Chasing Trouble in Texas

by Delores Fossen

  Well, right-ish, anyway.

  There was still the guilt. Still the part of him that would always feel married to Zoey. But the other parts of him were totally on board with moving on and seeing where things could go with McCall. He’d asked her to give them a chance. Now, he was telling himself to do the same thing.

  Austin grabbed a box of condoms from the shelf. Then grabbed two. Then three. Obviously, his dick was pushing these particular purchases, but he was going with the notion of being prepared in case one date led to another. Then another and another.

  Of course, dates didn’t equal sex, but Austin thought McCall and he were on the same page about that, too. And if not, then he’d just consider this a boost to the local economy. He was carrying the boxes to the register when Austin saw something that had his knees locking up and his stomach pitching.

  Howie.

  Sonofabitch. The man was at the magazine rack, his back to Austin, so Austin just stayed put, hoping that Howie wouldn’t turn around.

  He turned around.

  Their gazes collided, and while Austin was damn sure there was a guilty gleam in his own eyes, there was guilt all over Howie’s face, too. Austin looked down at the magazine Howie had in his grip, and he expected to see a copy of a nudie magazine. But it was a copy of Needlepoint Monthly.

  Howie glanced at the boxes of condoms. Austin glanced at the magazine. The seconds crawled by, and Austin tried to figure out what was going on here. If the magazine was for Edith, there’d be no need for Howie to come to the Pump and Ride. It was something he could likely buy at the grocery store in Lone Star Ridge. That meant the magazine was for this hard-nosed rich rancher who probably didn’t consider needlepoint an acceptable hobby.

  Howie gave him a crisp nod and hurried to the cashier.

  Just as the door opened, and Boo came in.

  Both Howie and Austin groaned. Boo did, too, and then she huffed along with throwing her hands up in the air in a frustrated gesture. She stormed past Howie and Austin, and while Howie was checking out as if his pants had suddenly caught fire, Boo went to the back of the small store. A few seconds later, she came back with a box of tampons.

  “I don’t want to buy them in Lone Star Ridge because people will know my business,” she grumbled, eyeing the condoms.

  “I don’t want to buy them in Lone Star Ridge because people will know my business,” Austin repeated.

  She nodded, made a sound of agreement. “I don’t like people looking at me funny.”

  Boo’s hair was like an orange volcano erupting on her head. It was nearly the same color as her lipstick and nail polish, both of which didn’t outshine the neon pink gym shorts and top she was wearing. Austin didn’t want to tell her that in a small ranching town, people were already looking at her funny.

  “McCall told me that she was going out with you,” Boo added a moment later, her gaze sliding down to the condoms. “I won’t mention those.”

  “I appreciate that.” The quantity would either scare McCall off or make him seem like a horny braggart. “How is McCall?” he asked.

  “Fine.” Boo said it so fast that it made Austin wonder if it was really true. “I was in Dallas earlier in the week. Taking care of some business,” she added in a mumble. “But I think she enjoyed spending time with her grandmother.”

  Yeah, McCall probably had enjoyed that, but there was something... “What’s tit rouge?” he came out and asked.

  Boo looked at him as if he’d hit her on the head with a hammer. “Makeup,” she said with a squeak, and after several moments of hesitation, “And I really gotta go.” She hurried toward the counter but then turned around. “Be nice to McCall, okay? She’s a good person, and I don’t want her hurt.”

  Since that last part seemed genuine and hadn’t been said to insult him or deflect him from her half-assed tit rouge answer, Austin nodded. He had no intention of hurting McCall, but then again, good intentions didn’t always lead to the best.

  He paid for the condoms, got a grin and thumbs-up from the acne-faced clerk and Austin started the drive back to his house. He’d have at least two hours to work with some new horses he’d bought. Then he could pick up the girls from preschool. Kinsley, his fifteen-year-old half sister, and his mom, Lenore, would be coming over to give the twins a cookie-baking lesson. Austin would have to work for part of the time they were there, but it’d give him a chance to catch up.

  Especially with Kinsley.

  His most recent half sibling had found out she was a Jameson less than two months ago, and she was still settling into the family. Ironically, his mother was at the top of the list of those who were helping with the settling.

  Austin wasn’t sure how Lenore managed to do it, but she genuinely cared about her cheating ex-husband’s “love children” who continued to show up at the family ranch that Shaw now ran. The first had been Leyton, and while most women would have resented the proof of her husband’s cheating, Lenore had ended up adopting Leyton after his birth mother had abandoned him. Austin thought she might end up doing the same to Kinsley. Unless Shaw and Sunny adopted her first, that is.

  All thoughts of that, however, went to the back burner when Austin pulled into his driveway and saw the sleek black Range Rover parked in front of his house. He hadn’t been expecting company, but it could be someone on business.

  In this case, the person was on his porch. A man in one of the wicker chairs. He had his long, jeans-clad legs stretched out in front of him, his arms folded over his chest and a black Stetson covering his face. The guy looked as if he was taking a nap.

  Since he didn’t want to meet a guest while carrying a plastic bag filled with boxes of condoms, Austin left it in his truck and walked to the porch. “Can I help you?” Austin asked, and for one bad moment, he thought this might be Cody Joe.

  Nope.

  Yawning, the man sat up, automatically sliding his hat back on his head, and he stood, then stretched. It’d been a while since he’d seen him, but Austin had no trouble recognizing McCall’s brother.

  Hayes Dalton.

  He wasn’t the absolute last person on earth Austin had expected to see, but it was close.

  “Austin,” Hayes greeted.

  His voice was a mix of gravel and smoke—a combination that apparently served him well in his badass role on a TV series called Outlaw Rebels about a motorcycle gang. His looks had no doubt done some serving well, too, since he had a “been there, done that” vibe with his messy black hair and sleepy blue eyes.

  “Sorry I didn’t call first, but I didn’t have your number,” Hayes said. “We need to talk.”

  Austin didn’t bother keeping the profanity to himself or under his breath. “This is about McCall?”

  Hell. He hadn’t expected her brother to get in on warning him not to hurt McCall, the way that Boo just had. But Austin immediately rethought that. From what he’d heard, Hayes didn’t have a lot to do with any of his sisters. That included Hadley even though both Hayes and she lived in Hollywood.

  “It’s about McCall,” Hayes verified. “We have a problem.”

  Austin cursed again, but he also got a buzz. “Does this have anything to do with tit rouge?”

  Obviously, it didn’t—if Hayes’s bunched-up forehead and frown were any indication. “Uh, no. At least, I don’t think so. What the hell is tit rouge, anyway?”

  Austin waved that off since he wasn’t sure he had the answer, either. “What problem do we have?”

  Dragging in a heavy breath, Hayes keyed in the password on his phone. “I want us to work this out, and I don’t want you taking it out on my sister.”

  That was as puzzling as tit rouge. “Rumor has it that you don’t give a damn about much other than yourself.”

  “True,” Hayes admitted. “But I give a small damn about my sisters, and because I do, you and I are going to fix this.”


  Hayes turned his phone in Austin’s direction. There was a photo on the screen, and even though Austin took a moment to look at it, he shook his head, not sure what he was seeing. Then it hit him.

  Oh, shit.

  CHAPTER TEN

  MCCALL PACED ACROSS her bedroom while she listened to her client, Mrs. Clara Eidelman, talk about her cat, Ol’ Blue Eyes. McCall liked cats, didn’t usually mind hearing about them, but for the past six months, it had been the sole topic of conversation between Clara and her.

  “Frank just loves it when I dangle yarn in front of him,” the woman continued. “And he really likes it when I play music from his namesake, Frank Sinatra.”

  McCall knew that, too, because Clara brought it up every conversation. “Mrs. Eidelman, if you don’t have any issues you want to work through, then maybe you should consider taking a break from therapy.”

  That was also something McCall brought up every conversation, and she’d long since stopped charging the woman for these sessions.

  “But I do love talking to you,” Clara assured her. “It’s nice to be able to talk to someone who loves cats as much as I do.”

  “Yes, that is nice to find someone with shared interests.” Again, it was a repeat of what she usually said, but today, McCall added to that. “For instance, maybe someone there at Peaceful Acres Retirement Village? Maybe Mr. Bolton?”

  Clara made a hmmp sound. “He’s only interested in s-e-x.” And yes, the woman spelled it out. “I know the women who put out around here, and I don’t want to be one of them.”

  McCall could understand that, but she didn’t think Mr. Bolton would press for sex unless it was offered. Plus, it might help him if he did find a friend who was interested in something other than falling into bed with him.

  “If not Mr. Bolton, then maybe someone else?” McCall threw out there.

  “There’s nobody here who loves Ol’ Blue Eyes as much as I do,” Clara insisted.

  That was very likely true, and it didn’t just apply to the residents of Peaceful Acres but to everyone in the entire universe. “Yes, but you could maybe find someone who shares your interest in cats. Then that would make both Ol’ Blue Eyes and you happy.”

  “Maybe,” Clara said as if actually considering it. McCall wished that she would, but she figured that their call next week would go pretty much the same as this one.

  “Just give Mr. Bolton or anyone else there five minutes of conversation,” McCall went on. “If at the end of the five minutes you don’t want to keep talking, then just politely explain that you should go and take care of your cat. Five minutes,” she emphasized. “I really think it’s a good idea.”

  “You do?” Again, the woman sounded as if she was considering it. “All right. I guess, then, I’ll give that a try. But what happens if Mr. Bolton wants to have s-e-x? I’m not sure I’m ready for that.” She paused. “But I might be ready for a kiss or a hug. I used to like kisses and hugs.”

  McCall had to wonder how long it’d been since the woman had had either of those things. Hugs that didn’t involve the cat, she mentally amended. It’d probably been decades.

  “You don’t have to have sex. Just talk, and if talking leads to kissing and hugging, take your time to figure out if that’s what you want,” McCall explained. “Use the sixty-minute rule for that. For sixty minutes only kiss and hug, nothing more. Make sure you keep on all your clothes, too, so you’re not tempted.”

  And if Mr. Bolton was on the receiving end of that one hour, it would seriously slow him down—which was a good thing, as well. After all, he seemed to be on the receiving end of too many kisses and hugs, ones that didn’t have any emotional connection whatsoever. While that was fine for an occasional hookup, Mr. Bolton had made it his norm, and he’d likely done that to avoid intimacy.

  “But what if he wants more?” Clara asked. “What if I want more?” she amended.

  McCall couldn’t help but smile. The woman just might take this and run with it. “Then wait for at least a day until you decide on more. That way you can be sure that’s what you really want.”

  “Five minutes of conversation. Then sixty minutes of the other stuff if the talking is okay,” Clara repeated. “I might be able to do that. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

  McCall ended the call and hoped for the best. She put her phone away and went to her laptop to put in notes about the session, but her phone rang.

  Austin.

  She went through the little stomach flip-flop that she usually got at the thought of him. Then McCall tamped down her breathing before she answered.

  “I need a big favor,” Austin immediately said. “I’m tied up with something right now, and I need someone to pick up the girls from preschool.”

  McCall was both surprised and pleased that he’d asked, but he continued before she could say that.

  “I can call somebody else if you’re too busy, but I’d like for it to be you,” he went on. “Then you and I can talk once I get back to the house. I can tell you why I need you to do this.”

  Well, that sounded intriguing, and since she needed to talk to him, too, this could work out for both of them. This time, though, she’d have to make sure she told him about Peekaboo before he got into what he wanted to say.

  “I can go get the girls,” she assured him.

  “Good. Thanks. But you’ll have to use my truck because it’s got the car seats in it. It’s parked in front of my house, and I left the keys under the seat.”

  McCall blinked in surprise. Lone Star Ridge wasn’t exactly a hotbed of crime so it didn’t surprise her that Austin had left the keys like that, but it did surprise her that he hadn’t taken his truck wherever it was he’d gone. Again, it was intriguing.

  “No problem,” she told him. “Just let the school know that I’ll be picking them up, though. They probably have rules about that sort of thing.”

  “Will do. Thanks, McCall.” He sounded flustered and harried, and she got confirmation of that when he quickly ended the call.

  McCall grabbed her purse and hurried downstairs to tell Em and Boo that she was heading out. When she didn’t find them, she left them a note and went out to her SUV.

  The drive to Austin’s didn’t take long, but along the way she started to speculate about why Austin had sounded so urgent about talking to her. Maybe something had come up with Edith. Another custody threat. Or he could want to see her to tell her that their dating was a bad idea.

  That put a twist in her stomach.

  But she couldn’t deny that it was indeed a bad idea. That’s why she had to tell him about Peekaboo, and then Austin would know that she was someone he should avoid. Of course, that only twisted her up even more.

  By the time she’d gotten his truck and driven to the school, McCall felt as if she’d bathed in a big tub of dread. That eased some when she spotted Avery and Gracie waiting in the pickup area with Adelle Carson, their teacher who was someone McCall had known from childhood. The girls jumped up and down when they spotted McCall get out of their dad’s truck.

  “The fairy lady,” they squealed in unison. They rushed toward her, giving her a hug. That certainly helped with McCall’s otherwise dreary mood.

  “McCall,” Adelle greeted. “I didn’t know you knew the twins so well.”

  McCall caught the unspoken text in that. Adelle obviously thought Austin and she were involved. She didn’t know if Adelle would spread that as gossip, but if so, there was nothing McCall could do about it. Plus, the gossip would soon die down when folks didn’t see Austin and her together.

  “I’ve been to Austin’s place a couple of times,” McCall settled for saying, and she got the girls moving toward the truck.

  “Can we play fairy princess?” Gracie asked just as Avery said, “Can we play cops and bobbers?”

  “Well, I’m not a cop like your aunt Cait, and I’m not really
a fairy princess, but we can play fairy tale rules.”

  That got a groan from Avery and a look of disappointment from Gracie.

  “We each get to be the fairy princess and come up with our own rules,” McCall amended.

  After a few moments for the girls to process that, McCall’s suggestion brought on claps and excited wiggles, which made it a little hard to get them in the child restraints in the back seat of the double cab pickup.

  “But there are rules for the rules,” McCall added. “You can’t make a rule that makes someone feel bad or makes them say things they really don’t want to say. In fairy tale land, everybody should be happy.”

  The girls stayed quiet a moment, clearly considering that, but then the clapping returned.

  “I’ll start,” McCall said once she was behind the wheel. “My fairy tale rule is that Gracie has to tell me her favorite color.”

  “Reen,” Gracie immediately said, mispronouncing green.

  “Great choice. And now it’s Gracie’s turn to make a fairy tale rule,” McCall instructed while she drove back toward Austin’s.

  Gracie took a moment, and after glancing in the rearview mirror, McCall could see the girl’s face screwed up in concentration. “Avery’s gotta tell me her favorite color.”

  “Red,” Avery quickly answered as if anticipating the question. “Now, it’s my turn to do a law?”

  “It is,” McCall assured her.

  “Fairy lady’s gotta tell me her favorite color,” Avery said.

  Obviously, there was a theme here, and McCall answered, “Blue.”

  The game continued with favorite foods and drinks, and it ended with favorite books as McCall pulled to a stop in front of Austin’s. She didn’t see any sign of Austin, but McCall recognized the car parked in his driveway.

  Edith.

  “We don’t gotta go with Grandma Edith, do we?” Avery immediately asked. “Can we make that a fairy tale rule?”