Texas-Sized Trouble

by Delores Fossen

“You’re Lawson’s ex. I heard about you. One of the other nurses mentioned you when I asked about Eve. I’m Cassidy Vale.”

  Eve frowned at Cassidy. There was no need to rub that ex part in or make it seem as if she’d heard something unsavory about Darby, but Eve suspected it was Cassidy’s way of reminding Darby that she didn’t have a right to play the “I’m the wronged woman here” with Eve. After all, Lawson had been Eve’s ex long before Darby had come into the picture.

  “Yes, Lawson,” Darby repeated. “I nearly forgot. He wanted me to tell you that he’s leaving on a long business trip and didn’t have time to stop by.”

  There it was again. The little pang of disappointment because she wouldn’t be seeing Lawson anytime soon. Eve reminded herself that Lawson wasn’t hers to pang about, and this absence might be a good thing.

  “Is Lawson, uh, all right?” Eve asked.

  Darby blinked as if that was a trick question, but then the aha light went on in her eyes. “You mean because of the stitches. And the other cuts, concussion and the bruises. Yes, he’ll be fine.”

  That was good. Except for the laundry list of injuries, of course.

  “I know I’ve already bothered you with autographs,” Darby said a moment later. “But more of the staff had magazines and they were wondering if you’d sign them. No pressure. I can just leave them, and if you’re feeling up to it, that’s great. If not, I’m sure they’ll understand.”

  Darby handed the magazines to Cassidy, and she looked at Eve as if waiting for her to say something about the covers or how she was feeling. Eve didn’t give her anything because of that whole fear-of-backfiring thing. Darby didn’t have any experience dealing with entertainment reporters who had sneaky ways of getting dirt. Of course, with whatever bull Kellan was doling out, it was possible the reporters had enough dirt to last them awhile.

  Cassidy glanced at the magazine covers when Darby left, and she plucked one from the stack to show to Eve. “Remember this one?”

  It was the one of Stavros and Ulyana in full costume, back to back, with stern looks on their made-up faces. Both of them were armed to the hilt with the prop weapons that managed to look real. Actually, the picture looked real, too.

  Amazing, since it was heavily Photoshopped.

  Eve measured out her life by specific events, and that cover was one of them. So were the events that had led up to it.

  Eighteen years and two months ago, her drama class at the high school had been chosen to participate in an online audition for extras in a yet-to-be-named TV series. Eve had been going through a comic-book phase then, and since she really hadn’t planned on being an actress, she’d sent in a goofball rendition of an air fight scene that she’d “choreographed” to “Welcome to the Jungle” while wearing an old Halloween costume.

  Apparently, the studio thought it was good enough for a real audition over Christmas break, but she hadn’t gotten her hopes up. She’d been so certain they’d choose a real actress. Certain, too, that she wouldn’t leave Lawson—even for a chance of fame in Hollywood. But she’d been young and naive enough to believe that if by some miracle she did get offered the part, she could have convinced Lawson to go with her.

  The next “life measurement” had been Brett’s death. That’d been in January. Shortly afterward, things had changed between Lawson and her.

  The double whammy of painful life measurements.

  She’d still loved Lawson, but Eve had seen the resentment in his eyes and had known it would only grow. He might have never said it in words, but he blamed her for what’d happened. Just as she blamed herself.

  That was the main reason she’d accepted the role when the studio had called, and she’d moved almost immediately. After she had made a clean break with Lawson, that is. Well, as clean of a break as she could make over something that was ripping her heart out.

  Shortly thereafter, she’d started rehearsing for the filming of the first episode of Demon High. Another life measurement. The cover had been shot in July that year, and it and all the covers that followed for the next few months were done with a body double. As had been all of Eve’s action scenes on the set.

  Because she’d been pregnant with Tessie.

  Cassidy had known that, so had the rest of the cast, but it’d stayed a secret for years. Until Tessie had found out.

  Tessie certainly hadn’t taken it well, either, when she’d learned that she wasn’t adopted after all, that she was indeed Eve’s biological daughter. Definitely another painful life measurement.

  But Tessie’s anger was a drop in the bucket compared to what Lawson’s would be. He already hated her, but he would hate her a whole lot more if he ever found out the truth.

  That he was Tessie’s father.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LAWSON WAS NOT daddy material. He’d always believed that when he was a teenager, but he’d thought he might change his mind when he became an adult.

  Nope.

  He was 100 percent certain of his particular stance in life after delivering Eve’s baby.

  It had been like some kind of revelation—a foretelling from the fates, maybe—but holding that kid had reminded him of just how hard it would be to love a child and then have to let that kid loose in this crapshoot of a world.

  A world where people died too young. Where hearts got crushed. And shit happened at an alarming rate. If he wanted that kind of pain in his life, he could just hit himself on the head with a big rock.

  Or visit his brother Lucian, which he was about to do.

  A rock to the head or seeing his oldest brother were on par, but the difference was, he could beat the crap out of Lucian should it become necessary. With a baby, there was no skill set to help with the fear of loving someone so much that it could break you for good. Lawson had been broken, several times, and he didn’t want another dose of that.

  The best way to avoid a heart shit-kicking was to stay out of the “heart” business altogether. That meshed well with the no-fatherhood-for-him revelation. Commitments—those engagements, marriages and, yeah, kids—led to failure. And that wasn’t a theory, either. He’d seen it with his own two eyes. His folks’ nasty divorce. Belle’s bad marriage to Roman and Garrett’s dad. And his soured relationship with Eve.

  All commitments gone wrong.

  He took the final turn to his family’s place, and he pressed in the code on the security panel to open the arched gate with the name Heavenly Pastures scrolled out in wrought iron. It was pure irony, like when a hooker was named Chastity. Because there was no heavenly vibe, nor had there ever been any on these grounds. But yet his great-grandfather Jeremiah, who’d built the place, had chosen the name, maybe believing that it would rub off on the occupants.

  So far, it hadn’t.

  Lawson had higher hopes for the place he was building, but that hope was there only because it was a good half mile from the main house that Lucian called home. For a few months out of the year, anyway.

  Since the townsfolk had dubbed him Lucifer, the joke was that his local residence was Hell Sweet Hell instead of Heavenly Pastures. But Lawson knew that his big brother preferred the sprawling ranch he’d built for himself two counties over. Or the equally sprawling house he’d bought near his office in San Antonio.

  Apparently, this county hadn’t been suitable for his big brother because Heavenly Pastures hadn’t been running a full ranch operation since Lawson had left to work for Garrett.

  It was more of a battleground these days.

  When Lawson’s and Garrett’s grandfathers had had a falling-out decades ago, it had started a Texas-sized feud. They’d divided the land they co-owned except for about a hundred acres that at the time had been leased to another rancher. The lease had long since expired, and that meant the ownership of the land was in question. It was a prized chunk of acreage to own because the creek coiled through it. Garrett needed
the creek water to keep the ranch growing. Lucian wanted to hang on to it because he was, well, Lucian, and he liked to own stuff even when he didn’t have a use for it.

  Lawson passed by the road that led to his house, and he could see it in the distance. It was on the creek.

  Yep, the very one in question.

  But he was having the house built on Heavenly Pastures’ land that wasn’t in dispute. It was his. A twenty-first birthday gift from his dad as a way to lure Lawson back to the ranch so he could work for Lucian instead of Garrett. That ploy hadn’t worked, but the gift made a pretty spot for his future home.

  A home that was no longer just a shell. Lawson could see the progress from the road, and it was really coming together with walls and a roof. He’d drop by and check on it once he’d had it out with Lucian. And the reason Lucian was on his shit list was because of the next house that came into view.

  His mother’s.

  Except now Eve believed she was the owner.

  It was a white-and-yellow Victorian that looked out of place on a Texas ranch, and it was identical—in floor plan, anyway—to the one on the Granger Ranch where Lawson worked. Garrett’s great-granddaddy Z. T. Granger had built that place over a hundred years ago, and Lawson’s great-granddaddy had built a nearly identical one on Heavenly Pastures.

  When Lawson reached the main house, he pulled to a stop in the circular drive—and cursed. Because Lucian’s truck wasn’t there. It was a sign that his brother wasn’t, either, since Lucian always parked in front or on the side of the house and not in the garage. Lawson figured the parking preference had to do with Lucian’s quick exits.

  Like this one, for example.

  Lawson had called the house just an hour earlier, and when he’d spoken to Lucian’s assistant, she’d said he wasn’t taking any calls but that he was there. And maybe he was. Lawson held out hope that his brother’s car was being serviced or something.

  He parked in Lucian’s usual spot and got out as best he could. Each movement and step caused him to wince and grunt in pain, a reminder that a butt-kicking might be physically impossible. Still, he’d try.

  Lawson threw open the door to the house and made a beeline to Lucian’s office. Well, as much of a beeline as he could make considering the place was massive. A woman he didn’t recognize peered down at him from the staircase and then scurried away. She was probably a housekeeper, and the reason he didn’t recognize her was that Lucian went through employees as frequently as he did cars.

  He glanced in the sunroom since it was where Lucian often sat to read reports and such. No Lucian. However, the cook, Abe Wiser, was there. His feet were propped up on an ottoman, his body stretched out, and the guy was snoring. Abe was a lousy cook, an equally lousy worker, but unlike the revolving door of housekeepers, Lucian had kept Abe—for reasons that were unclear to anyone but Lucian.

  “He’s not here,” someone mumbled.

  Now, that was a voice he did recognize despite the mumbling. It was his brother Dylan. It wasn’t a surprise that he was there since unlike Lucian, Heavenly Pastures really was Dylan’s home. And the fact that he hadn’t smothered Lucian in his sleep was a testament to Dylan’s “I really don’t give a shit” attitude.

  Dylan was coming from the direction of the kitchen, a beer in one hand, some papers tucked under his arm and the remainder of a pizza slice clamped between his teeth. He removed the pizza and gave Lawson that “Dylan Granger” smile that melted women into puddles of, well, whatever women melted into when they saw that pretty face and the endless supply of rodeo buckles. Dylan wasn’t just a cowboy. He was a rich bronc-riding champion.

  Unlike Lucian, Dylan had definitely inherited all the charm in the family, and he was the reason Lawson had such a small dating pool. Dylan had slept with at least half the eligible women of Wrangler’s Creek. A good portion of the ineligible women, too. Since Lawson had a rule about dating any of his brother’s exes, that had limited him to only a handful of prospects.

  “Karlee said Lucian was here,” Lawson pointed out. And since Karlee was the most efficient assistant in the state of Texas, Lawson had believed her. That’s why he’d driven out right after he packed for his trip.

  “He was, but he left about fifteen minutes ago. You must have just missed him.” Dylan tipped his head to Lawson’s midsection. “Do you really have stitches on your ass?”

  “Yeah, and you might need some when I’m finished with you. Why the hell would you let Lucian or Mom sell the house to Eve?”

  “So, that’s why you’re here.” Dylan munched another bite of his pizza and got to walking, heading in the direction of his office. Which was on the other end of the house from Lucian’s. Apparently, the most charming cowboy in Texas wanted to keep his distance from the least charming one.

  Dylan went in his office, setting the papers, beer and remainder of the pizza slice on his desk before he put his hands on his hips and faced Lawson. “I didn’t get a chance to talk anyone out of anything because it was a done deal before I even heard about it. Mom gave Lucian her power of attorney to sell it, and he did.” Dylan shrugged. “Lucian always did have a soft spot for Eve.”

  “Lucian’s never had a soft spot for anyone,” he grumbled.

  Lawson took out his phone to call his mother, Regina. She didn’t answer, of course, and Lawson had no idea where she was. Regina wasn’t exactly motherly in the normal sense of the word and rarely returned his calls. Still, he left her a message.

  “It won’t do any good, you know,” Dylan commented. “The papers have been signed.”

  “Since when? Because the gossips in this town are too good for me not to have heard about this.”

  Dylan shrugged. “My guess is Lucian kept it quiet by using his San Antonio lawyer. He probably didn’t want you putting up a fuss before the deal was finalized.”

  “Putting up a fuss” made him sound like a toddler who didn’t want a nap. Shit. This was serious. “Eve will practically be my neighbor.”

  Dylan showed no sympathy whatsoever about that. “It’s a quarter of a mile from yours, and pardon me if I don’t boo-hoo about you having a hot actress to gawk at every now and then.”

  Lawson wouldn’t be gawking because if he couldn’t figure out a way to nix this deal...well, he didn’t know what he was going to do, but it might involve building a very high fence. And yeah, he did sound like a cranky toddler.

  “Eve doesn’t know the house she bought could be right on the edge of the land that might eventually be part of a lawsuit,” Lawson pointed out. And that was something he could enlighten her about.

  But Dylan quickly burst that bubble. “I told her all about it.”

  Lawson frowned. “What about her knowing that I’ll be her neighbor?”

  “I mentioned that part, too, and she still wanted the place. I have no idea why.”

  Hell. Lawson did. But it couldn’t be that. Eve had lost her virginity to him in that house on her seventeenth birthday. It was definitely memorable, but after the way she’d left town and broken off things with him, she couldn’t be sentimental about the location of her de-virgining.

  Could she?

  He thought about that a second and decided the answer was no.

  “So, I heard Eve named the baby Aiden,” Dylan continued while he sipped his beer. “I guess she decided against Brett.”

  That pulled Lawson right out of his de-virgining thought. “Brett?”

  “Yeah. I talked to her last night when she got in, and she mentioned it was one of the names on her list.”

  Lawson was glad she’d nixed it. He didn’t need anything to remind him of the friend he’d lost, not when he was working so hard to forget it. Of course, Eve would likely think it was easier for him to forget since he couldn’t remember much. Only bits and pieces. In a way that made it worse because Lawson had filled in those gaps with some god-awful stuff.
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br />   “Why’d you talk to Eve?” Lawson asked, getting his mind back on the conversation with his brother. “Better yet, why didn’t you tell me you’d talked to her? And is there any reason you didn’t mention to me that she was coming here or that she was pregnant?”

  Dylan scratched his chin. “That’s a lot of questions. Angry-sounding questions. Are you jealous?”

  “Hell, no.” And he gave Dylan “the big brother” look that often had preceded a butt-whipping when they were kids.

  Dylan smiled, made a yeah whatever sound. That sound had often preceded a butt-whipping, too. “Eve called me right before she bought the house. She asked me how I thought you’d take her moving back. She was worried that you’d be upset—”

  “Damn straight I’m upset—”

  “But I told her you were a grown man,” Dylan said, talking right over him, “and that the stuff that happened between you two was water under the bridge.”

  “I’m a grown man with a memory,” Lawson fired back, which, of course, sounded toddler-ish again. He huffed. Since he wasn’t gaining any ground here, it was best he headed out, and he was about to do that until Dylan spoke again.

  “If you talk to Eve,” his brother went on, “let her know that I did try to call Tessie for her. She’d given me the girl’s number and address in case of an emergency.”

  She’d given the number to Belle, too, and Eve had also asked him to call Tessie if something went wrong with the delivery. “Did you talk to Tessie?”

  Dylan shook his head. “I tried, but the call went straight to voice mail.” He paused. “Eve and Tessie are on the outs, and Eve’s all torn up about it. That’s why you need to cut her some slack about this house business. She’s going through a rough time right now.”

  Well, Lawson wasn’t going through a picnic what with the breakup with Darby, the flashbacks about Brett and the butt stitches, but this sounded like more than just a mother-daughter spat. “What happened?”

  “Eve didn’t say, but considering the timing, maybe Tessie didn’t approve of her mom having a baby. Or her mom having sex with Kellan Carver.”