Texas Temptation

by Kathryn Brocato

  “I have a murder to investigate, Ms. Lewis.”

  Her cheeks puffed out. “Can you do it without involving me?”

  Remy chuckled. “Sorry, you’re already involved.”

  With a shake of her head, she slipped past him. “Go find your seat in the stands, Detective. You’ll just be in my way.”

  He turned and stared at her backside. “Am I just an obstacle for you?”

  She halted, and then slowly rotated, the brim of her hat shading her eyes. Unable to read them, his muscles tensed. Retracing her steps, she invaded his personal space. The scent of vanilla and sandalwood clung to her. Remy took a step back, his hand inching toward the Ruger’s handle. Adrenaline shot straight to his muscles and his senses narrowed. She had no clue she was forcing him into a corner.

  As if sensing his discomfort, she backed off. He resisted the urge to release his pent up breath. No one got this close to him. Not even Anderson.

  “What do you want from me?” she whispered.

  He’d like to know the answer himself. As it stood, he couldn’t make heads or tails of his sudden urge to seek her out tonight. But one thing was certain: If Doc Warner and Moreno were right and the Rodeo Sweethearts killer had returned, then he was lurking around here. And who better than the cowgirl herself to integrate Remy with the world of professional rodeo while he kept an eye on things? “A guide.”

  A scowl marred her pretty face. “What?”

  “You know these people. How they think and how they’ll react. I want your help to navigate. If I appear to be like one of you, I’ll get more answers.”

  “Nuh-uh!” She crossed her arms. “Forget it. It’s bad enough that I had to find the poor woman who lost her life. I’m not going to be your stooge.”

  Time to cajole. “Cody, most people would love the chance to be an amateur sleuth.” The words tasted like dust. He hated the concept, but if it got her to help …

  “Yeah, well, I’m not most people.”

  That was evident. Most people — most women — didn’t cross his mind more than once. Yet this sharp-tongued cowgirl drew him like a gator to a tasty meal.

  “The answer is still no, Detective.”

  Go for the whammy. “Her name was Heather Trisk.”

  Color drained from her face, making the smattering of freckles pop out. Her arms slid to her sides. “Heather Trisk.”

  “Did you know her?”

  Cody bowed her head, removed her hat, and smoothed back her hair. “Lord have mercy on her family,” she whispered. When she lifted her head, tears gleamed in her eyes. “I didn’t know her.”

  Remy felt certain God didn’t have a whole lot of mercy to spare. “The killer’s done this before.”

  Her eyes widened and her lips formed a perfect O.

  Maybe it was a bit over the top to reveal that secret to her, but Remy was inching toward desperation.

  “You’re telling me,” her voice wobbled, “he’s killed before?”

  “Probably.”

  Her face flushed red. “In other words, he could kill again.”

  He shrugged. “It’s a theory.”

  Her eyes narrowed to slits. “You’re a real piece of work.”

  • • •

  Having LeBeau tag along while she prepared for her event was a mistake and a half. What in the world possessed her? Stupidity, plain and simple, took control of her common sense. She’d let him play her like a fiddle when he told her the killer had done this before. Cody snarled. That forked tongue Cajun wouldn’t get away with it again.

  After he’d scoped out the area behind the chutes, LeBeau went to his seat in the stadium. Finally free of his uptight presence — and the electric pull he had on her — Cody could breathe, but her focus was shot.

  She flexed her fingers around the braided leather reins. Last in the lineup, she waited outside the alley for her turn at the barrels. Beneath her, S’mores circled, her head held high. The clatter of the bit on teeth rattled Cody’s nerves. The mare must sense her sour mood. Not good.

  Standing in the stirrups, Cody rolled her shoulders and S’mores danced sideways, on a collision course with the alley gate. Tugging the reins around, Cody guided her away. With a snort, the mare swung around and then charged forward. Cody regained control before they rammed into the horse and rider in front of them.

  “Knock it off.”

  Head tucked in, her nose touching her chest, S’mores backed away. A comfortable distance off, Cody put her through a series of slow, tight circles. S’mores mouthed her bit and grunted as she moved. This fractious behavior could cost them.

  After the Roundup, Cody would give the mare a long, well deserved rest before they headed for Las Vegas after Thanksgiving.

  Assured that she’d worked out most of the fight, Cody stopped her horse. She barely had a moment to refocus on the cloverleaf pattern when her name blared over the PA system. Lifting the reins off of S’mores’s neck, Cody cued her forward.

  Eager for release, the mare pranced side to side as she moved through the maze of gates. When she reached the straight lane, Cody leaned forward and yelled, “Go!”

  S’mores exploded into the brightly lit arena to the roar of eight thousand plus fans. The noise quieted to a murmur as Cody’s focus zeroed on the first barrel. Setting up beneath her, S’mores’s hind legs bunched as she slowed. Hand wrapped around the saddle horn, Cody gripped with her knees as the mare collected and curled around the barrel. S’mores gathered herself and charged for the next barrel, jerking Cody forward in the saddle.

  At the second barrel, she sat back and let the mare do her thing. Dirt clods peppered her leg and hammered against the can when S’mores tore away. Coming on the third barrel, Cody felt a shift in her horse’s gait. They were heading into the turn on the wrong lead. Teeth clenched, Cody tugged the reins left and pressed her left heel into the mare’s side. Too late.

  S’mores cut in too close to the barrel. The can tipped and rocked on its edge. Cody kicked at the barrel, but the toe of her boot only grazed the side. Praying the thing stayed up, she slapped her heels into the mare’s side, urging S’mores to run full out. The mare streaked across the arena to the sounds of clapping and cheers from the crowd, blowing past the laser eye.

  In the exit lane, Cody hauled back on the reins. S’mores tucked her rear under her and slid to a stop. Twisting around in the saddle, Cody looked across the arena.

  The third barrel still stood. Relief flooded through her, and she sagged in her seat. She’d avoided a no time.

  “Luck’s with Cody tonight, folks. I thought for sure that barrel was going to tip over. She’ll walk away with a time of twelve point nine. Good enough to keep her in the running for the finals, but not enough to win it tonight.”

  Exhaling a long breath, she rubbed the mare’s neck as they left the exit lane. A few more mistakes like that and she could kiss her chances of taking the Roundup title good-bye. The people in Dallas and Fort Worth loved it when a hometown girl won, especially when her momma’s legacy loomed over her head. Cody’s trembling hands vibrated the reins. She halted S’mores, closed her eyes, and willed her body to relax. Slowly her muscles unwound and warmth spread through her veins. Assured that she wouldn’t collapse, she dismounted, laying a hand on S’mores’s neck to steady her body.

  The mare turned and butted Cody’s arm. Smiling, she rubbed the horse’s forehead with her knuckles. “That was a close call.”

  S’mores groaned and bobbed her head to get the full effect of Cody’s massage. The horse had an uncanny ability to switch off her enthusiasm to run the barrels the moment she completed the pattern. Something she’d inherited from her dam.

  “Lets go get this gear off you.” Cody tugged on the reins.

  As she entered the long hall leading out of the stadium, a few girls raced up
and asked for her autograph. Tucking the reins under her arm, she smiled and took one girl’s hat.

  “Are you having fun tonight?” she asked as she wrote a quick message.

  “Yeah,” the group chorused and giggled.

  S’mores snorted and shook her head.

  “Can we pet her?” a little pixie-faced girl asked.

  Cody glanced at the mare. Normally, it wouldn’t be a big deal to let them pet her, but the way S’mores was acting before her run it didn’t settle well with Cody.

  “I’m sorry, girls. S’mores is tired and kinda grumpy. I should probably get her home.”

  Pixie-face pouted, but didn’t say anything. Cody finished doling out her autographs. The girls thanked her and scurried off.

  Cody watched them go. To be young again and blissfully unaware of the dangers that lurked everywhere.

  Someone tapped her shoulder. Panic seized her and squeezed the air from her lungs. She whipped around and jerked to attention. A flood of air rushed into her lungs and the jolt of adrenalin left her weak in the knees. “I see you managed to find me, Detective.”

  LeBeau eyed her. “You’re not too difficult to spot, Ms. Lewis.”

  If he said so. She fidgeted with the reins. Why did he stare at her like she was a fresh cut of prime rib? Great, she reduced herself to a piece of meat.

  “So, all you do is ride a horse around three barrels and try to have the fastest time?”

  When he said it like that, he made it sound like she was nothing more than a can chaser. “Is this your first rodeo?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Cody smiled. Figures. Why should she be shocked that someone who lived in Dallas had never attended a rodeo before? “Yeah, and they pay me big bucks to do it.”

  “Think I’ll stick to being a cop.”

  She laughed and continued on to the trailer, glancing over to see him next to her. “What could you possibly learn from watching me unsaddle my horse?”

  A sly grin appeared. “You’d be shocked to know.”

  With a shake of her head, Cody kept going. “I’m sure I would.”

  They exited the stadium and entered the well-lit parking lot. Four security guards and two police officers patrolled within twenty yards of the building. They weren’t taking any chances. Her gaze slid to LeBeau. Apparently he wasn’t either.

  “Have you eaten yet?”

  The question brought her up short. “What?” He took a few more steps, stopped, and turned. “I asked if you ate yet?”

  “Are you asking me out?”

  The barest hint of some emotion flickered in his eyes and then poof, gone. He spread his feet hip-width apart and crossed his arms. “And if I was?”

  She scratched a spot above her eyebrow. “I’d think you were plumb loco.”

  “Really?” He seemed to perk at the idea. “Would you go to dinner with me?”

  “Why would I want to?”

  He shrugged. “Thought I’d be a gentleman and help out the cowgirl I sponsored for the weekend.”

  Oh, he really was a piece of work. How in the world did criminals not confess to this man? “Since you put it that way, your money did go to a good cause, so I guess I could let you take me out to dinner.” She held up a finger. “But only dinner.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “I’ll take care of my horse.” Cody moved to leave, then paused. “Were you planning to bring me back here?”

  “Did you want me to?”

  How long would dinner take? She didn’t know if JC planned to stay late, and if he’d wait on her to come back. LeBeau knew where she lived, so he could take her home. But the thought of being in the same vehicle with him for almost an hour made her stomach quiver. Oh, she needed to cowgirl up. It was ridiculous to think he’d try anything suspicious, much less make a pass at her. And if he did, she knew how to defend herself. “Would it be a problem if you took me home?”

  He shook his head.

  “Lemme talk with JC and see if I can work something out with him on getting my horse home.” She walked away.

  “By the way, you’re not one of those women who expects to pay for her half of the check, are you?”

  Cody turned around and smiled. “I’m an old-fashioned kind of gal. If a guy asks me out to dinner, he foots the bill.”

  Chapter Six

  The clang of metal on metal startled Cody when she approached the trailer. JC must be waiting on her. She led the mare up to a tie-down clip and swapped out the bridle for her halter. Hooking the headstall over the saddle horn, Cody went to work removing the gear.

  The trailer door banged open, and JC bounded out of the back. “’Bout time you got here. Were you wantin’ to stay for the after rodeo parties and stuff?”

  Her gaze darted to the place where she’d left LeBeau and back to her best friend. “Umm, were you?”

  JC frowned. “Only if you wanted to. Since I’m hauling your horse, I wasn’t going to stay late. I know you don’t much go for all the hoopla after … you know.”

  Exactly, all the hoopla caught her up into a huge messy web six years ago, and it took more than a year to recover.

  “We headin’ home then?”

  She sighed. “Uh, JC, I’m not going home with you. I’ve had a change of plans.”

  Shock plastered on his face, and he leaned against the trailer wall. “You never make plans.”

  Fumbling with the girth strap, Cody clenched her fists and drew in a calming breath. She undid the buckle and flipped the strap over the saddle seat. “You can’t say I never make plans.”

  “No, I guess not, but never on short notice. At least, you haven’t in like five years. So, what gives?”

  “Nothing big.”

  “Oh, that means it’s something big.”

  Maybe dinner with LeBeau was something big. But who’d fault her for playing up the marketing side of her job? The more people who became interested in rodeo and their special causes, the more money brought in all around. “Look, I’m paying it forward. That’s all.”

  JC crossed his arms, a contemplative expression crossing his face. “Paying it forward?” His face slackened. “You’re going out with that LeBeau guy who showed up here.”

  Yanking the saddle from S’mores’s back, Cody slapped it on her hip. “I’m not going out with him. He offered to take me to dinner, and that’s it.” She strode past him and stomped into the trailer’s tack room.

  “Same diff, Cody.”

  After dropping the saddle on a rack and draping the blanket over it, she backed out of the tack room and slammed the door shut. “Big diff.” She stalked back to the mare and started to brush her down.

  “Whaddya see in that Five-O anyway?”

  Cody clenched her jaw and brushed harder. This conversation had turned stupid. “JC, I didn’t ask for your opinion on how I conduct my business. And frankly, I don’t offer my opinion on how you do yours. So, I’d take it kindly if you’d butt out.”

  “If that’s how you want it.”

  “That’s exactly how I want it.” She tossed the brush into a bucket and grabbed the bucket’s metal handle. “I can take care of myself. Stop playing the role of big ole mean brother.”

  He shook his head and pushed away from the trailer. “Fine, have it your way.” He turned toward the truck. “Am I waiting around here for you to get back?”

  She looked at S’mores. The mare really should be in her own stall to sleep off her attitude. “No, head home. LeBeau will drop me off when we’re done.”

  “I’m going straight to my place. No pit stops.” He yanked open the truck door and reached inside.

  Cody dropped the bucket into the truck bed with a clatter. “Why can’t you take S’mores home?”

  He came out of the truck and shut
the door as he stuffed something into a back pocket. “Hey, if you were with me, I’d take her there. But since you’re off living it up, I’m not driving all the way out to your place. I’ll just stall her in my barn. You can get her in the morning or leave her.”

  “Son of a … ” The urge to plant her fist into JC’s face nearly undid her resolve to keep her temper in check. “You’re acting like a spoiled brat.”

  “Pot calling the kettle black.” He tossed a wave at her and stalked off. “Later!”

  Unbelievable. What burr lodged under his saddle? And how was she acting like a spoiled brat? She was the rational one.

  Cody faced her horse and bit her lip. S’mores would be fine at JC’s, but Cody needed to keep an eye on her, and she couldn’t do that five miles away.

  “If you want to back out, I’d understand.”

  LeBeau’s smooth voice drifted over her. She slowly turned and shook her head. “No, I gave my word. And where I come from, it’s as good as a handshake or a signed document.”

  He looked in the direction JC had gone. “Sure sounded like he’s a boyfriend.”

  Cody snickered. “JC, my boyfriend? That’s laughable. He’s nothing more than a friend I’ve known since we were in grade school.”

  LeBeau gave her a skeptical look. “Didn’t look that way to me.”

  “Yeah well, he can act like a jackass when he gets the notion. He’s overprotective to the point of annoyance.”

  He didn’t appear to believe her, but at this point, she didn’t really care. JC had his hang-ups, and she wasn’t at liberty to talk about them.

  “Ready to go?”

  She nodded. “Let me grab a coat and my bag.”

  She donned her WPRA coat and slung the small leather bag she used as a purse over her shoulder. She locked the truck and held up a hand. “Lead the way.”

  Falling in step with him, she followed him to his car. The black Corvette gleamed under the parking lot lights. She still found it difficult to place a man like Remy LeBeau in a car like this. As she reached for the door handle, her George Strait ring tone sounded in her bag. Heaving a sigh, she dug out the cell phone and checked the caller ID. Dad.