Coulda Been a Cowboy

by Brenda Novak

  “None?” the detective pressed.

  “Isn’t that what no means?”

  The detective gave a bark of laughter. “Yes, sir, it does. I just find it a little hard to believe. Or is that kind of indifference common in your circle?”

  Tyson’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he struggled to retain control. “Is there a meaningful question in there somewhere?”

  Detective Donaldson spoke slowly, as if Tyson was such a stupid jock he had to spell it out. “I guess the question would be, why didn’t you have any contact with your son?”

  “Because I didn’t want any.”

  Dakota nearly groaned aloud.

  “How many other illegitimate children do you have, Mr. Garnier?”

  Tempted to intervene, Dakota opened her mouth, then told herself to stay out of it.

  “None,” Tyson said.

  “That you know of, right?”

  The muscle in Tyson’s cheek flexed again, making his jaw look hewn from stone. “Braden’s the only one,” he reiterated, his voice deceivingly calm for all Dakota sensed happening below the surface.

  “And yet you still weren’t interested in him.”

  “No.”

  “That would’ve changed,” Dakota interrupted, unable to keep silent another second. “It has changed. As Tyson said earlier, Braden’s upstairs. Tyson was just…upset at first, you know? Anybody would be upset.”

  Both men turned to stare at her, and Dakota realized she should’ve listened to the voice in her head that had been warning her to keep her mouth shut. But the detective was prejudiced against Tyson before he’d even started questioning him, and Tyson didn’t seem very good at defending himself.

  “Well, it’s true,” she said when they didn’t immediately return to their interview.

  “How long have you known Mr. Garnier?” the detective asked, smiling in a patronizing way.

  Dakota wiped her damp palms on her jeans. “A couple of weeks.”

  “A couple of weeks,” he repeated. “But I’m sure you know who he is.”

  “I’m starting to figure that out. From what I can tell so far, he’s a good man. A very good man.”

  “I’m talking about his public persona. You know he’s a professional football player, don’t you?”

  Tyson got up and moved between them. “Leave her out of this, okay?”

  Dakota merely stepped around him. “Of course.”

  “And that doesn’t influence your opinion in any way? Make you give him a little extra leeway?”

  “No. I’m not some stupid groupie who—”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Donaldson cut her off as he waved for Tyson to sit down again. “Can we finish?”

  Tyson seemed hesitant. When he caught Dakota’s eye, his face was unreadable, but he finally sat on the edge of the couch. “I didn’t rape Rachelle. That’s all that really matters, isn’t it?”

  “I’m afraid it’s not that clear-cut.”

  “What else do you need to know?”

  “What made you decide to take custody of your son? You’ve admitted that, initially, you didn’t want to see him.”

  “Rachelle wasn’t a good mother. She only wanted the baby as a way to get more money out of me. So I offered her a settlement.”

  “One million dollars.”

  “Yes,” Tyson said with a sigh.

  “Where did you first meet Ms. Rochester?”

  “She was working at a restaurant where I went to eat with some of my buddies.”

  “She was the hostess, the cook, the server?”

  “The server.”

  “Could you tell me how the relationship evolved from there?”

  After a small hesitation, Tyson finally started talking again, but in a steel-edged monotone. “After we ate that night, I went to the restroom to wash my hands. When I came out, I found her huddled in a corner of the hallway, beyond the pay phone, crying. I recognized her as our waitress, so I went over to see if she was okay.”

  “And?”

  His chest lifted as if he’d taken a deep breath. “Her girlfriend had just called to tell her that all of her belongings were sitting on the curb of the house where she’d been living with her boyfriend.”

  “Why were they on the curb?”

  “Who knows? At this point, I’m wondering if that call was part of the con.”

  “I don’t need any editorial,” Donaldson said. “Just give me the facts.”

  The anger apparent in Tyson had Dakota sitting on the edge of her own seat. “There aren’t any facts in this part of the story. Just lies, the lies she told to manipulate me.”

  Donaldson studied him. “Which were…”

  “According to her, she and her boyfriend had broken up a few weeks earlier and he’d kicked her out. Originally, he’d agreed to let her stay until she could make other arrangements. But she claimed she was having trouble doing that because she didn’t have enough money. She told me there was a spot opening up in a girlfriend’s apartment and that she needed a stopgap.”

  “What happened from there?”

  Tyson jammed a hand through his hair. “Like an idiot, I offered to pick her up when she got off work and give her a place to stay for a few days. I didn’t think there was any danger in helping her.”

  “And she accepted.”

  “Immediately.”

  The detective took a few seconds to write some more notes. “How long did she stay with you?”

  “Three weeks.”

  “You’re sure it was that long?”

  “Positive.” Tyson leaned forward. “Don’t you think it was odd that, if she didn’t want to be there, she stayed so long?”

  Donaldson’s eyebrows went up and he continued in that “I’m going to slow this down so you can grasp it” tone. “She claims she took you at your word that you’d help her out. She didn’t know she’d have to pay for your help by having sex with you. When she refused, you eventually forced the issue.” He tapped his pad of paper with the back of his pen. “That’s just as plausible, isn’t it? That’s why she moved out.”

  “That’s not true,” Tyson argued. “I kicked her out. I had to. I finally realized that she wasn’t making any other arrangements.”

  “According to you, when did the relationship turn romantic?”

  “Right away. During the first two weeks we were hot and heavy. But the more time I spent with her the more I could tell she wasn’t anyone I wanted to get involved with and began to pull away.”

  “What made you decide she wasn’t what you wanted?”

  “She was so lazy she wouldn’t even pick up after herself.” Tyson spoke as if his words were futile, but Dakota found them interesting. She knew he’d never go into so much detail if he didn’t have to. “Beyond that, she was materialistic and flirted outrageously with every guy who came to the house. And I was beginning to catch her in little lies.”

  “Like…”

  “The second day she was at my place, she told me she’d been fired because she couldn’t pull herself together after that upsetting call. I later found out it wasn’t true.”

  “How?”

  “I checked.”

  “Did you confront her?”

  “Yes. She said she lied because she couldn’t face working at that restaurant another day.”

  Donaldson turned to a fresh page and continued to write. “So you asked her to move out?”

  “Not right away. I knew she didn’t have the money. She hadn’t been working. I was leaving for a few days. I told her she could stay at my house while I was gone—and that I’d help her get her own place when I got back.”

  “Did that cause a fight?”

  “No. She suddenly calmed down and started acting normal again, and I began to make excuses for her earlier behavior. We hadn’t been together sexually for almost a week, but when she came to my room that night I didn’t turn her away. She told me she wanted to take advantage of our last chance to be together. Little did I know she was trying t
o increase her odds of creating a permanent bond between us.”

  “When did she notify you of the pregnancy?”

  “As soon as she could show me a blood test. I think she thought I’d let her move in again.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “No way. It’d been too hard to get rid of her the first time.”

  “So you…”

  “Sent her some money.”

  The detective scratched his head in what appeared to be Columbo-like feigned confusion. “Why did you give her money if there wasn’t even a baby yet?”

  “It was easier than fielding her incessant calls. When she couldn’t reach me, she’d start calling my friends. I just wanted her to stop.”

  “Why didn’t you contact the police?”

  “And tell them what?”

  “That someone was harassing you.”

  “The media harasses me all the time, and no one does anything about it. I didn’t even think about going to the police. I felt responsible for the mess I was in because I was the one who was dumb enough to invite her to my house in the first place.”

  “I see,” Donaldson said, but Dakota didn’t think he did. He seemed to be picking out words like responsible and putting more weight in them than he should.

  “Did you see her during the pregnancy?” he asked.

  “She showed up a few times, tried to kiss up to me. She even—” he glanced over at Dakota again “—never mind. I asked her to leave. Then when the baby was born, she called from the hospital. She wanted to establish paternity right away so she could start receiving support.”

  Donaldson watched Tyson from under his thick eyebrows. “You make her sound pretty bad.”

  “I’ve never met anyone like her,” Tyson said.

  The detective folded his notepad and found his feet. “Well, I think that’s it for now. I’ll call you if I have any more questions.”

  Tyson followed him to the door. “Will you be honest with me about something?”

  Donaldson paused. “I’m always honest.”

  Dakota barely refrained from making a face.

  Tyson seemed too intent on his question to react. “Am I going to need a lawyer?”

  “That’ll depend on the district attorney.”

  “But I didn’t do anything.”

  “Sorry,” the detective said with a shrug.

  “Yeah, you sound sorry,” Tyson muttered.

  The detective pivoted. “You expect me to pity a guy like you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s my job to look out for the little guy.”

  “The little guy?” Tyson snapped. “It’s your job to investigate and find the truth.”

  Donaldson moved out onto the porch, where Dakota could see only a slice of him through the crack in the door. “Don’t lecture me, Mr. Garnier. I know how to do my job. And just because you’re famous doesn’t make your word worth any more than hers.”

  “This has nothing to do with fame or anything else. Rachelle’s a known liar!”

  “She’s a woman who’s had some rough breaks.”

  “Rough breaks?”

  The detective motioned toward the exterior of the cabin. “She’s not as rich as you, now, is she?”

  “Neither are you,” Tyson replied. “And I’m beginning to wonder if that isn’t the real issue here. What, did you get cut from your high school football team or something?”

  “Tyson!” Dakota cried, but it was too late.

  “That temper’s already landed you in a lot of hot water, Mr. Garnier,” Donaldson said. “I suggest you don’t make it worse by insulting me.” The detective stood toe to toe with Tyson, but at five-eight, he fell well below Tyson’s six-four and Tyson didn’t seem the least intimidated.

  “I told you, I never did anything to her. She’s better off now than she was before she met me. She’s a million dollars richer, isn’t she? How can you feel sorry for someone like that?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?” Tyson cried.

  “On whether you were paying her to keep her mouth shut about what you did to her.”

  Tyson’s jaw dropped. “What, is she sleeping with you now?”

  “You’re not helping yourself, buddy. I hope you know that,” the detective said and stepped off the porch.

  When Tyson started after him, Dakota jumped to her feet and intercepted him. “Tyson, no!” Shoving him back, she shut the door. “What are you trying to do? Land yourself in prison?”

  “That guy’s an idiot! Did you hear what he said? How could he listen to everything I just told him and still think Rachelle’s some kind of victim?”

  “Let him go. He’s jealous.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of you!”

  Tyson didn’t seem to care. Ignoring her, he reached for the door handle, but she knocked his hand away and spread her arms and legs across the entrance. “I’m not letting you go out there.”

  “I’ve got to…do…something before I explode!” he said.

  “I know. But whatever you do, do it in here.”

  He grabbed her by the waist, as if he’d set her aside, but the moment he touched her, she grasped his chin in her hands and forced him to look at her. “Listen to me,” she whispered. “Calm down, okay? Just calm down.”

  Wearing a tortured expression, he remained resistant for a second. Then he scooped her into his arms and buried his face in her neck.

  “It’ll be okay,” she promised, and breathed a huge sigh of relief as she heard the detective’s car turn out of the drive.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Grandpa Garnier: When a cowboy gives you the key to his

  truck, you know you’re close to winning the key to his heart.

  THE ANGER AND ADRENALINE coursing through Tyson’s body at first made it almost impossible to relax. He wanted to chase down the detective and wipe that smug expression off his face. The man was enjoying his misery. It was almost as if he’d come here merely to taunt him.

  But as the seconds passed, Tyson began to breathe in the scent that lingered on Dakota’s smooth skin and feel her hands rubbing his back. She was telling him that everything would be okay, which he sincerely doubted. But when he closed his eyes and simply abandoned himself to her ministrations, nothing else seemed to matter.

  “My grandfather would’ve liked you,” he said. He wasn’t sure why he volunteered that information, but it somehow seemed important.

  The hand moving over his back stilled, then started up again. “Would have?”

  “He’s gone now.” He breathed deeper, trying to capture a portion of Dakota’s essence and pull it inside himself. Her touch suddenly seemed so healing, so vital.

  “Were you and your grandpa close?” she asked.

  A familiar pain twisted in his gut. “Yeah.”

  “What happened to him?”

  Suddenly tired, Tyson held her closer. “He had a heart attack and died. Last month.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered soothingly.

  Her sympathy sounded so sincere that Tyson’s throat tightened, even hurt, but he knew the unshed tears would never come. As a child he’d grown too adept at burying his emotions, couldn’t give in to tears now even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t. “I lived on his ranch every summer.”

  Her fingers brushed against the bare skin at his nape, found his hair and began to comb through it. “What about your parents?”

  He couldn’t resist pressing his lips to the soft skin of her neck. “My dad died when I was two. I don’t remember him.”

  “And your mother?”

  “She’s a force to be reckoned with, a strong woman.”

  “Do you see each other very often?” Her voice faltered slightly—he was pretty sure it was because his touch had changed. He was kissing her neck, climbing toward her ear.

  “Only when her business slows down and she can break away.”

  She arched her neck, and he palmed the back of her he
ad, threading his fingers through the silky mass of her hair.

  “So you get along?” she breathed.

  Completely different emotions were overtaking the outrage and upset of only seconds earlier. Tyson welcomed them, embraced them. He hadn’t felt half this good in months. “We have a cordial relationship.”

  “Cordial?” She pulled back a few inches to look questioningly into his face, and he immediately regretted starting this conversation.

  “She has difficulty expressing herself,” he explained.

  “But you know she loves you.”

  “She probably does.” He wanted Dakota back in his arms. “In her own way.”

  Confusion drew Dakota’s eyebrows together. “You said ‘probably.’”

  “Right.” He gazed down at her mouth. She was still close enough that, with a slight dip of his head, he could kiss her. But he was afraid that might break the tenuous hold he had on his restraint, so he forced himself to step away. “I’ve got to go back to California,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “I need to get an attorney.” He knew he could handle that from here—his agent could certainly be trusted to get a good lawyer—but if he stayed in Dundee much longer, he’d soon find himself in bed with his nanny.

  “I see.” There was a heartbeat of silence, then she said, “That’s probably a good idea.”

  “You’ll be okay here with Braden while I’m gone?”

  She started getting food items out of the pantry for lunch. He was quickly discovering that she was one hell of a cook. “Of course.”

  He hesitated at the periphery of the room. “Don’t go to your father’s alone. Make sure Terrance is there, or take Gabe with you.”

  “There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll leave Braden with Hannah, like before.”

  “That keeps him safe.”

  “Exactly the point.”

  “I’m asking about you.”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  Pulling his wallet from his back pocket, he moved into the room and tossed several hundred dollars on the counter. “Here’s something for gas and groceries. And…get yourself some new clothes. The ones you have are getting baggy.”

  She glanced at the money but didn’t pick it up. “It’s not your responsibility to buy me new clothes.”