Those Texas Nights

by Delores Fossen

  No, he didn’t. And Sophie wondered if it had something to do with that phone call he’d gotten.

  She heard the doorbell ring, followed by Mila calling out to her. Sophie hurried to the foyer so she could find out why her friend had visited her semi-ex-lover without telling her. However, the moment Mila stepped inside, Sophie saw something tucked under her friend’s arm that had her holding off on the question.

  A pink envelope.

  “Please don’t tell me that’s from my father,” Sophie said.

  Mila shook her head. “I don’t think so, but it does have your name on it. It was tucked in the newspaper slot of your mailbox so I stopped and got it. You think it might be from Clay?” she asked, lowering her voice and smiling.

  Sophie shook her head, too. “If Clay were to send me a letter, he wouldn’t use a pink envelope. He knows I don’t have especially good memories associated with that color.”

  “Then maybe you have a secret admirer.” Mila stepped away when she saw Belle, and gave the woman a hug.

  “I’ll call Lawson and Ava to come on over so we can start dinner early,” her mother announced.

  Sophie heard her, but her attention was on the envelope. It did indeed have her name on it, but it didn’t just say Sophie. Someone had typed Miss Sophie Granger on the front. Much too formal for Clay. Heck, it was too formal for anyone who knew her.

  It wasn’t sealed so she opened the flap and peeked inside. It was a white piece of paper with something typed on it. She slid it out, sliding out the other papers that were attached to it with a clip.

  The message read:

  If you want to know all about Clay McKinnon, take a look at these.

  Everything inside her went still, and the last thing Sophie wanted to do was see what was behind that note. But she couldn’t stop herself, either. She lifted the page and saw it.

  Oh, God.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  SOPHIE PARKED UP the road a good quarter of a mile from Clay’s, pulling her car into an old ranch trail so that it couldn’t be easily seen, and she started walking. Her heart was pounding. Her mind racing with what she’d seen in that pink envelope.

  It sickened her to think that the photos could be real, and she reminded herself that this could be some kind of prank. Something meant to upset her because of her connection to Clay.

  If so, it’d worked. She was upset. And she needed answers.

  Sophie hadn’t told anyone in her family about what was in the envelope. Not even Mila. She’d let her friend believe it was indeed from Clay though obviously Mila and Garrett realized something was wrong. Still, Sophie had put them off, saying she wasn’t feeling well and had then picked and nibbled at the meal.

  Her lack of appetite and mood had backfired some, though. Because when she was helping to clear the table, she had heard Mary Lynn ask Belle if Sophie could be pregnant.

  Great.

  Now that rumor would be floating around town.

  Sophie hadn’t called Clay because, thanks to Reena’s gossip, she knew he was supposed to be at his place with his sister, nephews and Brantley for their Thanksgiving feast. And he was, because the moment Clay’s house came into view, she saw Brantley’s car.

  She ducked behind a tree to see if she could spot Clay through the window. That way she could get his attention, and he could come out for a quick chat.

  Hopefully, one with quick answers that would explain all of this away.

  Despite the sunny day, the temps were still in the forties, and while Sophie had worn a coat, it didn’t take long before she began shivering a little. It also didn’t take the chickens long to notice she was there. They came out from the bushes and, pecking the ground, they started in her direction.

  There was some movement in the large bay window at the front of his house, but it was only the twins. They appeared to be giggling and were pointing at the chickens.

  Oh, no.

  She didn’t want the twins’ attention anywhere near the critters because the chickens were only a few yards away. And they were quickly pecking up the distance between them and her.

  Sophie ducked even farther behind the tree and considered texting Clay so he could distract the boys and then come outside to see her. But before she could even get to her phone, April appeared in the window. And Brantley.

  Then Clay.

  Clay was the only one of the group scowling, no doubt because of the previous chicken attacks. But the boys, April and Brantley seemed absolutely enchanted by the poultry.

  Poultry that were now only a few inches away from Sophie.

  She couldn’t take the chance of peering out from the tree any longer because the humans might see her, so she stood there as still as she could manage. The chickens came, and they must have found some prime pecking material around her shoes because they hovered around her. And hovered. She tried to shoo them away by moving her feet a little, but unruffled, they just adjusted their pecking grounds a little but stayed right by her.

  Time stopped—Sophie was sure of it.

  The temp must have dropped by thirty degrees, too.

  And she had to pee.

  Too bad she’d forgotten to go to the bathroom before she’d left the ranch, but she had been in a hurry to sneak out of there after Mila, Ava and Lawson had left. Sophie had feigned a headache and told her mom she needed to go for a drive to see if that would help. It was a lame excuse, but her mother had only quietly agreed.

  Quietly and suspiciously.

  No doubt because she was now convinced her daughter was pregnant.

  Sophie was about to risk a look around the tree to see if Clay and the others were still there, but her phone buzzed before she could do that. Maybe Clay had spotted her after all and had sent a text message to tell her how to get out of this mess. Literally.

  Because the chickens were also pooping around her.

  She eased the phone from her pocket and silently cursed when it wasn’t Clay’s name on the screen but rather her mother’s.

  You know you can tell me anything, her mother had texted.

  No, she couldn’t. Sophie wouldn’t tell a soul about this visit, but her mother was almost certainly referring to her future grandchild that she was now convinced Sophie was carrying.

  Sophie texted back a noncommittal thanks, slipped her phone into her pocket and nearly had a heart attack when she heard the voice. Not a faraway voice, either, but one that was very, very close.

  “What are you doing out here?” Clay whispered.

  She made a few garbled sounds and tried to recover from the surprise of seeing him. She also had to make sure he was alone. Other than the chickens, he was, and Clay was volleying some uneasy glances between them and her.

  “I had to come,” she said. “I had to see you.”

  “And it couldn’t wait?” He didn’t give her a chance to respond and was likely about to tell her to be on her way.

  Sophie stopped him. “Someone sent me a pink envelope. And it wasn’t from my father.”

  Clay hesitated, looked away. “You opened it?”

  “Yes.” Sophie left it at that until his gaze came back to her. “What does it mean? Who sent it? And who was that woman in that horrible picture?”

  Now he cursed. “Did the sender threaten you in any way? Did you see him?”

  She shook her head. “No. Someone left the envelope on the mailbox, and it wasn’t a threat. The letter inside said—‘if you want to know all about Clay McKinnon, take a look at these.’ It wasn’t signed or anything. What does it mean?” she repeated.

  This time, he cursed. “I can’t talk about it right now, but I’ll come to the ranch later.”

  “No, my mother and her best friend are there. I don’t want to start any gossip that’ll get back to your sister. Plus
, my mother probably thinks I’m pregnant with your child so if she saw you, she’d bring that up.”

  Sophie hadn’t intended to throw in that last part, but since she was dropping bombshells, she might as well empty her arsenal. That’s the reason she added, “And that hand job had nothing to do with a rebound.”

  Clearly, that was a lot to deal with at once, especially when time was a factor. “I’ll text you after April and the others leave. You can come over then, and we can talk.” Clay didn’t sound as if he were looking forward to that. “I’ll go back inside and see if I can hurry dinner along,” Clay said. “I’m sorry.” And he started cursing again.

  At first, Sophie thought the cursing might be aimed at her, but she heard the footsteps. And the voice. Not April, thank God, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t far behind.

  “What’s going on out here?” Brantley asked.

  No way was Sophie going to tell him the truth, and she didn’t want to launch into another fake kiss, either. It was going to be hard enough to convince folks that she wasn’t pregnant, and if Brantley saw a kiss, even a fake one, he might buy into what would no doubt soon become a public rumor of Clay knocking her up.

  Sophie did the first thing she could think of. She grabbed one of the chickens and thrust it toward Clay. The other chickens scattered, and the one she held squawked and wiggled, but Sophie held on to make her point.

  “I was driving by, and this one was on the road,” Sophie lied. “I didn’t want her to get run over so I decided to bring her home. Here, take her,” she added to Clay.

  He probably would have preferred taking hold of a rattlesnake, but keeping with the lie, he took the chicken. The squawking got louder, but instead of just wiggling, the hen dug her spurs into Clay’s hands. It went after his face with its beak and drew blood.

  Sophie quickly snatched it away and put it back on the ground. She stayed stooped down, though, because she heard something she didn’t want to hear.

  “Is everything okay out there?” April called out.

  “Fine,” Brantley and Clay lied in unison. Collectively, there was a whole lot of lying going on tonight. Hiding, too, because both Clay and Brantley moved in front of Sophie so that April wouldn’t be able to see her.

  “Get the first aid kit,” Brantley told April. “Your brother needs it.”

  Finally, someone had spoken the truth. He did need it, and this latest attack wasn’t going to help the other thing she intended to find out tonight.

  One way or another, Clay was going to give her the answers she needed.

  * * *

  CLAY WAVED GOODBYE to his sister and Brantley, and with the boys sacked out in their car seats, he watched them drive away. The moment they were out of sight, he took out his phone to text Sophie. Since she answered right back that she was on her way, Clay knew he didn’t have much time.

  He sat on the steps, took out the note with the number and called it. Like his text to Sophie, he got an immediate response. The person accepted the call on the first ring, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Brody,” Clay greeted, and it wasn’t a question. He knew Brody Kincaid was there, listening and waiting for something he would never accept from Clay.

  An apology.

  Clay had tried to give that to him in the past, but that wasn’t why he was calling tonight.

  “It’s all right to send that stuff to me,” Clay warned him, “but you keep Sophie Granger out of this.”

  “I had to do something to get your attention,” Brody said. His voice was low, practically a growl, and dripping with emotion. And pain. Especially pain.

  “Brody, you’ve always had my attention. There’s no need to drag anyone else into our mess.”

  “Sophie needs to know. You shouldn’t bed a woman until she knows what you did.”

  Clay couldn’t argue with that, and it was one of the reasons he’d resisted Sophie. She really didn’t know him. Well, she didn’t know what was in his shit-to-forget box anyway, and that was a damn big part of who he was.

  What he was.

  “I’ll tell Sophie the things she needs to know,” Clay assured him. “And you’re stopping the calls and the letters, not just to Sophie but to me and anyone else you think you might want to reach out to. No negotiation, no second warnings. This. Stops. Now.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Then, I’ll arrest you.” Man, it hurt to say that. Brody and he had once been friends. No, it was more than that. Once, they’d been like brothers.

  “You’ll arrest me after everything you did to me...to my sister?” The bitterness in his tone went up a notch.

  Clay adjusted his tone, too, to make sure Brody got this word for word. “Yeah, I will. Delaney was your sister, and I know you loved her, but that doesn’t give you the right to do what you’re doing now.” And he hit the end call button.

  If Brody called back on his cell, he’d block the number. But Clay took it one step further. He went inside the living room, grabbed hold of the landline cord and ripped it out of the wall.

  One problem solved.

  Yeah, he deserved punishment all right, but he was giving himself a reprieve just for tonight. Because if Sophie heard another Killer message, it would be punishment for her, too.

  While he was at it, he carried both the phone and answering machine to the trash. If his neighbors wanted to get in touch with him, they could call dispatch. Clay was slamming down the lid on the trash can when Sophie walked in.

  “Bad day?” she asked.

  He wanted to kiss her for the awful joke. And for so many other reasons.

  She stepped inside, shutting the door behind her, and he had to give it to her. She didn’t avoid making eye contact with him, didn’t stay back as if afraid of him. Sophie went to him and did something that Clay had wanted to do to her.

  She kissed him.

  Until her mouth came to his, Clay hadn’t realized just how much he needed it. How much he needed her. It didn’t matter that he shouldn’t need her. Nothing else mattered right now. She just kissed him until some of the bone-deep cold seeped away.

  She pulled back, scrounged up a smile, though, he wasn’t sure how she managed it because she’d no doubt had an even worse day than he had.

  “First things first.” She touched her fingers to the chicken wound on his forehead. “Are you okay?”

  “It’s just a scratch.” A semitraumatizing one because he’d just started to trust the feathered bastards. “How about you? Are you okay?”

  She lifted her shoulder. “You’ll probably be getting a visit from my mother. If I can’t figure out a way to head her off at the pass, then she’ll probably come over here with a shotgun-proposal demand. She has this huge problem with her offspring having babies out of wedlock. Even babies that don’t exist.”

  Yeah, Sophie had indeed had a hellish day. “Why does your mom think you’re pregnant?”

  “Moodiness. I picked at my food at lunch. I won’t use those stupid dating sites. Plus, Vita came by with these condoms, and my mother heard me tell her that I didn’t need them, that it was too late. Added to that, she’s heard the rumor about us seeing each other.”

  It was the perfect storm of real information mixed with rumors. He would definitely be getting a visit from Belle Granger.

  “And as for my rebound hand job remark,” she went on, “Garrett’s responsible for that.”

  “You talked to your brother about that?” Hell. He’d be getting a visit from Garrett, too.

  “No. Not that specifically. Garrett was talking about me rebounding with you, and he was serious because he used the f-word.” She stopped, looked up at him. “This isn’t making any sense.”

  “It is,” he assured her. “Garrett’s your big brother, and he’s concerned about you. Trust me. I get it sinc
e I’ve had that same conversation with April about rebounding and Brantley.”

  She nodded, brushed a kiss on his henpecked cheek. And waited. They still had a lot to discuss.

  Since there was no easy way around this, Clay just dived in headfirst. “I called the man who sent you that stuff, and if he sends you anything else or contacts you, I’ll arrest him.”

  That put some concern in her eyes. “He’s dangerous?”

  “No. Not physically, anyway, but he’s hurting, and what he sent you and what he sends me is his way of lashing out. He wants to make sure I hurt as much as he does.” Mission accomplished. Of course, Clay hadn’t needed the lashing out to hurt. The hurt was always there. “What was in the envelope?”

  She reached in her jacket pocket and took it out. She’d folded it in fours so it took him a couple of seconds to open it. There were no surprises. The typewritten note was exactly as Sophie had said.

  If you want to know all about Clay McKinnon, take a look at these.

  These were two photos that Clay knew well because Brody sent them to him each month. The first was a shot of Clay, Brody and Delaney. Delaney was in the middle, her arms slung around their waists, and she was smiling from ear to ear. Since the shooting, seeing that smile always cut him to the core, and tonight was no different.

  Clay needed a deep breath before he went to the second photo. Again, no surprises. This photo had been taken only two hours after the last one.

  But in this second picture, she was dead, lying in a pool of her own blood.

  Clay refolded both pictures, the note, and slipped them back into the envelope. He dropped it on the end table, but he’d need to bring it to work and add it to the others. He definitely didn’t want to leave it in Sophie’s hands.

  “I’m not sure I can tell you about that last picture,” he admitted. “Not tonight, anyway.”

  She nodded again. “Is the person who sent it to me the same one who left you that phone message when I was here?”

  “Yes. And he’s the same man in the first photo. The same one who sends me a pink envelope each month.”