by Stacy Dawn
Rounding the third oil drum, Mistrunner lost his footing and went down. Grey grabbed the fence, watching in slow motion as Free was flung from the saddle. “Her foot,” he yelled to Dusty as he sped for the gate, his brother close behind.
Her foot was caught in the stirrup, leaving her body and head to bounce off the ground like a rag doll’s.
By the time he threw the gate open, a rodeo clown had grabbed the horse and Free was clear of the saddle. He couldn’t see his sister, though, for the large cowboy knelt in front of her.
“Free,” Dusty called as they knelt next to her.
Grey barely had time to recognize Zane Malone holding his sister’s bruise-tendered head before the paramedic shoved him away and held a stethoscope to Free’s chest.
He stood, but refused to move any further.
“Pulse and respiration are good,” the lead medic told his partner. He moved to check her pupils just as Free’s lashes fluttered open. She looked at Zane, blinked, and shut her eyes again.
“I’m here, darlin’. You’re gonna be just fine.” The cowboy brushed her hair from her cheek.
Grey exchanged a frown with Dusty. What the hell was going on between Zane and his sister?
Every protective instinct in Grey went on high alert as he watched the medics transfer Free onto a backboard and then to a gurney.
“Don’t,” Grey said, halting Dusty’s fisted form with a grasp of his brother’s arm. “Right now we have to think of Free.” He let go and stared at his sister and the cowboy at her side. “I’ll drive, you figure out the best way to kill him...slowly.”
****
“Come on, sweetie. Don’t do this to me now.” The left side of Elizabeth’s hair weighed heavy with the soapy droplets as the careful time she’d taken on her own appearance vanished in an energetic slap of Gretal’s hand on the water.
“We gotta get these suds off of you. Daddy’s waiting.”
Daddy. The word felt foreign on her tongue, but somehow right, too. She still worried what Grey would think, but in her heart, she knew this was the right thing to do. He had a right to know about his daughter.
Granny O’Leary’s grandfather clock chimed half past the hour and Elizabeth winced. Not only were they already a half-hour late, she still had to get them dressed—and her hair fixed again. Somehow a simple dinner of grilled cheese sandwiches and salad turned into a cafeteria food fight when grabby little hands discovered squeezing the salad dressing bottle was more fun than eating.
Another forty-five minutes passed before they left the house. By the time she found a parking spot on the busy rodeo grounds, got Gretal out of the car seat, and pushed through the crowd to the arena fence line, her stomach was churning.
What was she going to say? “Hey, Grey, sorry I’m late. Oh, by the way, this is your daughter.” Yeah, like that’ll go over well.
Elizabeth frantically looked around as Gretal played with the ends of her hair. So many cowboys, both riders and spectators, but no Grey.
She checked her watch and cringed. What if he’d given up waiting? What if he thought she was pulling a disappearing act again? The pit of her stomach burned and she placed a hand over her abdomen in a vain attempt to settle it.
Hiking Gretal higher on her hip, she scouted around another few minutes before grabbing onto a rodeo clown’s sleeve. “Excuse me?”
He stopped, tipped his hat, and smiled at Gretal. “What can I do for you two pretty ladies?”
Gretal giggled at the feather he took from his hat and tickled beneath her chin. All fun and well, but Elizabeth was on a mission. “Did you happen to see Grey Wulfsen around tonight?”
The clown pointed the feather to the parking lot. “He ran after that gal from the barrel races,” he said distractedly as he fluttered the plume over Gretal’s nose until she giggled again. “What a cutie.”
“Hey, Mikey. You’re up soon,” someone called out.
The young clown stuffed the feather back in his hat, waved to Gretal and jogged off.
Elizabeth’s stomach dropped as her teeth gritted together. Ran off with a gal from the barrel races? Had he planned to be here tonight at all? She thought back over the last twenty-four hours and couldn’t honestly pick out one hint, one sign that he’d been playing her.
Damn, he’s good. Too good. Granny O’Leary had been right all along.
While together, his total focus was on her, but as soon as she was gone, he was off chasin’ the next filly that came along. Between the giggling gaggle of groupies and the rodeo cowgirls, he sure had enough choices.
Anger cramped her jaw. Gretal squirmed and she loosened her grip, kissing her daughter’s cheek in apology.
She should have known better; she did know better, but still let Paige talk her into this mess. Now what?
“Now nothing,” she told herself aloud, fighting the threatening tears. “Damn.” The single expletive felt good so she said it again. “Damn.” She’d been so sure.
“Damn, damn, damn, damn,” her daughter sang with a rocking motion.
Great, not only was she stupid, now she’d turned her daughter into a potty mouth.
Gently shushing Gretal, Elizabeth made her way back to her car. Dammit, she swore to herself this time. She shouldn’t have listened to Paige, shouldn’t have let herself be persuaded by a lustful libido.
Flooded by grief for loss of the beautiful memories she’d held dear for the last two years—and the last twenty-four hours—Elizabeth secured Gretal back into her car seat. If only she could have locked up her heart as easily.
Horrible as the realization was, she was at least thankful she’d never told Grey about the beautiful daughter he’d given her—he could never take away what he didn’t know he had. As for Gretal, she didn’t ever need to know her father was nothing but a run-around rodeo cowboy...or how much a fool her mother had been.
Chapter Ten
Grey walked out of the hospital with his brother...and Zane.
Damn, but that’s going to take some getting used to. The man was only still standing because Free was going to be okay—and because of the other bomb dropped on them tonight. He didn’t know if he could stand any more surprises this weekend; between this mess with Free and Lizzie showing up out of the blue again...jeez, wait ’til she hears about Free and the...
Grey squeezed his eyes shut and swore under his breath. “Lizzie.” He rubbed his tight brows and swore again.
“What’s the matter?” Dusty asked as they reached the truck.
“I was supposed to meet Lizzie at the grounds, remember?” He gazed up at the dark sky where a few scattered stars blinked their disapproval.
“Ah, the muse-lady,” his brother teased.
Dusty slapped him on the back and laughed. Grey sneered.
“Just give her a call,” Zane suggested. “Once she hears about Free’s accident, I’m sure she’ll forgive you.”
“I can’t,” Grey muttered, lugging the driver’s door open. “I don’t have her number.” They’d never got that far. Hell, they’d barely gotten out of the trailer.
“What’s her last name?” Zane asked. “I know most everyone around here. I’m sure I can get you a number.”
Grey rubbed the back of his heated neck and cranked the engine a little harder than necessary. “I don’t know that, either.”
Dusty snorted in the passenger seat. “So it’s like that, huh?” He glanced over his shoulder to Zane in the backseat. “You should have seen him when she disappeared the first time...oomph.”
Grey pulled his hand out of his brother’s stomach and put the truck in drive.
“I can’t recall a Lizzie,” Zane said from behind him. “The name doesn’t sound familiar. Does she live here in Wayback?”
“She did mention having to get back to work—guess I just assumed it was in town. I know she has a dog and her mom died when she was a kid, just like us.” And thinking back on the stuttered conversation, he wasn’t even sure about the dog. That was it. For someone he
loved laughing with and talking to, only now did he realize she never actual said very much. Way to go, Wulfsen.
His brother obviously cherished his life, because he stayed quiet until they reached the Waffle House, where they had agreed to grab a bite to eat while the doc was running a few more tests on Free.
“Why not give Henry a call. He knows everything going on at the grounds. Maybe he’s heard of her or saw her there tonight.”
Now that he realized Lizzie was the skittish sort where talking was concerned, he highly doubted it, but was willing to give anything a try at this moment.
“You two go on in and order,” he said as he dug out his cell phone. He stepped to the side of the entrance and punched in Henry’s number.
“Garza.”
“Hey, Henry, it’s Grey.”
“How’s Free doing?” the manager asked. “Zane called earlier and I’ve taken care of her horses.”
“Great, thanks. She’ll be laid up for a bit but she’s going to be just fine.” He didn’t mention the other piece of news, figuring that was Free’s place to say. “Look, Henry. I was supposed to meet someone there tonight. Was there a lady asking for me? Her name’s Lizzie.”
“Wasn’t that the girl you were looking for yesterday?” A jovial chuckle followed his question.
Grey rubbed his brows. Found her all right...and lost her again. “Yeah, that’s the one.”
“Not that I know of, son. Give me a sec and I’ll ask around.”
He blew out a breath and waited through the muffled silence on the other end of the line.
“Yeah, Grey,” Henry’s voice boomed. “Young Mickey says a mother and kid was asking about you. Does this Lizzie of yours have a kid?”
He didn’t miss the parental concern in his friend’s tone. “No, she doesn’t,” he assured with a laugh. “That must be the lady whose daughter I helped corral this afternoon.” No offense, but he didn’t want the mother’s gratitude; he wanted to find Lizzie. “Anyone else?”
“Nope.”
Dammit. “Okay, thanks, Henry.”
“Let Free know we’re thinking about her and not to worry about Mistrunner.”
“Will do.” Grey flipped his phone shut. Now what?
He found Dusty and Zane at a table near the door, coffees already on the table.
“Anything?” Dusty asked.
He shook his head and sat down, his appetite gone.
Zane pushed the sugar and creamer toward him. “What’s she look like?”
Grey stared at the small pitcher and dish as Lizzie’s picture came clear and true in his mind. “Five-three, long dark hair that shines when the sun hits it, and these big blue eyes with thick, dark lashes. She’s got a sweet little dimple in her cheek when she smiles, quick as a whip, and has a laugh that reaches her eyes when...”
The oppressive silence broke into his thoughts and he refocused on the men staring at him, both with matching grins on their faces.
“What?” he growled and swiped some sugar packets from the bowl.
“Grey, my brother, you are one wrangled cowboy.”
Dusty’s hand came down heavy on his shoulder and squeezed. Sugar exploded into his cup and onto the table. “I am not.”
Zane grabbed his other shoulder, his grin widening. “She doesn’t sound familiar to me at all, but I think I’d sure like to meet her. She must be something if she got through to the Lone Wolf.”
Grey fisted his hands on the table. They were damned lucky he didn’t give them both matching black eyes. Only one thing saved them—the sinking feeling that they might be right.
Truth was, Lizzie had corralled him that first night, caught him in her spell, and he’d never quite shook free of it.
Was she too good to be true? A fantasy in his own head?
Or was she the real thing?
And how the hell am I going to find her to find out?
Chapter Eleven
Elizabeth cracked an eye open, groaned, and closed it again. The crick in her neck wasn’t the only sign she’d fallen asleep someplace other than her bed.
With a moan, she raised her head and swiped at an itch on her cheek. Her hand came away with a receipt attached.
She frowned at the papers piled on her desk, the blotter and notepad before her stained with a tell-tale drool spot.
She wiped her mouth, taking her hand right around to the back of her neck, and winced at the early morning sunshine peeking through her window. Far too cheery a sight for her crappy mood.
A breathy giggle came from the baby monitor on the hutch’s shelf.
Gretal.
The smile that automatically touched her lips faltered. The one blessing in this whole mess was the innocence of childhood. Her daughter was her perky little self, an early riser as always; the events of the last couple days wouldn’t darken her world. Then again, she didn’t have to go through every day seeing the one man she could never have staring back from her daughter’s eyes for the rest of her life.
Elizabeth pushed herself away from the desk. After berating herself for her own stupidity for the better part of last night, she’d buried herself in Henry’s audit papers as a distraction. Granny was right; numbers don’t let you down. You know where you stand with numbers, no guessing. They don’t let you down...and they don’t break your heart.
She squeezed the bridge of her nose where a headache verged on the cusp of migraine. One other thing Granny was right about, you can’t go back. “I should’ve just kept the good memories and moved on, but no, I had to let my lust get in the way,” she berated aloud, picking up right where she left off last night. “Well, can’t complain. I got what I wanted, another hot night with a sexy cowboy—and it only cost me the other half of my heart.” What a deal.
The headache followed her up the stairs to her daughter’s room. Even through the pain, though, she couldn’t help the smile that came when her daughter’s face brightened as she entered.
“Mama, mama.” Little fists stuck out, opening and closing in excited little bursts.
She pulled Gretal up over the crib’s side and squeezed her tight. “Good morning, sweetheart,” she said, not liking the hitch in her own voice.
Blonde curls tickled her cheek and she inhaled the sweet scent of innocence—and the not-so-sweet scent of a dirty diaper.
Life goes on...and that’s what she had to do. Take care of her daughter, watch her grow and become a strong young woman.
She had no idea how she was going to do that when at the moment it was all she could do just to raise the energy to stand, but she owed it to Gretal...she owed it to herself, a debt her own mother had never paid.
“Let’s get you smelling pretty.” She brushed back her daughter’s bouncy curls. “Hey, maybe that’s what we should do today. Visit Suzie at the beauty salon.”
Heaven knew she could use a little pampering. “After breakfast, Mommy will have a shower and try not to look like she was trampled by a bull. Then we’ll head down to Hair Crazy and see if Suzie can squeeze us in.”
Just one more thing Granny had taught her: if you looked good on the outside, no one could see the pain on the inside.
Chapter Twelve
For the second time in twenty-four hours, Grey stepped out of the hospital. He’d dropped in to check on Free and get the real story on what was happening with her and Zane. Didn’t take her long to make it clear she didn’t want her big brother busting into her business and ordered him out and back to his event this afternoon. He didn’t like it, not one bit, but he had to chuckle, thankful Free was feeling good enough to act like, well, Free.
It also gave him a little free time, so to speak. With another two hours before his event, he could head into town, maybe grab some lunch. For some reason he had a hankerin’ for a chili dog.
A grin split his lip as he hauled himself into his truck. Of course, according to Lizzie, there wasn’t a good chili dog to be had in Wayback.
God, he’d missed her last night. The sheets were cold and
he didn’t just mean from lack of sex. He just wanted her next to him.
Damn, I really do have a thing for her.
This time when he found her, he planned to get her back in his bed and hold her there until she told him all about herself so he knew exactly who he was falling for.
With her smile implanted on his mind, he turned the truck toward town. Someone there was bound to know her.
No one did.
Grey stepped out of the Blue Bonnet Café and readjusted his Stetson against the bright sun. Lizzie wasn’t a fantasy, he knew that. Hell, Dusty had seen her, too, this time. Yet, even giving a description, the closest lead he had was an accountant up on a family street near the center of town. But then they mentioned the lady had a kid. Close but no cigar, his father always said.
“Thanks, Dad,” he murmured with a wink to the sky as a thought suddenly occurred to him. His father’s penchant for leaving the three of them with various girlfriends or wives while he was off at one event or another might’ve just come in handy. It had always sucked, but now Grey couldn’t help be a little thankful. Almost all of them had taken a weekly afternoon sabbatical to the local hair salon in whatever town they were in. Each time, they’d come back with gossip galore. “Remember, honey, if anything happens in a small town,” he remembered one buxom “aunt” telling Free one day, “You can bet their hairdresser knows a-a-a-all the details.”
Grey took a slow perusal up the street. “Bingo.” With a quick pivot, he headed toward the Hair Crazy Beauty Salon sign.
Not three steps down the sidewalk he stopped. Lizzie. She came out of the little shop next door, a small carton of milk in her hand. The sun shone in blue waves throughout her dark hair. Beautiful. New lyrics popped into his head and he hummed a few notes of a possible melody as he started toward her.
He took another step and stopped as a man put his arm around her and kissed her cheek.
