except he wasn’t reaching. He was extending his left hand.

To show her the ring he was wearing.

“Not engaged,” Brantley clarified. “April and I are married.”