Her Man on Three Rivers Ranch

by Stella Bagwell

  It was a tight fit sliding past the ironing board but he slanted the ladder against the wall. Cassie had slipped into the area with him, probably to make sure the ladder was securely propped. She acted like a woman who was used to being on her own and doing for herself.

  Suddenly, though, they were face-to-face and boots to boots. His eyes locked to hers and he could again feel the thrum of chemistry between them. From the surprise in her eyes, he could see she felt it and recognized it, too. Attraction to Cassie Calloway was way too dangerous to even contemplate.

  Again she broke eye contact first and retreated through the opening between the ironing board and the washer and dryer. “I really should close the ironing board,” she said, her cheeks an attractive pink. “But I hate setting it back up every time I want to iron something.”

  “You iron things often?” He was amused by that thought, though he knew his mother was particular about her clothes, too. She’d even ironed pillowcases.

  “I like to be presentable,” she answered, a little defensively. “Besides, my guests often need to iron their clothes after traveling. They have sleeve boards in the closets in their rooms, but sometimes they’re not adequate.”

  “I do have a couple of dress shirts I should iron,” he decided.

  “Do you have many clients in Austin?” she asked.

  “Enough.” He knew to keep personal answers short and concise.

  Cassie waited, possibly to see if he’d tell her more, but he didn’t. Her cheeks still pink, she said, “I’ll get your breakfast ready. Would you like eggs with that cinnamon roll?”

  She was already a good five feet ahead of him as she sped out of the utility room.

  He called after her, “No eggs.” Yet he might have two rolls...if they were good.

  * * *

  Cassie didn’t know what it was about Nash Tremont that sent a tingle up her spine. She usually kept civility and politeness between her and men, especially those she might be attracted to. She had secrets. From experience, she knew she couldn’t share them. That was just the way it was.

  But as Nash sat on the stool watching her ready his breakfast, she felt nervous and a bit excited. As she carried two rolls to the counter, along with two mugs of coffee, she asked, “Are you originally from Oklahoma or Mississippi?”

  Nash’s brows arched. “You didn’t ask Dave Preston that when you called for a reference?”

  “He told you I called?”

  “He did. We’re good friends.”

  Taking a seat next to Nash, careful their elbows didn’t brush, she pulled the sugar bowl over to her mug of coffee. “I learned that from our conversation. He told me you’d been friends for years, that you often helped him out with construction projects around his house, that you were good with his kids and his dog. He gave you an A-plus rating.”

  Nash laughed. “Maybe Dave wasn’t used to giving references. He wanted to make sure he didn’t miss anything.”

  “He acted as a friend should. Anyway, your accent isn’t pure Mississippi, is it?”

  Again Nash gave her a short answer. “I was born and raised in Oklahoma, and if you put too much sugar in that coffee, you’re going to crash later today.”

  She’d been too busy looking at Nash’s thick brown hair, and studying the jut of his jaw. She hadn’t been paying attention to how many teaspoons of sugar she’d put in her coffee. She’d have to drink it no matter how sweet it was. “No, I don’t crash. I just eat more sugar or drink more caffeine.”

  “Let’s see,” Nash said with mock seriousness. “Didn’t your website say something about serving healthy breakfasts and dinners?”

  “That’s for my guests who want healthy. I eat when I can and usually on the go, especially when I do Paint and Sip presentations.”

  “Paint and Sip?” He looked perplexed.

  “It’s a recent wine trend. Local wineries have me in for a Paint and Sip night. I teach their customers how to paint a painting in one night while they sip wine.”

  “What a great marketing tool,” he said.

  “It is, and it brings in extra money.” She always needed to do that. Her life had been that way since she was a child.

  “How about you?” Nash asked. “Are you from Austin?”

  Should she tell him? Why not? After all, he wasn’t from around here. “I grew up not so far away.”

  The cinnamon rolls were round and she took hers apart, licking the sugar glaze off her fingers as she did. When she turned toward Nash, he was studying her.

  “What?”

  “Do you always eat your cinnamon rolls that way?”

  Noticing his was gone with two big bites, well, maybe three, she shrugged. “I prolong the experience. Besides...aren’t sweets better if you can lick them off your fingers?”

  Something glowed in Nash Tremont’s eyes and she wished she hadn’t said that. There was coiled energy in the man and plenty of sensual energy, too.

  As she felt tongue-tied, not knowing what else to say, he drank most of the coffee in his mug. Leaning back a degree, he gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Your cinnamon rolls are delicious and the coffee is just what I needed. If you don’t mind, I’ll take a travel mug full of it along with me again.”

  “I don’t mind. Would you like another cinnamon roll for on the road?”

  “Yes, I would,” he agreed.

  “I’ll wrap one for you. Will you be here for dinner tonight?”

  There was no hesitation in Nash’s voice. “No, I won’t. I’ll be having dinner out.” He’d brought his travel mug with him and now he filled it from the urn in the dining area. “Will more guests be checking in?”

  Cassie had hopped up from her stool and was wrapping a second roll. “Yes. Thank goodness there will be another couple today. Do you like to mingle when you go out of town or take vacations?”

  “I don’t take many vacations.”

  “A workaholic?”

  “Something like that,” he acknowledged.

  Going back to the counter he picked up the roll she’d wrapped in foil. Then he gathered his Stetson from one of the hat racks on the wall and took out his keys. “Thanks again for breakfast. I’ll see you sometime.” Then, without another word, he was gone.

  Cassie had noticed how he avoided personal questions and turned them around on her. She shrugged it off. Maybe Nash Tremont was just a very private man.

  * * *

  Nash gripped the steering wheel of his SUV tighter as he followed the car’s GPS directions to the library. But even with that greater tactile stimulation of his hands, even though his thoughts should be perusing the dates of the archives he wanted to look up, he felt bothered by what had happened at the bed-and-breakfast. He shook his left hand, then he put it back on the wheel and shook his right. Still he could feel a tingle in his fingers from the warmth of touching Cassie Calloway. It was absolutely crazy.

  He hadn’t even looked at a woman with real interest since Sara. His bitterness over what had happened with her had leveled off into disappointment. The divorce rate among cops was well above the average. He’d told himself that over and over again. He’d told himself that his work was enough.

  Suddenly his dashboard lit up. A female computer voice told him, “Mom is calling.”

  He reached to the dash and pressed a button on the digital screen. “Hi, Mom.” He’d called her when he’d reached Austin so she wouldn’t worry.

  “I thought I’d give you a call before we both got involved in our days.”

  He checked the time on the dash. “This is early for you, isn’t it?” It was only 8 a.m.

  “I’m going into work early today, lots of new car policies to write up. Must be spring. Drivers like to spruce up their cars or buy a new one.”

  Nash smiled. His mother worked for an insurance company that wrote car and homeo
wner policies. She’d been working there for years and seemed to enjoy it.

  “How do you like Austin?” she asked.

  It seemed like an idle question but he knew she was fishing. “You didn’t tell anybody I was coming here, did you?”

  “Who would I tell?” she asked innocently.

  “If anyone calls from my office in Biloxi, you tell them I went camping in the backwoods, okay? And if Ben Fortune phones again, stick with the story that you don’t know where I am.” Some of his half siblings had tried to get in touch by mail and phone, but he’d ignored their requests.

  Nash heard his mom let out a sigh. “I still don’t understand why you can’t be honest about what you’re doing at work.”

  “Because I’m not supposed to be doing it.” He’d told her this before when he’d explained why he was spending time in Austin.

  “This is on your own time. Why would anybody care?”

  “There’s a hierarchy. The chief told me to drop this, so he’d be very unhappy if he knew I didn’t.”

  “I get that. Are you sure you don’t want to look up your father while you’re there?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “I told you before, he’s not as terrible as the media makes him sound.”

  His mother had her memories, but Nash knew the facts. Gerald Robinson had supposedly walked away from the Fortune money and built himself up from scratch. But he’d had many indiscretions along his road to success. Most of them had made their way into the media. Nash still couldn’t believe his mother wasn’t bitter about what had happened to her. Gerald had been married when he had an affair with Marybeth Tremont, but she’d had no expectations going into the affair. He’d given her that old line about his wife being a gold digger and not understanding him. But a man who cheated was a man who cheated. However, Gerald’s indiscretions were the reason Nash had so many half brothers and sisters he’d never met.

  His mother’s voice came through the speaker again. “Is what you’re doing dangerous?”

  “No, it’s not dangerous. I’m just rounding up background information and this is the best place to do it. With the Robinsons living here, I can nose around, listen to gossip, maybe even get close to them without anybody knowing who I am.”

  “I want you to be careful,” his mother warned him.

  “I’m always careful.”

  He thought he heard her snort before she said, “You know Oklahoma isn’t quite as far from Austin as Biloxi is. If you wrap up early what you’re doing, you can fly home and visit.”

  He didn’t get home as often as he thought he should. But there were memories there he didn’t want to revisit. Still, his mother was right. If he did wrap this up quickly, he should fly to Oklahoma for a visit.

  “Let me see what happens here, Mom. I took a month of vacation.”

  “You know, when I tell you to be careful this time, my advice isn’t simply about being careful physically.”

  “What are you worried about?”

  “I’m worried if you do run into a half brother or sister, or your father, you’ll leave Austin, stay removed from people who are your family and have many regrets. But I’m also worried that if you somehow make contact, you’ll get hurt.”

  “I won’t get hurt. I don’t have any expectations. This is an investigation about wrongdoing...and fraud, Mom. That’s it.”

  “If you say so.”

  His mother often used that phrase when she didn’t agree with him. He knew it and she knew it.

  “Are you going to stop for breakfast instead of just drinking coffee?” she asked.

  She also knew him too well. “I actually did have breakfast this morning. The bed-and-breakfast served cinnamon rolls.”

  “And? How were they?”

  “Cassie gave me one to bring along for a snack.” He said the words without thinking, and the picture of her unwinding her cinnamon roll and licking the icing from her fingers made him almost break out in a sweat.

  “Cassie?”

  Uh-oh. He should have been watching his tongue. This investigation really did have him rattled. “She owns the bed-and-breakfast.”

  “Is she old and gray?”

  Again, as if a photo flashed in front of his eyes, he saw Cassie’s pretty face, her long brown wavy hair, her chocolate-brown eyes. “She’s probably about my age, but do not make anything of it.”

  “Didn’t you say the bed-and-breakfast offers breakfast and dinner?”

  “It does if anyone signs up for it.”

  “You’re a growing boy. Take advantage of it.”

  What his mother was really saying was that he should sit down for meals, get to know people and not isolate himself. Isolation not only kept his job safe but his heart, too. You couldn’t spill something you weren’t supposed to when you weren’t around anyone to spill it to.

  “I know you,” she went on. “You’ll do what you want to do in spite of what I say. But I love you anyway. I’ve got to go now or I’ll be late. You take care and stay out of trouble.”

  His mother still spoke to him as if he were sixteen. But they’d been through his lifetime together, watching out for each other. He loved her dearly. “You have a good day, Mom. I’ll let you know if I can come for a visit.”

  His mother ended the call. When he thought about their conversation, he remembered her advice.

  Should he have dinner with Cassie tonight?

  Copyright © 2018 by Harlequin Books S.A.

  ISBN-13: 9781488093524

  Her Man on Three Rivers Ranch

  Copyright © 2018 by Stella Bagwell

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