“You think she’s . . . ?”
“Going to get lovingly involved if you don’t stop giving her an incentive to? Odds are good, Hughes. Feelings creep up faster than you realize.”
When Ben caught Gideon’s gaze, the cowboy glanced away, his face a study in blankness.
Secrets, Ben thought. A Rough & Tumble specialty. But it made him think that Gideon knew something about emotions from his own experiences in the past.
Since there were no other vehicles on the quiet road, Gideon stopped the pickup, a serious expression on his face. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something else, and it has to do with another stranger in town.”
Ben came to a halt, too, going over to the truck’s open window and leaning on the sill.
“Are you talking about the guy who can’t keep his eyes off Kat? I’ve noticed.”
Gideon draped his arm over the steering wheel. “Part of my job is to observe, notice anything that gives my hackles a tickle. I heard the stranger—Isaiah Smith—was in the saloon again yesterday. Kat mentioned to me at closing time that he’s been asking a lot about her.”
“Shit.”
“‘Shit’ is right. The thing of it is, I believe Kat’s taken a shine to him.”
“I got that impression, too.” Ben shook his head. “She put on some lipstick and actually paid attention to her hair.”
“By the time I got to the R and T, she must’ve wiped the makeup off.” What there was of Gideon’s smile was lopsided. “I would’ve liked to have seen her polish up like that since I’m not sure it’ll ever happen again.”
“Why? Did this Isaiah leave town?”
“Don’t know, but if he comes back, I hope Kat stays on the defensive. I respect the hell out of that woman, but we all have blind spots, and I wonder if she’s thinking straight around him.”
“Kat’s always careful.”
“She wasn’t that night when she told you, Boomer, me, and Cash about how she got the scar.”
Ben bristled. “So what’s your theory on this? Is this Isaiah poking around because he wants some revenge on Kat for what she did ten years ago? Am I jumping to an overblown conclusion?”
“I don’t think that sounds too out of bounds.”
Even though Kat’s hands weren’t clean—there was a lot of dirt and even some blood on them—Ben knew that everyone in Rough & Tumble would surround her like a fortress, and Gideon’s clenched jaw only verified that.
A flatbed pickup crested a small hill in the distance behind them, and both men stayed quiet as the general store owner, Clancy DeForge, drove by, his hand raised in greeting. The man had a yen for eating the café special at the Silver Hills casino near the interstate every morning before opening up shop.
They waved back, and Gideon put his truck in gear. “Just so you know, I texted Boomer late last night. He’s already looking into Isaiah Smith. Kat’s told me enough about him that we have something to go on . . . if any of it’s true. By the by, we won’t mention this to her.”
“No, we won’t.”
With that, Ben backed away from the window, and Gideon drove off.
Thank God Gideon’s instincts had been ruffled about Kat’s admirer, too. Ben just had one of those feelings that friends had about another friend when something wasn’t right.
He walked toward another small hill just ahead, knowing that Rough & Tumble wouldn’t be far over it. With every step, his mind wouldn’t stop churning with thoughts about Kat. If something was wrong with Isaiah Smith—if he was here to right some wrongs for, say, a family member who’d been involved with Clay O’Rourke and the hell he’d put Kat through all those years ago—Kat would burrow deeper into the personal prison she’d erected around herself.
And, dammit, for once, it’d been nice to see Kat smiling with lipstick on. . . .
When Ben’s Bluetooth device rang, he stopped walking, lowering his head and putting his hands on his hips. He knew in his bones it was Jameson.
He’d been putting off this talk long enough, and he wandered off the road, toward the creosote bushes and cacti.
Before answering, he exhaled, then said, “Hello?”
“Ben—what’ve you got for me?” It was Jameson, all right.
For a second, Ben was tongue-tied. With a few well-chosen words, he’d be diving into the rest of his life headfirst, no going back to the Bennett Hughes who’d been free and easy, getting into tabloid exploits and living the high life in low places.
Then he imagined himself sitting across from Dad, the man giving him a satisfied look and a handshake.
Then he saw Liz this morning, after he’d told her about clearing her debts and how she’d sent him a grateful expression when she thought he hadn’t been paying attention.
He’d liked that look. Liked it more than he’d expected he might because, for one moment, he’d mattered to someone.
That made his decision right there—final and complete. Silver tongue, don’t fail me now.
“I’ve good some great news, Jameson.”
“That’s a boy! Can you scan the nondisclosure agreement and e-mail it, just so I can kiss it hello as soon as possible? You’re a bona fide lifesaver.”
Uh . . . yeah. “Well, there’s a little twist to the situation, but in the end, you’re going to find that you’re in better shape than ever after you listen to what I have to say.”
“Bennett.” Jameson had gone from joyful to cautious in record time.
Here it went. “I didn’t expect it to happen, but, my God, Jameson, I fell for her.” He put on a smile. “I’m a happily married man who’s going to be the best husband in existence.”
Was he overdoing it?
Not that it mattered, because Jameson’s voice turned to biting steel. “What the fuck did you just say?”
You’re all in now. “I married Liz.”
He waited . . . and waited . . . and when Jameson didn’t continue, Ben took up the slack.
“You were absolutely wrong about her. She’s a beautiful woman, inside and out, and my feelings hit me like a thunderstorm. I’ve never had that happen to me before.”
“Yes, you have, for a few minutes at a time,” his brother finally said. “But it had to happen with this gold-digging bitch for an extended period? What the fuck, Bennett?”
Ben barely realized that Jameson was back to calling him by his full name. What concerned him more was that his brother had called his wife a gold-digging bitch. So what if Ben had referred to her as the same thing at first, too? Now he knew better, and he’d never make that mistake again.
He hardened his own tone. “Don’t ever call her that again. She’s my wife now.”
“This is a joke. It has to be. Well, hah-hah, Bennett, it’s incredibly hilarious, one of your best ones yet. Now cut it out and tell me that you’re going to e-mail that agreement.”
“It’s no joke.”
Jameson rattled off a chain of curses, and Ben almost took off the Bluetooth earpiece. But he’d known this was coming, and he withstood it.
His brother interrupted his own tirade. “Jesus—you realize that Liz Palazzo cost me only twenty thousand dollars, right? Do you know what she’s going to cost you, dumbass?”
Ben almost said that the investment would be worth it after Jameson cooled off and considered the benefits of this marriage. But he would need to stay away from words like investment and not slip up when he was doing so well with the lies.
“She’s Liz Hughes now, got that?” He vaguely recalled something she’d said on their wedding night at the chapel—how she’d legally changed her name from something else. He couldn’t remember what it used to be, even though she’d told him.
“Holy shit, this can’t be happening.” It sounded like Jameson was pacing, and after a few seconds he said, “Okay, we can get this under control, just the two of us. Did anyone see you get married? I assume the wedding took place in one of those tacky chapels.”
“There were witnesses.” Ben knew where
Jameson was going—toward annulment—so he spun and spun again. “I appreciate your concern about that, because Liz and I are trying to keep the news out of the press for now. I’d like to control the media on this, if you don’t mind, and give them my story instead of having them run rampant with it. I know who I want to give an exclusive to, and I have my PR firm on call. Liz and I have even put off our honeymoon until the news has come out. I’m also in the process of looking for a house right now—we want to live out here, then get a place in New York someday, too.”
And that would happen when . . . not if . . . he got the respect he was anticipating, welcomed into the arms of the Hughes Corporation. The mere thought kept him going with Jameson now.
His brother was being difficult. Massive surprise. “I can get our lawyers right on this, and you can be quietly free of her before this goes public—”
Ben clenched his hand. “You’re not listening. I married her because I love her.”
That hadn’t been so bad to say. Maybe this was the closest to love he’d ever get, with a woman who looked at him like she was always glad to see him, with a woman who was thankful for what he was able to do for her.
But he remembered what Gideon had said about emotions. He’d have to keep his own in line, even if they were centered on how she lifted his ego.
Jameson hadn’t commented, so Ben took the opportunity to bring the discussion down a notch.
“I’m going to show you how wrong you were about Liz,” Ben said, truly meaning it. “And you’re going to see that, even without some nondisclosure agreement, my wife isn’t going to say anything about what went on with you.”
That seemed to calm Jameson down. “Did she sign something to that effect?”
Good God. But the truth was, there was a nondisclosure clause in their contract that included keeping Jameson’s secret, or else Liz would forfeit Ben’s deep pocketbook after the divorce. Even if the terms could be legally challenged, he’d assured her that staying on his positive side would be more profitable than getting on his bad one.
“Yes, Jameson. She agreed to your nondisclosure.” He’d also asked her to sign the original agreement, thinking that Jameson would want to have it.
His brother let out a sigh, but it didn’t take long for him to say, “Dad’s going to pop his top when he hears about this. He’s not going to believe the black sheep got married.”
“Then he’ll just have to meet Liz after the honeymoon.” Long after. Ben rolled his eyes, then closed them. “And I’ll call him with my announcement.”
Even if they never talked, it was something that had to be done. It was one of many first steps toward his ultimate goal.
“You’d better call,” Jameson said. “Listen, I’ve got to go, but send me a copy of that agreement. We’re going to talk more later.”
No doubt about that.
After they hung up, Ben listened to the whistling desert air. He’d done it. One down, with his father to go. Then all he had to do was work with Liz for the next year and a month, and life would be good.
He smiled. Real good.
A spurt of triumph made him start jogging, pushing himself into a sprint.
It was going to work, he thought, pushing himself even faster. This was the beginning of something fantastic.
He jogged hard all the way into town limits, waving to Kat, who was sweeping the boardwalk outside the bar—alone, thank God—and Clancy DeForge, who was hanging T-shirts for sale outside the general store. Not long afterward, he arrived at the house, hearing a sound he usually didn’t hear in the front yard.
Barking?
He slowed to a stop at the picket fence, and when he saw Liz, dressed in a light sweater and jeans that hugged her, his heart beat louder, more forcefully. She smiled at him, happy to see him, too.
Was he really this glad to see her? Damn.
After he pulled himself out of the spell she’d suddenly put him under, he noticed what was making that barking sound. A puppy. A little Irish Setter with a scraggly copper coat, dull with neglect. Liz had just put down a bowl and the dog was attacking it, feasting away.
Liz rushed to the fence, opening the swinging door. “You’re not as tense as you were when you left. Did you . . . ?”
“Talk to Jameson? Yeah, and he didn’t even implode over the phone. Now I need to call my dad to give him the news.”
As she pumped her fist in victory, the sun tossed glints of fire in her hair, which was damp from a washing. Her smile was just as bright, and it made him feel even better.
“How about your oldest brother? Will you call him?”
“Lincoln’s going to hear it through the grapevine. I talk to his assistant more than I talk to him.”
Liz’s gaze went sad. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“We never got along much, even as kids. . . .” He couldn’t believe there was a puppy in the yard and Liz hadn’t mentioned it yet. “So what’s with Fido?”
Liz cupped her hands to her chest. “Isn’t she the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen? After you left, I saw her sniffing along the road. I thought she might be hungry, so I found a packet of Cream of Wheat and gave it to her in the bowl. She doesn’t have any tags. Does she belong to a neighbor?”
“I’ve never seen her before.”
“She is just so precious.”
Liz watched the eating dog with a fondness that rattled him. If he didn’t know any better, it was like the look she’d just given him after he’d told her about Jameson.
Gideon’s words came back with a vengeance. Feelings creep up faster than you know . . .
But they hadn’t agreed to feelings. “Liz, we’ve got to take the pup to an animal shelter to see if she’s gone missing. Some family might be looking for her.”
“Right. I know you’re right.” She still had a hand to her heart. “It’s just that I’ve never had a pet before. I’m not asking for one now—I mean, you’re giving me a car, a dinner club, a new wardrobe, and paying off my debts—but . . . isn’t she sweet?”
The puppy gazed over at them with big, wet brown eyes, wagging her tail. Goddammit, why’d she have to do that? She was cuter than hell.
Still, she really might be missing from another household. But there was another option that made Ben seethe: sometimes assholes came out to the desert to dump puppies from unwanted litters. He wasn’t sure he had the heart to give her up to a shelter if that was the case. Worse yet, he wasn’t sure he could do that to Liz’s heart.
Wouldn’t it be a good business decision to keep his partner happy, even just with a pet? And when his dad heard about them adopting a dog? Pure gold. So if Liz wanted a pup, she could have one. She could have a whole animal rescue, for all he minded.
Damn, if Gideon were here, he’d probably say, So are you in the business of taking in all the strays you can now?
Liz obviously couldn’t contain herself anymore, and she went over to the puppy, whose tail wagged even more furiously at her approach. She lavished her with love, petting and murmuring endearments.
“You are the most beautiful darling, aren’t you?” Liz looked back to Ben. “My mom said we couldn’t afford another mouth to feed, and I told her I’d go door to door asking neighbors if they needed windows washed, just so I could buy dog food. But she said there’s a lot more care involved than just feeding dogs. So it never happened.”
He realized that he still had the fence door between him and this domestic scenario. “I didn’t know you grew up under those circumstances, without much money.”
“It’s okay. About the money, I mean. It affected my mom more than me. She busted her butt trying to get me work in showbiz. She had dreams of moving to LA to make me a star, but we wouldn’t have been able to afford California anyway. So we stayed here, and I’m sure she wasn’t happy with me because of that. Or for . . . other reasons.”
He wanted to go to her, cradle his hand to the back of her head to tell her it was okay, that he was glad she was here as his partner, b
ut she already had the puppy to hug, and the little thing seemed to sense Liz’s mood. It licked her, fixing those round, sweet eyes on her.
He had to ask. “What were the other reasons your mom was mad at you?”
Liz laughed, and it seemed fringed by barely hidden pain. “I wasn’t exactly a planned child, so I was inconvenient in a lot of ways. I don’t even know who my dad is. I’m not even sure Mom knew.”
Hell. He was about to say something, anything, comforting when she enveloped the dog in her arms instead.
“Anyway,” she said, “that was a lifetime ago.” As the animal squirmed with joy, Liz murmured, “Wasn’t it, Poppy Puppy Dog?”
Great. She’d already given it a name.
She continued talking to it. “Maddie Patterson is way in the past, where she belongs.”
That’d been the name he’d tried to remember from the other drunken night. Maddie. He could almost see the small redheaded girl who wanted a dog so badly that she would’ve worked her ass off to take care of one.
Suddenly, all the other items on his agenda didn’t matter: calling Dad, getting in touch with the Realtor. He came the rest of the way into the rock-and-cactus yard, kneeling down by the two of them.
“First off,” he said, “your girl needs a bath.”
“She . . . does? Does that mean she can stay?”
He scooped Poppy or whatever—he wouldn’t get too attached just in case she belonged to someone else—under his arm and moved toward the door, the dog trying to lick him like he was a sweaty lollipop.
“That depends,” he said, biting down the laugh that threatened him. “We’re going to an animal shelter to see if she has a microchip in her. I’ll put a ‘found’ ad in the local papers and ask around town if anyone’s missing a . . .” Cute puppy who won’t stop loving on me.
He’d left the sentence hanging, and as he walked into the house, Liz was right behind him, her hand on his back. The slight pressure of it felt nice, like she didn’t even know she was doing it.
Down and Dirty Page 19
