Wild Wyoming Nights

by Joanne Rock

  “But I’m happy to stay with you. I don’t have to work today—”

  “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.” His blue eyes were steely as he stared up at her. “Dax will make sure you get home.”

  Could he have made it any more plain he didn’t want her comfort? Or even her company? Hurt and knowing this wasn’t the time to talk about it, she simply nodded.

  She would follow Carson to his father’s house and wait for the security guard like he’d asked. But it was obvious the risk she’d taken in letting her guard down with him had been a major miscalculation.

  Not only had she been unwise in opening herself up to potential hurt, she had also undermined all the hard work she’d done in the last few years to feel emotionally strong. Independent. Because as she nudged her horse into motion to follow Carson across the Wyoming hills, Emma knew she’d lost a piece of her heart to him today. Based on the way he’d retreated from her, he somehow knew that she was falling for him.

  And despite the sizzling passion, the feeling simply wasn’t returned.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Emma regretted slowing down Carson on the ride to his parents’ home. No doubt he could have raced over the rugged but familiar-to-him Wyoming terrain in half the time if he’d been alone, but he maintained a more reasonable pace for her sake. Especially when they’d had to cross streams overflowing from the recent rain, or when they’d had to pick their way down a rocky bluff because it was faster than going around.

  He may have withdrawn from her emotionally, but she couldn’t fault him for lack of chivalry, even when it was obvious he was worried for his family. As the simple two-story home on the property of the Black Creek Ranch came into view, she did a double take, seeing a man who looked just like Carson stepping out of a big gray pickup truck.

  His twin.

  When Carson’s brother came toward them, Emma could see subtle differences in the way they carried themselves.

  She reined in when Carson did, swinging down to the ground before he could help her.

  “Carson.” His twin nodded at him, his tone brusque.

  There was a stiffness about their greeting that Emma suspected might be there even if this wasn’t a devastating day for the family.

  “Cody.” Carson nodded back, his gesture mirroring his brother’s. Even their hats were the same. Carson drew her forward. “Emma, this is my brother Cody. Cody, this is Emma Layton. She’s a stunt performer.”

  “A stunt performer?” Cody held out his hand, his blue eyes kind under the brim of his Stetson. “Nice to meet you, Emma. Looks like my daredevil twin has met his match.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, too,” she murmured, unsure about his comment since she’d never seen that side of Carson. Had it been a subtle dig? She couldn’t help but feel defensive of him, no matter that Carson didn’t seem to want her around for the family meeting. “And Carson has been helping me to stay safe during the riding stunts. He’s been a good influence.”

  Cody’s eyebrows lifted, his gaze darting to his brother. “Is that right?”

  But Carson’s attention was on the driveway where another vehicle had pulled up. “Here’s Maisie.” He turned back to his twin. “You know Scarlett is still in LA, Madeline’s at the White Horse and can’t get away, and Brock is in Bakersfield for the day. So it’s just the three of us for this.”

  “Emma makes four,” Cody pointed out.

  Carson tensed beside her. Did the idea of having her there with his family upset him that much? Or did his reaction have more to do with whatever undercurrent ran between him and his twin?

  “You really think Dad will talk in front of anyone who isn’t family?” Carson responded tightly.

  “He’d probably be glad to have someone sit with Paige,” Cody explained. “I would have brought Jillian, but she’s battling some fierce morning sickness.”

  Emma could see some of the tension seep out of Carson’s shoulders. How strange to think she could already read his body language that way.

  “I’m sorry she’s not feeling well.” Carson sounded sincere.

  “Thank you. She usually perks up later in the day, but I didn’t want her to tire herself out more. See you both inside.” Cody touched the brim of his Stetson and gave Emma a nod before striding away and into the modest two-story house.

  She understood this family meeting wasn’t going to be pleasant and she hadn’t meant to make things more awkward. “I can still wait out here for Dax, if you prefer.”

  “It’s not that I’m trying to cut you out,” Carson assured her, though his eyes didn’t quite meet hers as he glanced over to where his sister was walking toward them. “I just wasn’t certain how much my father would say in front of you. He only found out about the blackmail note himself just now.”

  “Well I’m very happy to sit with your stepmother while the rest of your talk if you would like me to,” Emma told him, her eyes shifting toward Carson’s sister, dressed in worn red cowboy boots, jeans and a dusty T-shirt with the ranch logo printed on it.

  Like the other McNeills, her dark hair and bright blue eyes gave her a distinctive look that marked her as family. But there was a no-nonsense clip to her walk and her gaze was frank.

  “Yes. My God, yes. Please sit with my mother.” Maisie already had a hand out to shake Emma’s. “I’m Maisie and thank you for volunteering for that.”

  Emma liked her already, appreciating the warm welcome after the awkwardness between Carson and his brother.

  “Emma Layton.” She squeezed Maisie’s hand.

  “The stunt rider. I attended some of the race scene filming yesterday, and I thought you were fantastic.” Maisie flipped her bangs out of her eyes. “Plus, it was sort of refreshing watching my reckless big brother be scared for someone else’s neck for a change. In the past it was always us holding our breath to see if he lived through another day.” Maisie winked at Carson and looped her arm through Emma’s. “Come in and I’ll introduce you to Mom. If you can distract her, that would be great. She’s been wound up and confused ever since she woke from her coma and I’m sure the latest news isn’t helping.”

  Emma wasn’t sure how to refuse, let alone how to get a word in edgewise with Maisie’s nonstop talking. She had a hunch that the other woman was trying to ensure Carson didn’t gainsay her, though, so the torrent of words was more to prevent him from interrupting than to silence Emma.

  Still, she glanced back at Carson to see if he was frustrated at the way his siblings had coerced him into inviting her inside. But he followed them up the flagstone path, hands shoved in his pocket, his expression inscrutable.

  Maybe he didn’t want her to come in, but clearly his siblings welcomed the help on a difficult day for the family. And there was something comforting about that, when Carson was pulling away from her as fast as he could.

  Because even though her relationship with Carson wasn’t going to survive, Emma would never forget the way he’d helped her this week when she’d been at a personal crossroads. His patient teaching had given her the skills needed to keep her job. He’d given her a safe place to be when Austin was released from the state penitentiary.

  Best of all, his tenderness and passion had given her a glimpse of what real love should look like. Their time together had proven to her that she’d healed from her past.

  So even though what she had with Carson couldn’t last, Emma wouldn’t trade her time in Cheyenne for anything. And if she could do this small thing to help him in return for all he’d given her, then she would gladly sit with his stepmother all day long.

  For all Emma knew, it might be her last chance to be close to Carson McNeill.

  * * *

  Carson put on a fresh pot of coffee in his father’s kitchen, listening to his family argue about whether or not to call the police. The kitchen opened onto the living area, so he could still
chime in if he chose. But as he filled the glass carafe with filtered water, he wasn’t sure where he fell in the debate.

  Then again, maybe he was just too damned distracted thinking about Emma. Remembering that hurt look in her eyes when he’d suggested she go home with Dax.

  It was a hurt that he’d seen in her eyes even before then, starting when he’d pulled back after making love in the sauna. She’d seen the walls go up. Recognized the withdrawal for what it was, even if she hadn’t called him on it. He hadn’t ever wanted to cause her pain. But somehow, he was going to do just that.

  And now, she was in Paige’s bedroom, trying to distract her from the threat of extortion with talk about horses. The weather. The beauty of Wyoming. Carson had wandered past the open door enough times since Emma had gone in there that he knew she was doing a good job of keeping things light.

  Keeping Paige from joining the argument in the living room.

  That Emma would put his family first touched him, even as it made him more certain he was all wrong for her. She deserved the kind of man who would put her first, too. Someone who wouldn’t put her love at risk.

  “Carson,” his sister called from the living room, “do you think we should call the police?”

  “The letter doesn’t explicitly say not to,” he observed, thinking out loud more than necessarily giving an answer. He went into the living room and picked up the note, which his father had already slid into a plastic bag to preserve as evidence. “It says, ‘Paige’s secrets will be revealed in the most public possible way, across all social media channels, three days from now at 6 p.m. Pacific time unless five million dollars is sent to an off-shore account. Routing information will arrive at 3 p.m. that day.’”

  “And there was no postmark,” his father added, his weathered face as worried as Carson had ever seen.

  Well, as worried as he’d seen since those horrific days after his birth mother’s injury. For the three days that Kara Calderon McNeill had clung to life after being run down by a bull, Donovan had been a shell of a man, his face a mask of fear.

  Then, after her death, Donovan McNeill had become someone different. An intense man, fiercely devoted to the ranch and his family, willing to cut off anyone and everyone who threatened either. But he didn’t show emotion. Not even when he’d walked away from his own father for good.

  For Carson, seeing his father shaken again brought back unwelcome memories. And hammered home the gravity of the family’s situation.

  “So the letter was left by someone locally.” Cody sat in the recliner, but kept his feet planted on the floor, an elbow on each knee. “I still say it’s someone on the set of Winning the West. Someone who didn’t want to film up here in the first place. That’s the only explanation that makes sense for why Scarlett got a note in LA, and now we got a note in Cheyenne.”

  Maisie sat sideways on the love seat, boots off, feet propped on the cushion next to her. “Right. Plus the first note warned us that we shouldn’t let the movie film up here. Maybe the blackmailer didn’t want Paige to recognize him.”

  “We only have three days to figure out what we’re going to do,” Carson reminded them as he headed back into the kitchen. “And we’ve had a private investigator working on it for five days already.”

  “Only to come up with nothing,” Cody muttered, scratching a hand through his hair.

  “He got sidetracked looking into Logan King’s background. So far, the actor seems clean, but since Scarlett is in LA again with him, I thought it wise to have someone make sure she stays safe.”

  Maisie gave a dismissive snort. “Scarlett will lose it if she finds out you’re having her followed, do you know that? Lose. It.”

  Carson hadn’t considered that. But damn it, her safety came first.

  Their father folded his arms across his barrel chest. “Scarlett aside, do we really think the cops are going to do any better than a PI with the best possible references?”

  The coffee maker chimed on the counter, the machine spewing steam as it burbled. Maisie shifted her feet off the love seat to stand, joining Carson in the kitchen.

  “Before we go any further, we need to call Granddad,” she announced. “This blackmailer isn’t just going after Paige. He’s going after the McNeills. That involves a lot more people than the ones who live in Cheyenne.”

  Dad swore. He hadn’t spoken to his father in over twenty years. But Carson had hoped that maybe he was ready to put it behind him when Donovan had willingly stepped onto his father’s private jet for the flight up to Yellowstone where Paige had been in her hiking accident. Before that, Malcolm McNeill had rented a small hobby ranch in Cheyenne around Christmastime to try to make amends with his son, and he’d kept the house since then in an effort to show he was serious about salvaging their relationship. Carson liked the guy. They all did, actually. Cody was the lone holdout besides Donovan who hadn’t paid a visit to Malcolm’s place.

  But Cody surprised Carson by backing up Maisie. “She’s right. This is bigger than us, Dad. If Mom’s past has any kind of scandal that could hurt Malcolm’s business, or his other grandkids’ businesses, we at least owe him a heads-up.”

  Maisie poured two cups of coffee and brought one of them—black—to their father. “Here, Dad.” She set it down on the coffee table in front of his spot on the sofa. “You really don’t have any ideas what Mom might be hiding?”

  Donovan shrugged. “She came to Cheyenne to start over. I knew that. Figured she had a dad who beat her or something, with the way she’s always been skittish.”

  Carson ground his teeth. How could his father not know after being married to Paige for so long? Carson had only known Emma a short time, and already he wanted to put walls between her and anyone who wanted to hurt her.

  Not just this week, he realized. But for as long as she’d let him. The thought stopped him cold.

  “What about her family?” Carson pressed, taking Maisie’s forgotten coffee over to her and setting it on the coffee table next to her. “The PI says that no one who shares Paige’s maiden name of Samara has ever heard of her in that tiny Canadian town where she said her aunt Mary lives. You don’t know anyone else from her past?”

  Donovan started to shake his head when a voice from the hallway joined the conversation.

  “I do.” Emma stood at the edge of the room. She held a round locket in her hand, a necklace Carson recognized as Paige’s. “I know the woman pictured in here. And her name isn’t Mary.”

  Twelve

  Emma couldn’t stop shaking.

  She watched as the necklace quivered in her grip, wondering what on earth the locket meant. Whatever it was, she couldn’t shake the sense that something bad would come of it.

  Carson moved to her side, ushering her into his father’s living room. “Is Paige okay?” he asked quietly, his strong arms so incredibly welcome. So grounding. If only she could trust in what she felt. “Should one of us go sit with her?”

  “She fell asleep a minute ago,” Emma told him, realizing Carson’s whole family was staring at her, sitting forward on their seats.

  Had she been too quick to run out here to share her discovery with them? She’d just been so...stunned.

  Her gaze flicked to the man who must be their father, a big cowboy wearing a leather vest and boots, his blue plaid shirt and jeans giving him the stamp of another era. His arms were folded across his chest as he eyed her skeptically.

  Carson’s twin sat near him while one of their sisters perched on a heavy coffee table, two cups of java close to her as she swiveled around to have a look at Emma.

  “She showed you her locket?” Maisie asked while Carson guided Emma to the sofa.

  He sank into the cushion next to her, his presence comforting. Strong. Warm. His touch settled her nerves, making her question her haste to share. She’d never liked feeling anxious—a sensation she associated wit
h her mother, who’d spent whole years of her life being worried. With an effort, Emma took a deep breath.

  “Not exactly,” Emma admitted, dropping the necklace into Carson’s open palm. “Paige was holding on to it when I went into her room. I asked her about it, thinking that was a good topic since Maisie said to distract her.”

  Maisie nodded, so Emma continued, hoping she hadn’t spoken out of turn to divulge a family secret, or to reveal something Paige had kept private. But the McNeills had been through so much. They deserved to know what Emma had learned.

  “Paige clutched it tighter, like the locket was meaningful. Then she told me a story about her aunt Mary, who had always struggled with addiction but was actually a sweet person. So I talked a little about my mom—” She slanted a glance toward Carson, trying to remember how much she’d disclosed about her mother. “She’s good-hearted, though a bit unstable, even if addiction was never one of her demons.”

  Carson squeezed her shoulder, and she was tempted to tip her head to rest it briefly on him, as if she could absorb his strength. The conversation with Paige—while brief—had been more draining than she would have anticipated, given that her mission had been to avoid conversational land mines and keep her calm.

  But Carson had only gotten involved with her to keep her safe. Not to care for her. Definitely not to love her.

  “I don’t remember Paige ever saying Aunt Mary was an addict,” Carson’s twin said. “Dad, did you know that?”

  Their father shook his head before he asked, “What else did she say?”

  “Not much.” Emma tried to remember. “Besides, I was more focused on thinking of topics that weren’t related to her past in case that upset her. That’s why I brought up my own mother—to maybe redirect her.”

  “You did well,” Carson assured her softly, his palm flat against her back. Rubbing lightly. “Thank you.”

  She knew she shouldn’t take so much comfort from his touch when he had pulled away from her after the sauna. This tenderness he showed her wouldn’t last. When her part of the filming was over, Carson wouldn’t be clamoring to see her again.