Radio Rose (Change of Heart Cowboys Book 1)

by Stephanie Berget

  “Something already happened, and you caused it. Now, help me get out of here.” The pitiful waif was gone and a small, cute pit bull was in its place. “What were you doing on the old highway at two a.m.?”

  Adam stood looking out the window, staring at the parking lot, as he considered her question. What the hell! His business wasn’t a secret anyway. “I have to meet with my grandfather’s lawyers.”

  “At two in the morning? Those are strange working hours.”

  He was growing exasperated with her, concussion or not. “The meeting is set for tomorrow . . . no, make that today,” he snapped. “And if you have to know, I couldn’t eat, and I couldn’t sleep. I thought about drinking, but I found out long ago the hangover isn’t worth it, so I ended up leaving the motel about midnight and driving around. I didn’t realize how late it was.” The medicinal smell and size of the tiny room was closing in on him.

  “There’s not a lot to see driving around Tullyville. You must have covered the same streets six times each at least.”

  “Yeah, well, I wasn’t taking in the scenery. I had a lot on my mind. The meeting is for the reading of my grandfather’s will.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m not. We weren’t close.” He shook his head, not knowing why he was telling her this. Adam turned on her, the next words spoken through clenched jaws. “I haven’t seen him in almost ten years, and that wasn’t long enough.”

  “Whoa, you lost me there. I take it you don’t, uh, didn’t get along with him?” she asked.

  “My grandfather was Simon Sylvester Howell.” There, he’d said the name he hadn’t uttered and barely thought of for almost ten years.

  “I’ve heard that name. He owns most of Tullyville, doesn’t he, and that big mansion on the hill? Boy, I’d like to see the inside of that place.”

  “That was Simon. He was also bat-shit crazy and mean as they come. I haven’t been in the same state with him since I was eighteen years old, and there isn’t enough money in this world to get me into that mausoleum again. I wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for a little legal problem between us.” He wasn’t as immune to Simon’s memory as he’d thought. His heart double-thumped against his chest just talking about old gramps.

  “You’re wanted by the law?” She smiled for the first time. “You don’t look like a criminal.”

  “I’m not a criminal.” His mouth turned up on one corner in a rueful smile. “Well, I guess technically I am, but I thought the statute of limitations had run out. Turns out I was wrong. I took two hundred dollars from him when I was a teenager. He used the warrant to keep his thumb on me. He’s set me up.”

  “Okay, you’re not a criminal, and he’s maybe set you up to inherit a lot of money. I still don’t see the problem.” Rose shook her head with infinite care.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I have all day,” she said. “But first, hand me a glass of water, please.”

  Adam pushed the tray closer to the bed. He picked up the pitcher and then poured until the plastic cup was half full.

  Slipping the bendy straw into her mouth, Rose drank several long gulps then held out the cup and asked for a refill.

  As he poured again, he said, “Simon demanded I be here for the reading of his will, or he’d have me prosecuted for the thefts.”

  “After all this time, how could he do that? Why would he do that?”

  “Because he was narcissistic and vindictive. He’s spent years trying to get back at me for not being his exact version of a perfect grandson.” Adam’s voice rose. He stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets to hide the trembling then took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “It’s got something to do with some businesses.”

  “What’s got to do with business? I’m confused.” She tugged up the neckline of her hospital gown, trying to cover more of her shoulder.

  “The will.” He bit off the words as if they were coated in curdled milk.

  “So he left you businesses after being estranged for, let’s see, over ten years? Weird.”

  “That’s my grandfather.”

  “Are all the businesses in this area? Did he leave you any cash?”

  “Are you this nosy with everyone you meet?” Adam said, suddenly uncomfortable. He stared at her. She hadn’t seemed like a gold digger until just this moment, and he didn’t want to view her that way.

  “I’m just curious. I’ve never met anyone as rich as Mr. Howell, and I don’t have anything else to do right now besides ask questions.”

  A slight smile pushed its way past his reservations as he nodded. “Unfortunately they are in Tullyville, and since they put the new highway in, Tullyville has become a ghost town.”

  “Hey, that’s my ghost town,” Rose said.

  “Which doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

  “Well, it has something to do with me. Do you know the names of the businesses?” she asked again.

  “Over the phone, the lawyer mentioned a radio station, a café and a hotel or motel. I go in later today for the official reading.”

  Rose was silent, staring at the glass in her hands. She put it on the tray then raised her gaze to him. “Do you mind if I ask one more question?”

  “Why the hell not,” Adam said, a long sigh pushing past his lips. “You’re going to ask anyway. You’ve been talking non-stop since you woke up, saw me in here and realized you had an audience.”

  “Hey, this involves my home and maybe my job. Wouldn’t you ask questions?” She paused before she continued, turning her dark chocolate eyes on him. “Can’t you just sell everything?”

  “First of all, they aren’t worth anything. It’s a game Simon’s playing, but I’m not joining in this time. He’s not dragging me down again. I’m out of here as soon as you find someone who’ll take care of you.”

  Rose sat up then started to climb out of bed. “But you can’t leave. That could be my radio station.” She barely got the words out before she slapped her hand over her mouth and moaned. Grabbing her head with both hands, she sank down onto the pillow pulling gulps of air into her lungs.

  Adam hadn’t thought her face could get any paler, but her creamy complexion faded to gray. Without thinking, he reached over and trailed his fingers across her forehead, checking for a fever. Her soft skin was warm, but not hot.

  Rose closed her eyes and counted each breath out loud until the color trickled back into her skin. On the final deep breath, she opened her eyes and looked at him.

  With a start, he pulled his hand away.

  Her grin looked as tired as she did, but the questions kept coming. “What about the other businesses? Is he just giving them to you?”

  “Don’t know.” Adam said. “I haven’t had time to do any research. I don’t want to do any research. What I want to do is get the hell out of this town and never come back.”

  “You are going to the meeting first, right? Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think. Maybe he had a change of heart. People do when they know they’re dying.” She wiggled against the bed, trying to sit straighter, but her arms trembled with fatigue. The only thing that moved was the sheet bunching beneath her hands.

  Her movements caused the left side of her gown to slide off her shoulder, and his eyes followed it down. Who’d have thought a hospital gown could be so damn sexy?

  She cleared her throat, and he raised his gaze to see her watching him. What had she said? A change of heart?

  “My Grandfather had the temperament of a rattlesnake. You have to have a heart in the first place to be able to change it.”

  “I don’t know about the other businesses, but KTLY is the only locally owned radio station in the area.” She peeked from between the fingers gently massaging her temples, her lips curving upward. “If you were an alien, you could use your super powers to help us out. You aren’t, are you?”

  She was smart and sassy, really would be a handful. Of course, she could be worth it. Those lips, rosy pink and hard-to
-resist kissable, were definitely enticing.

  He wrenched his gaze away. The woman was in a hospital bed.

  Adam hauled his attention back to business, but not soon enough. He’d always been pretty good at talking his way out of sticky situations. He’d had lots of practice with his grandfather. But somewhere between Rose’s explanations, point-blank threats and kissable lips, she managed to run circles around him. In the end, she convinced him to sign on as her caregiver.

  Mostly, he did it out of guilt.

  She was right. If he hadn't stepped out in front of her car, she wouldn't be in this situation. She looked small and pitiful, but as he found out, she was anything but helpless when she really wanted to get her way.

  Rose took care of the paperwork as the doctor went over her schedule of medications with Adam. If he could make a list for her to follow, she might be okay by herself.

  It took several hours for the hospital to get all their forms in a row, but finally a nurse put Rose in a wheel chair and rolled her to the front door of the hospital. Adam took her arm, helped her into the car and buckled her seat belt for the second time in as many days.

  Hurrying around to the driver’s seat, he settled in and moved the seat back as far as it would go. He’d panicked last night and hadn’t taken the time to adjust for his long legs. Today, he took the time.

  When he turned the key, the engine roared to life.

  Rose tried to sit up, startled. “Did you have any trouble getting my car to start this morning?”

  “Not at all. Just turned the key, and she fired right up,” he said. “These Geos are nice little cars.” As he pulled to the edge of the parking lot and asked, “Where to, sweetheart?”

  -#-

  Was this man serious? Geos in general and Miss Cool in particular, were a pain in the ass. They had no power and only started on a whim. And—sweetheart? Really?

  Her eyes narrowed, and she was about to blast him about the sweetheart comment when a wave of dizziness hit her again. “Just take Third Street South to Baker, go a half mile and turn right on Sunshine Lane. My house is the white one with pink shutters.”

  “Shouldn’t be too hard to find. I imagine not too many have pink trim,” he said, looking over at her with a smile.

  “Nope, the whole block is pink. All of Tullyville is color-coded. Didn’t you know?”

  At his incredulous look, she almost laughed, but her head pounded like a jackhammer and her throat was as dry as desert dust. The pills the nurse had given her to swallow just before she left the hospital hadn't started working yet, and before she could get home to bed, they had to fill her prescriptions. She wasn’t going to make it.

  She reclined the seat and tried to find a comfortable position, but the suspension in Miss Cool needed work. Lots of things about Miss Cool needed work but as long as she ran, Rose postponed.

  They bounced through a pothole then drifted to a stop. She turned her head to see her house.

  Why did she feel like she was forgetting something?

  Damn! “I should have told you how to get to the pharmacy. I need to fill this prescription.” She waved the white slip of paper. The thought of driving back across town made her head feel like a ticking time bomb, just short of detonation.

  “Let's get you inside, and I'll go while you rest. I don't have a car, so I'll trade you the use of yours for helping out.”

  She gave him a slight smile. What a man. He was not only great looking; he was going to let her sleep while he took care of everything. Being taken care of was just about the nicest thing anyone had done for her since, well, since she didn’t want to think about since when.

  Adam helped Rose into the house, and she collapsed onto the couch. She heard him walk away, and when he returned carrying a pillow and her grandmother’s quilt, he tucked her in. She tried to tell him how grateful she was, but lost the battle to sleep.

  Rose opened her eyes to find herself on her own couch firmly tucked in with her favorite quilt. The lights were off, and the blinds were pulled so it was pleasantly dark. Her pills were just beginning to wear off, and she could feel her headache picking up steam.

  She wondered if Adam was really coming back or if he’d dropped her off and stolen her car. After all, she didn’t know the man from . . . well, Adam.

  What was she thinking bringing home a perfect stranger? Must be the knock on her head. Not that she could do anything about him right now anyway. She wasn't sure she could get to her feet let alone to the phone.

  She turned her head slowly and saw he'd left her a glass of water and some crackers on the side table. She'd have to give him some brownie points for the treat even if he did turn out to be a car thief.

  He’d said he’d stolen money from his grandfather years ago. Then again, Miss Cool seemed to like him best, so maybe it was fate. She took a few sips of water and laid her head back down.

  With no effort at all, she slid away into the darkness again.

  Chapter Three

  Adam’s heart beat in time to the AC/DC song playing on the car radio. The closer he got to the lawyer’s office, the harder it was to breathe. He couldn't imagine what his grandfather could do to him from the grave, but he had no doubt about his power.

  That old man had been very inventive when it came to punishment. As a small child, Adam remembered scrambling to stay out of the way of f his grandfather. He’d never known whether the man would ignore him or mete out punishment like other parents gave hugs. The smallest infraction might be met with serious consequences.

  He’d turned eighteen in March of his senior year in high school and dropped out of school the next day, just two months shy of graduation. If old Simon had been an ordinary man, he’d thrown a fit. Instead, he cut Adam out of his will and disowned him.

  With the clothes on his back, two hundred dollars he’d stolen from Simon's wallet and his grandfather's brand new 1998 Cadillac El Dorado, Adam left Tullyville and swore he'd never return.

  He’d supported himself very well building houses and found his passion riding bucking horses. It gave him great satisfaction knowing his becoming a rodeo cowboy would give his grandfather night sweats.

  Nearly ten years had passed since he’d walked away from his only blood relative. Ten years of living his own life and making his own decisions and being accountable to no one.

  The letter from his grandfather had arrived at his house two weeks ago. Simon had tracked him down.

  According to the legal paperwork, the auto theft charges were still valid. His grandfather had included a copy of the signed statement authorizing Police Chief Ramsey to drop the charges if Adam came to the reading of the will. If he didn't return, the charges were to be pursued.

  The cover letter from the attorney informed him Simon had left orders for the letter to be sent on his death.

  Adam was shocked, not by the fact that his grandfather was dead, but by the fact that Simon hadn’t bought everlasting life from the devil himself.

  Holding the charges for years might not be exactly legal. He might be able to beat them, but it would take time and money, which he didn’t have. So here he was, back in Tullyville.

  If there hadn't been an outstanding arrest warrant on him for stealing the money and the car, he wouldn't be back now. Simon had waited years for the perfect moment to force Adam into compliance, and at his death, judgment day had arrived.

  The elevator doors opened into the luxurious offices of Bailey and Anson.

  “Adam Cameron,” he said to the receptionist. “I have an appointment with Mr. Bailey.” Adam glanced around the room.

  Being Simon Howell’s attorney obviously paid well. Mahogany wainscoting topped with lustrous, emerald green wallpaper was the appropriate backdrop for oil paintings featuring nineteenth century hunting scenes. The room was a bit of a cliché, but then so was Robert Bailey, Attorney at Law.

  “Please have a seat. I’ll let him know you’re here, Mr. Cameron.” The woman had to be in her sixties, with iron-grey hair
cut short. She picked up the phone and after a short conversation, pointed to the young woman coming down the hall. “Mr. Bailey’s secretary will show you where to go.”

  “I’m Ms. Watts. Please come with me.” The statuesque brunette turned and led him down the hall.

  As he entered the office, Adam recognized Bailey, the man who’d always made sure Simon could do what he wanted, mostly legally. It was close to ten years since he’d seen Simon’s lawyer, but the man hadn’t changed. Even his three-piece suit and bow tie looked the same.

  “I see you’re still doing the old man's bidding, even when he’s in the grave.”

  The rotund little man stood and strode from behind the desk, adjusting his vest as he reached to shake Adam’s hand. “Welcome back, Adam. It’s good to see you after all this time.” Gesturing to a high-backed leather chair, he said, “Have a seat. We’re waiting for one more person to arrive then we'll get started.”

  “I don't suppose you could just tell me what's in there,” Adam asked, pointing to the pile of papers on the desk. “So I can go?”

  “Your grandfather left detailed instructions, and I’m bound to fulfill his wishes, no matter what my personal views on the subject. I'm truly sorry.”

  From the look on the man’s face, Adam thought he really might be sorry to be involved.

  After a soft knock, Ms. Watts entered followed by a woman in a dark gray power suit, her blonde hair scraped back from her face and wound into a tight bun at the base of her neck. Her lips were pressed into a compact line, and a rapid tick flickered by her left eye. From the sour look on her face, she didn’t seem to be any happier to be here than he did.

  Mr. Bailey shook the woman’s hand then turned to Adam. “Welcome Ms. Keeler. I’d like to introduce you to Adam Howell, Mr. Howell’s grandson. Adam, this is Ms. Lillian Keeler. Ms. Keeler has been with your grandfather as his secretary for, what is it, seven years now?”

  No wonder she had such a sour look. It was a wonder she’d survived that long.

  “Yes, seven years,” she said without looking at Adam.