“I’ll see you at Lucky and Cassie’s engagement party,” Helene said, and she would have just slipped away if Logan hadn’t stopped her with a question.
“You’re going to that?” He didn’t add a “why,” but his tone certainly implied it.
“My mother was invited, and I’m her plus-one.”
Great. This was Della’s doing. Except Della had probably invited her mother more out of a social obligation. She likely hadn’t realized that the woman would be bringing Helene. Since it would seem petty to un-invite them, Logan and Reese would be forced into another uncomfortable situation.
“Are you ready to get out of here?” Logan asked Reese.
She was hugging Jimena goodbye before Logan even finished asking. He hated that he’d put her through this, and he had every intention of making it up to her. Jimena didn’t seem to mind, either, being left behind, because she started line dancing with the Nederland sisters. Those women were bad news, but Logan figured Jimena wasn’t on anyone’s good-news list, either.
Logan threaded Reese and him through the crowds, speaking to those that he’d missed, and he made his way to the door. He didn’t release the breath he’d been holding until he was outside.
“Are you okay?” Reese asked.
She looked good enough to kiss so that’s what he did, and he could almost feel the tension slide right out of him. Whatever this was between Reese and him, even if it was just temporary sex, he was going to take it and not look back.
Logan was still kissing her when he led her to his truck, and it was because of the lip-lock that he didn’t see the person leaning against his door until she moved. It was a woman smoking a cigarette, and when they approached, she flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it out with the toe of her stiletto.
“Good to see you, Reese,” the woman said.
Reese had gone stiff a couple of times in the reception, but it was nothing compared to this. Every muscle in her body seemed to turn to rock.
“You know her?” Logan asked when Reese didn’t say anything and didn’t move.
“Of course she knows me,” the woman purred. She went to Reese, pulled her into her arms. “I’m her mother.”
* * *
REESE HAD HOPED that the worst part of the night was over, but she’d obviously been wrong. If she knew her mother, things were about to get much, much worse.
The first thing Reese did was untangle herself from her mother’s embrace. It was as fake as the smile on her face, and after seeing so many fake smiles at the reception, Reese knew one when she saw it. Of course, anytime her mother smiled, it was likely just to play a con or because she was drunk. Since Reese didn’t smell any booze on her breath, it had to be the latter.
“Why are you here?” Reese snapped. She also checked her purse to make sure her mother hadn’t already managed to snatch her wallet. It was there, for now.
“Where are your manners?” Her mother turned to Logan, extended her hand for him to shake. “I’m Vickie Stephenson. Reese probably hasn’t mentioned me—”
“She has.” And he left it that. His tone, however, implied he knew all about her criminal ways.
“That’s a surprise,” her mother said. “Reese doesn’t usually tell her…friends about me.” And yes, she actually glanced at Logan’s crotch.
In addition to being a con woman, her mother slept around a lot. With anybody. One of her favorite things to do was to seduce Reese’s boyfriends, and that had started when Reese was a teenager.
“Watch your wallet and your zipper,” Reese warned Logan, and she hated that she even had to bring it up. Still, she didn’t want him to be robbed. Or groped. Both were possibilities.
“Why are you here?” Reese repeated.
Of course, she could have added a bunch more questions to that including but not limited to, how did you find me and what do you want? Because if Vickie was here, she definitely wanted something.
“Can’t I visit my own daughter without my motives being questioned?”
Vickie was using her “high-end” voice tonight. She had many voices and used them to fit the situation. She apparently thought she shouldn’t sound like a thug or a hick around Logan. That included dressing high-end. Or her interpretation of it, anyway. She was wearing a black skirt with a leopard print top.
“No, I’ll always question your motives,” Reese quickly assured her. “Whenever I see you, I know you’ve brought trouble with you.”
Vickie made a sound of frustration that couldn’t possibly be genuine because she had to have known Reese wouldn’t trust her. Not after their last encounter. She’d taken Reese’s keys, broken into the restaurant where she worked and stolen thousands of dollars’ worth of knives. Since there probably wasn’t a black market for them, Vickie had likely just done it to prove to Reese that she could screw up her life.
Reese had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach that Vickie was here to do that all over again.
“Can we go somewhere and talk?” Vickie asked. She motioned up the street. “Maybe we can go to that pretty Victorian place where Logan has his office? I’ll bet you have some good whiskey in there, and I could use a drink. Could use some other things, too.” Vickie glanced at his crotch again.
Good grief. The woman was sixteen years older than Logan, and every one of her forty-nine years showed on her face. She would have had better luck picking up Greg the clown than a guy like Logan.
“How did you find out I was here?” Reese asked.
“Does it matter?”
Well, it mattered even more now that Vickie had dodged the question. “Did Chucky tell you?” Not that Chucky would have just volunteered information like that, but it was possible Chucky had found her and then mentioned it.
“Chucky,” Vickie repeated. “Yes. He told me.”
For a woman who made her living doing cons, that wasn’t a convincing lie. But the problem with Vickie was if she made it seem like a lie, then it wouldn’t put the blame back on Chucky, and it didn’t let Reese know who’d really ratted her out.
Reese glanced at Logan, and even though he didn’t say anything, she thought they might be thinking the same thing.
Helene could have done this.
After all, Helene had known about Reese being number one in her culinary class, and that wasn’t even something Jimena would have mentioned—since Jimena had graduated last. It made sense that Helene would have Reese investigated, and if so she could have been the one to find Vickie.
And bring her here to Spring Hill.
Where Helene could see how much trouble she could stir up.
“Can we have that talk now?” Vickie asked. Judging from her tone, the pot stirring was about to start. “Maybe in private? Maybe over drinks? Or would you rather we just chat in front of your friend?”
“I know about Reese’s past,” Logan volunteered.
“Do you, now?” Vickie said in a tone that implied Logan didn’t know everything.
And he didn’t.
But her mother did.
Vickie didn’t have to mention Spenser’s name, but it was there, part of the pot stirring, and it wasn’t something Reese was ready to share with Logan. She might never be ready for that.
Reese turned to him, but Logan must have known what she was going to say because he shook his head. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to be alone with your mother.”
It wasn’t, but she didn’t have a lot of options here. Reese kissed him but kept it chaste and brief. “I’ll take my mother to my place and will call you when we’re done.”
“I can drive you there,” he said, taking out his keys.
But Reese shook her head. “We can walk.” She didn’t want her mother around Logan for another minute. “Don’t worry. This won’t take long.”
Considering that she’d started out with a string of lies when she met Logan, Reese hated to lie again, but she was pretty sure this would take more time than “not long.”
Reese started the questions as soon as Logan walked away from them, heading for his truck. “Did Helene Langford contact you?”
Vickie made a show of thinking about that. She made a hmm-ing sound and tapped her chin. “Doesn’t sound familiar. Refresh my memory.”
Reese didn’t bother. Even if her mother admitted it was Helene, it could still be a lie, but Reese did need to check with Jimena to make sure she hadn’t let anything slip.
“You got a nice thing going here,” Vickie said when they reached the Bluebonnet Inn. “Nice dress, and that cowboy you were kissing is dreamy.”
Coming from Vickie, it sounded perverse, and it would no doubt lead to demanding that Reese let her in on some of that dreaminess.
“Well, this is a disappointment,” Vickie said when Reese unlocked her room and they went in. “I’d have thought you’d be staying in the cowboy’s fancy house.”
“Even the cowboy doesn’t stay in his fancy house. And this place suits me just fine since I won’t be in town much longer.”
“Oh?” Vickie went to the kitchenette and would have helped herself to a glass of wine from the fridge if Reese hadn’t stepped in front of her.
Reese didn’t dare move the envelope that Logan had given her. Didn’t even glance at it or else her mother might have realized it was something important.
“This isn’t a social call,” Reese reminded her, “so just tell me why you’re here and then leave.”
Vickie certainly didn’t move any faster. Maybe she would, though, if Reese kept blocking her from getting her booze fix. She would also block the bathroom. And watch to make sure Vickie didn’t steal anything. Of course, that was the advantage of not having much because it meant there was nothing much to steal.
Nothing but the watch.
It was the one thing Reese had managed to keep secret from her, and that was in part thanks to her grandfather’s warning. “Don’t let your mother get her greedy hands on this,” he’d told Reese.
Even though she’d been only twelve, she had known it was sound advice. Because although the watch itself probably wasn’t worth much, Vickie would want it simply to pawn it for whatever few bucks she could get for it.
Heirlooms had a short shelf life in the Stephenson family.
“You’re leaving, you say?” Vickie asked, her gaze combing the room. Thankfully, it was so small the combing didn’t take long. “It appears you’ve got a good thing with the cowboy. Don’t know why you’d just give that up.”
“I flip burgers at a café, and I live here.” Enough said about that. Not a dream job or dream apartment. “The cowboy is temporary just like everything else in my life. You know I don’t stay in one place for long. In fact, I’m already antsy.”
Reese was afraid that sounded like the huge lie that it was. The not getting antsy was a problem. Because she really wasn’t in a hurry to leave. Or at least she hadn’t been until Vickie had shown up.
Vickie finally sat down on the love seat. “So, what kind of game are you running on the McCords?”
“No game.”
Vickie didn’t believe her, of course. “Well, I want a cut of it.”
There. It’d taken way too long for Vickie to finally spell out why she was here. “There is no cut because I’m not getting a dime from Logan.”
Her mother made a sound of disgust. “That’ll have to change. I’ll expect payment, and I expect it by tomorrow morning. I have places to be, people to see.”
Everything inside Reese went still. “Or?” Because with her mother, there was always an “or.”
“Or I’ll tell Logan about Spenser.”
Reese tried not to react. Was sure she failed. Since she didn’t trust her voice, she just stayed quiet and listened as she could feel the proverbial rug being yanked from beneath her feet.
“I know you haven’t told him,” Vickie went on. “This town is a hotbed of gossip, and I would have heard it by now. By the way, you don’t look pregnant.”
“I’m not. Hotbeds aren’t always accurate.”
“That’s a shame. You could have gotten a bundle for a McCord heir.”
Reese didn’t even bother telling her that she would never have a baby just to get money from the father. When and if she had children, it would be for all the right reasons. There wasn’t much right about her situation with Logan.
Nothing other than the attraction.
But even Logan wouldn’t want to be ruined because of this heat between them. In another month or so, maybe less, he’d find another source of heat.
“So, let me get this straight,” Reese said. “If I don’t get you some money, you’ll tell Logan about my past?”
She nodded. Smiled. Oh, no. That was her snake-oil smile. “And I’ll call Logan’s business associates. Think how all those ranchers with their down-home values will react to Logan carrying on with the likes of you. I can destroy him.”
Reese wished she could argue with that. She couldn’t.
Vickie stood. “I’ll give you twelve hours,” she added. “If I don’t have ten thousand dollars by then, I start making those calls and talking to people.”
Reese blocked her path when Vickie reached for the door. She knew she had zero bargaining power with this woman. And the calls might not even do the damage that Vickie was claiming they could.
Still, Reese didn’t want to take the chance.
“Please don’t do this,” Reese said, and yes, she was begging.
But got exactly the reaction she expected. Vickie’s smile only widened. “All right, I’ll give you twelve and a half hours. I’ll meet you at the café then. Oh, and bake me something special to go along with the money.”
God, Reese couldn’t stop this. Well, not without hitting Vickie with a skillet and tying her up in the closet. Extreme, yes, but she was furious enough to want to do it. Of course, she’d been wanting to hit her with something for a while now.
Reese stepped aside and let her leave, knowing there was nothing she could do to stop this train that was speeding right toward Logan.
Nothing she could do here in Spring Hill, anyway.
She grabbed her backpack and headed for the door. Once she was far away from here, Reese could call the same business associates of Logan’s and assure them that she was no longer part of his life.
The first tear slid down her cheek before Reese even made it to the back stairs.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LOGAN SAT IN his truck and watched the Bluebonnet Inn. The light was still on in Reese’s apartment, but he couldn’t see anyone moving around in there from the window. Of course, it didn’t take much moving around for Vickie to spell out whatever blackmail scheme she had in mind.
Something that involved him, no doubt.
He’d read her arrest record, and her favorite con was to get friendly with a senior citizen and then rob him blind. The coziness often involved sex, and in many cases, the victim had to be coerced into bringing charges against her because they were either too embarrassed or had fallen for her. Which meant there were likely countless victims out there.
Including Reese.
Reese wouldn’t see herself as a victim, though, but she wasn’t nearly as tough or guarded as she wanted people to think.
He frowned.
Since when had he become an expert on the inner workings of Reese’s mind? Yes, he knew how to bring her to an orgasm, but that hardly made him a Reese expert. Still, he sat and watched, his stomach in knots over the idea that Vickie would use him to get to her own daughter.
His phone buzzed, and Logan nearly sprained his hand yanking it from his pocket. Not Reese, tho
ugh. Lucky. He considered letting it go to voice mail, but that would only unnecessarily worry his family.
“I’m fine,” Logan answered right off to save them some time.
“Good to hear it. Since you’re with Reese, I figured she’d kiss any boo-boos you got from Helene’s chatter.”
“I don’t get boo-boos. If you’re not calling about my well-being, then why are you calling? And if it’s about Helene, save your breath.”
“It’s about clown shit.”
Logan was sure he made a face. “Have clowns been crapping in the pastures, too?”
“No, but one clown crapped his pants. Greg. Apparently, the Nederland brothers followed him out of the reception and gave him a butt-whipping on your behalf.”
Hell’s Texas bells. The Nederlands were hardly champions of justice. They were three linebacker-sized brothers, probably suffering from some kind of glandular issues because of their size, and they liked to do two things—drink and fight. They had three sisters, same glandular problem, who were even worse than the brothers. Greg was lucky the Nederland males had been the ones to go after him.
“Is Greg okay?” Logan asked.
“Other than crapping his pants, some bruises and a missing tooth, he should be fine. But the Nederland brothers have him pinned down on the ground in the back of the civic center and have said they won’t let him up until you give them the say-so.”
“Call the cops,” Logan instructed. “I don’t want to go back to the civic center. I’m tied up.”
“Oh, yeah? Didn’t know Reese was into that sort of thing.” And he probably wasn’t joking. “Someone did call the cops, and that’s why I’m calling you. Deputy Davy is on the way.”
Logan didn’t just groan. He cursed. Deputy Davy Devine looked like a zombie and had the IQ of a shrimp. He could start a brawl just by showing up on the scene. Greg could get seriously hurt since he wasn’t much of a fighter. Heck, lots of people could get hurt.
Blame It on the Cowboy Page 17
