Tall, Dark and Cowboy Page 11

  Chase rolled his eyes. He wasn’t about to spend any more time with Galt than he had to. The guy hated his guts.

  He was still stewing when he turned off the graded road onto the rutted two-track that had once been Galt’s driveway and jounced his way to the ramshackle trailer. He could see his neighbor sitting on a tattered old sofa on his porch, a shotgun cradled in his lap. As he stepped out of the truck, the old man lifted it to his shoulder and closed one eye to aim.

  “Don’t shoot.” Chase lifted one hand in the air and hoisted Pam’s package in the other while he prayed that the last thing he’d see in this world wouldn’t be Galt in his holey, sagging Union suit. “I come bearing meatloaf.”

  Galt lowered the gun slightly and opened his left eye. “From your sister? She make those biscuits today?”

  Chase opened the bag and peered inside. “Yep.”

  “Then I guess you can bring it on up.” He used the shotgun as a cane, hobbling into the house.

  Chase followed him inside, noticing a distinct scent of lemon Pledge and bleach as the door opened. Someone had vacuumed the carpet, and the counters were clean. Even the picture on the TV had improved; shreds of aluminum foil topped the lopsided rabbit ears, twisted into makeshift antennae. His sister really was an angel.

  Galt snatched the bag and unearthed its contents with the suppressed glee of a kid too cool for Santa opening gifts on Christmas day. He cracked the sipping slot on a Styrofoam coffee cup, releasing a torrent of rich-scented steam, then pulled out two lidded to-go plates, a bakery bag stuffed with biscuits, and a couple of smaller containers that looked like they contained some kind of dessert. Knowing Pam, it was probably pie.

  Galt shoved one of the lidded containers across the counter that divided the kitchen from the living room. “Guess that one’s yours,” he said.

  “Mine?”

  Galt nodded, picking up a plastic fork and tucking into the meatloaf and gravy like he’d just returned from an excursion with the Donner party. “Your sister said she was going to pack for both of us. She stays to make sure I eat, said you would too, but I don’t give a shit. And don’t be thinking you’re getting those biscuits. Those are mine.”

  So Pam’s excuse about the dinner rush was bullshit. She’d planned this.

  Chase watched the old man wipe his chin with the back of his hand as gravy dripped from a misplaced mouthful. It was hardly an appetizing sight. The guy finally looked up from the food when he was about three-quarters finished.

  “Eat,” he said, churning his free hand in a get-going gesture. “It’s getting cold.” His eyes narrowed as his gaze shifted to the smaller containers. “You going to want that pie?”

  “No.” Chase shoved the container toward the old man. “You can have it.” He opened up his meatloaf and started eating. “Don’t know why I’m staying. I don’t think there’s any doubt you’re going to eat.”

  He watched the old man crouch over his dinner, downing the meatloaf like a wild dog. The guy had been alone too long, and it had turned him into an ornery old cuss with no manners. Chase was probably on his way to becoming just like him.

  Maybe Pam was right that he needed to help somebody to be whole. Maybe Lacey’s arrival was a second chance at life, a new purpose. Helping Lacey, protecting her, loving her, had been his mission back in high school—a mission that had ended with that smoldering kiss the night he’d rescued her from Wade. He’d told himself that night that he’d always watch out for her. It had been a boyish, foolish promise—but hadn’t that foolish boy been a better person than the bitter, cynical man he’d become?

  Chapter 15

  Lacey woke the next morning with a headache that felt like the world’s worst hangover—but she hadn’t had a thing to drink. In fact, she hadn’t had any fun at all. She’d spent the night staring at the ceiling of the motel room, listening to Sinclair snore like a chain saw cutting through steel and wondering how she’d managed to mess up her life so badly.

  Back when she’d left Tennessee, she’d thought she was stepping into a new life. And when she’d thrown away her Walmart ring, she’d had a clear vision of what that life was all about.

  Realizing her dreams. Being on her own. She’d get a job, and then she’d get her real estate license, maybe even that marketing degree. Grady needed revitalizing even worse than Conway did. She could sell those boarded-up businesses on Main Street. The town was quaint. Adorable, really. There was an old Victorian that could be a bed-and-breakfast. They already had a great café.

  But Trent had been right. Her dreams were stupid. What did she know about real estate? About business? Here she was, thinking she could make a home in Grady, and she couldn’t even find a job.

  She squinted out the motel window, seeing the town through Trent’s eyes. He’d buy up a block or two of buildings and tear them down. Put up a trailer park. That’s all these yahoos can afford—that’s what Trent would say. There weren’t even any jobs here; she’d figured that out yesterday. Every business on Main Street seemed to be on its last shaky legs, and there was nothing but prairie dogs and bug-eyed antelope outside town for fifty miles in either direction.

  Suddenly the world beyond the Grady city limits seemed like another planet, unknown, unexplored, and unwelcoming. There wasn’t a soul she knew from here to California. Here at least she had Pam—and Chase. He might not be what she’d hoped for or expected, but at least he knew who she was, and he knew she was here. Otherwise, she was about as substantial as a speck of dandelion fluff on the wind. She could disappear, and no one would even notice.

  Grady might be the losingest town in the world, but right now, it was the closest thing she had to a home.

  Not for long, though. She had no doubt the old guy in the lobby would eventually stick a bill under her door, or accost her in the parking lot. She’d managed to avoid making eye contact with him since the day before, but if he caught up to her tonight, she’d have to pay for her stay somehow.

  Dropping into a worn captain’s chair by the room’s only window, she opened her purse and pulled out a credit card. It was silver, with sparkles like mica, and bore her name in raised letters under the account number. Her name, not Trent’s. He’d kept her on all his accounts after the divorce. He’d pretended he was being generous, but it had actually allowed him to keep on controlling her, to question her about every expense, and chide her about shopping trips and eating out.

  She’d hated that, and she hated the fact that the bribes he’d taken were paying her bills. So when she’d received a junk mailing that offered her a credit card in her own name, she’d filled it out and sent it in. Now she angled the card in the sunlight, watching the silver flecks shine. She hadn’t planned on using it. She’d parceled out her money carefully and made it to her destination with a few dollars left, but the car breaking down had ruined everything.

  She’d just pray that Wade wouldn’t have some way to trace it. As long as the bill didn’t go to the house or her old email account, she’d be safe. She just needed to change her address with the company. Then she’d have a month before the bill came due. A month to find a job.

  Picking up the receiver on the old-fashioned phone, she dialed nine for an outside line, then poked in the customer service number on the back of the card.

  “Welcome to MagiCard. Press one for English, two for Spanish,” said a smooth, canned voice.

  She ran through six or eight menus, keying in the account number and listening to her choices until she finally came to an address change option. The smooth-talking virtual operator asked her to press, or say, her new address. She glanced around. The motel was on Main Street, but what the heck was the number? She flopped across the bed and opened the nightstand drawer.

  Nothing. Places like this didn’t give out stationery with their address on it. She doubted anyone stayed long enough to write a letter. Hell, she doubted anyone stayed a whole night. It seemed like a by-the-hour kind of motel.

  “To try again, press one,” the can
ned voice urged her. “To return to main menu, press two.”

  She pressed one to buy more time and glanced across the street, searching for an address. There was nothing on the Quick Lube or the candle shop, but there were three shining gold numerals affixed to Chase’s trailer.

  “Four-twenty-three Main Street, Grady, Wyoming,” she said clearly into the phone.

  As soon as she found a place to live, she’d change it. It was the tenth of the month now, so the bill probably wouldn’t come for two weeks. She’d find a place by then—but only if she found a job.

  She hung up the phone and tucked her hands under Sinclair’s furry armpits, turning him from side to side. “Looking good, bud. Keep putting weight on and you’ll be cuddly soon, like a real dog.” Sinclair huffed out a half-bark—or maybe it was a belch—and she shrugged. “Or not. Real dogs are friendly and love their owners.”

  He might have put on weight, but his attitude hadn’t changed. His facial expression was still a comical blend of ennui and malice, with his eyes focused on the television and his lip curled into a snarl over his jutting underbite.

  “All right. Finish watching your show, and I’ll go get something to eat.” She glanced at the TV, where Dr. Phil was lecturing a heavyset man on treating his wife better. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll learn something. You and Dr. Phil even look alike.” She scrubbed her fist over his head, earning a dagger-laced stare. “You have more hair, though.”

  Food would help, she told herself on the way to the café. Food, and some female company. She needed some girl time.

  ***

  Lacey smiled when Pam slid into the booth across from her. “So how’s your brother doing?”

  “Oh, he’s the same as ever. Wish I could get Krystal away from him.”

  Annie popped up from behind her mother. She must have been in the next booth, quietly taking in their conversation. “Krystal’s a hooker,” she said.

  Lacey didn’t know if she should act shocked or laugh. Either way, it was all she could do to keep from spewing her sandwich all over the table.

  “Annie!” Pam had decided on the shock option.

  “Well, she dresses like a hooker,” Annie continued. “I think the car lot’s a front.”

  “I’m cutting off your Law & Order reruns,” Pam said.

  “No, really. Think about it,” Annie urged. “They never sell much, and the lady just sits around all day. Uncle Chase must be making money somehow.”

  “He has a ranch,” Lacey said.

  “That’s boring.” Annie sat sideways at the edge of the booth, kicking her heels. “Nothing ever happens here. I want to move to New York.”

  Pam gave her a stern look, and Annie slouched upstairs, grumbling under her breath.

  “Kid watches too much TV,” Pam said. “Wish there was more for her to do.”

  Lacey glanced up the stairs. “She still dressing up the cat?”

  “Yeah, but the cat just sits around. Wish I could afford to get her a dog.”

  Lacey thought of Sinclair back in the room and smiled. If only all her problems could solve themselves this easily.

  “Maybe she could take care of mine.”

  “You have a dog?”

  “He’s not really mine. I found him at a gas station. He’s kind of ugly, but he might look good in a Onesie.” Her smile widened, thinking of the dog’s glum expression peering out from under a baby bonnet. “She could take him while I work. Heck, she could take him, period.” She ignored the spasm of regret that pressed her chest when she thought of giving up the dog. What was that all about? She didn’t even like the animal, and she’d never really planned to keep him.

  “You think he’d put up with the whole dress-up thing?”

  Lacey thought a moment. “He’s kind of grumpy, but I think he might like the attention. We could give it a try.”

  “I couldn’t afford the vet bills.”

  “Chase would pay them,” Lacey said.

  “You know, he probably would. You want to bring him over later?” She hesitated. “Actually, I wondered if you could come over anyway. I know it’s short notice, but Cody’s going to a truck meet. I’d really like to go along, but there are a lot of rough redneck guys there, and I don’t want to bring Annie.”

  “You want me to watch her?” Lacey felt a sudden heat behind her eyes.

  “Would you mind? Do you have any plans?”

  “No, I’d love to. And it would be a good time to bring Sinclair. What time?”

  “Eight. It’s a beer and nachos kind of thing in the parking lot at Herbie’s Bar.”

  “Sounds fun.” Lacey stood and carried her dishes to the pass-through. “I’ll go walk the dog, and then I’ll be over.”

  “You could come to the next one.” Pam waggled her eyebrows. “We could double date.”

  “If I had a date.”

  “Chase,” Pam said hopefully. “I really think…”

  “Pam, I’m not going to date your brother.”

  “We’ll see,” Pam said. “He’s a good guy, and he needs you. You guys should have been together from the start.”

  Chapter 16

  Krystal was leaning against the counter when Chase returned to the trailer, her long legs crossed at the ankles while she carefully considered the state of her fingernails. She was wearing a suit that should have been irreproachably professional, but something about the cut made it look like a sexy librarian stripper costume.

  That wasn’t fair. The girl couldn’t help the way she was built. He just had a dirty mind. He pictured Lacey in the suit. The skirt was pretty short. If Lacey was wearing it, he’d hike it up and…

  What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he panting after the girl the Conway High yearbook should have named Most Likely to Break Chase Caldwell’s Heart when he had a hot number like Krystal panting after him every day at work?

  She looked up at him and smiled, obviously mistaking his appraisal of the suit for approval of its contents.

  “Tell you what. I’ll make a yummy dinner tonight, and then I’ll give you a nice back rub,” she said. “And then we’ll do something else yummy.”

  “Krystal, that’s not going to happen. I’m your boss.”

  “So?”

  “So you can’t come to my house, and you can’t give me a back rub or anything else. Besides, I thought you were going to work late tonight.”

  She pouted. “Wouldn’t you rather I come home with you?”

  Did the girl ever give up? It took two to tango, and he wasn’t even stepping onto the dance floor.

  “I’d rather sell something. We haven’t made a sales in two days.”

  “‘We.’ I like that.”

  Damn. Everything he said brought him a giant step closer to trouble with this girl.

  “There is no ‘we.’”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Well, I’ll bet I can bring the guys in. I’ll sell something for you.” She shimmied her shoulders. “If you’re not buying, I’m sure someone else will.”

  “Krystal, cut it out.” He sniffed the air and caught an acidic tang. “Have you been drinking?”

  “It’s none of your business what I do on my time off.”

  “It is if you’re drunk at work.”

  “I am not drunk.” She straightened with a suspiciously exaggerated dignity that emphasized the low cut of her suit.

  “You’d better not be. And we need to have a conversation about appropriate attire. You look like you’re ready for a night on the town, not a work shift.” He smiled, trying to lessen the sting. “We want the customers to focus on the cars, right?”

  She gave him a little-girl frowny face. “Jeb liked it when I dressed like this.”

  “Jeb’s customers were spending $19.99,” he said.

  Her face reddened. “Are you calling me low-rent?”

  “No.” He almost shouted the word, then clutched his forehead, trying to regain control. “Look, if you don’t want to work tonight, it’s okay. But I’m going home alone.”
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  She narrowed her eyes. “You sure you don’t have a dinner date?”

  “Actually, I do. I’m having dinner with Fletcher Galt.”

  Krystal’s eyes widened. “Isn’t that the guy that shot your cow?”

  “Yeah. It was a misunderstanding.”

  Actually, it was impossible to misunderstand Fletcher Galt. The guy was nothing if not direct. The night before, he’d told Chase he’d bypass the cattle and shoot him if the fence failed again.

  “So why are you hanging out with him? Are you trying to get the rest of his land or something?”

  “No. Not everyone has an ulterior motive, you know.”

  “Well, I just want to make money. If that’s unterior, I’m sorry.” She jutted out her chin and stiffened her shoulders. “I’ll stay, and I’ll show you who can sell stuff.” She jutted out her chin and stiffened her shoulders. “I can sell a lot more than oil changes. I could sell new Toyotas if you’d let me.”

  “Okay,” he said, ignoring her mention of new cars. “Good.”

  She edged closer. “You sure you’re not seeing that bimbo tonight?”

  “She’s not a bimbo, and that’s none of your business. But no, I’m not,” Chase said.

  She pouted. “I know you want to.”

  She was right. He hadn’t been thinking Lacey would ever come to the ranch, but now that the subject had come up, his mind was rifling through images of Lacey in every room of his house. Lacey in the kitchen. Lacey in the den. Lacey in the bedroom.

  Naked.

  He hated himself for it, but he really did wish he was having Lacey over.

  ***

  Cody was cleaning the grill when Chase walked into the café to pick up Galt’s dinner. He glanced through the pass-through and grinned. “You coming to the truck rally?”

  “No.” Chase headed straight for the staircase. “I’m not obsessed with that stuff like you are.”

  “There’ll be a lot of potential customers there. You could maybe talk up that Dodge.”

  “You do it for me. My sister here?”

  “She’s upstairs. She left this for you, though.” He shoved a brown paper bag through the pass-through. Judging from the scent, Chase and Galt were having hot turkey sandwiches tonight. “Hey, you oughta go to the meet, though. I think that trucker girl’s coming.”