by Karen Anders
She started the car and drove out of the sheriff’s office and headed directly to Hugh Barrington.
Once seated at his desk, her father’s attorney steepled his fingers together, looking thoughtful. “This sounds like it could be a problem,” he said, his gaze going laser sharp. “I’m not a criminal attorney, Alanna, but I can refer you to a very good one here in Dallas.”
“That would be something, Hugh,” she said, her voice tight.
He leaned forward and grabbed a pitcher of clear liquid from a tray and poured a glass. Getting up he came around the desk and put it into her hands. “There’s still no word on Eldridge?”
She accepted the glass. “This isn’t gin, is it?”
He shook his head. “Water, but I do have something a bit stronger if you’d like.”
She took a sip, the cool liquid soothing her parched throat. “No. I’d better not. I’m distraught and driving.” He clasped his hand against her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “No. Nothing on my father. I’m so very worried about him.” She pressed a hand to her chest.
“I understand. But at this point, all we can do is wait. There does seem to be some indication of foul play as your family hasn’t received a ransom note.”
A few minutes later in her car, she mulled over what Hugh had said as she drove back to Colton Valley Ranch. She couldn’t agree with him more. She swallowed, a shiver going down her spine, her stomach so tied up in knots. What was going on? With her father? With this whole mess?
Was he dead?
She entered the gates, pressing everything back, and drove up to the house, parking her car in the massive garage. She headed straight back to the barns and the arena. As she entered, Tamara was working the horses. She immediately dismounted when she saw Alanna.
“Thank God. I was so worried when the sheriff said you needed to come with him. You’re not under arrest, are you?”
“Not yet.”
“That’s ominous.”
“It’s terrible and I’m not really sure what to do or think at this point.”
“Do you want me to take over here? Why don’t you do something peaceful this afternoon? You never take enough time off, Alanna. Really. Get Mrs. Morely to fix you up a basket and go have some downtime at the creek. The bluebells will be blooming this time of year.” Tamara got a sly gleam in her eyes. “And sunflowers. Be a shame to miss that.” She nudged her. “It would do you good. I can handle anything that comes up here.”
The creek was a very peaceful place and it was true. She hadn’t had a day off in a very long time. She did have to work out what she was going to do about Fowler threatening to sell her stock before it was ready and also figure out what she was going to do if he continued to treat her like she was nothing more than a figurehead. That wasn’t going to suit her at all. Quite frankly, she deserved the respect he was withholding.
“All right.”
“Of course.” Tamara smiled. “I’m so glad you’re going to take some time for yourself. Please don’t give it another thought.”
A half an hour later, she was on the back of Somerset with Mrs. Morely’s basket hooked on to her saddle. She’d changed into a pair of jeans and a lacy white top layered with a denim jacket. On her feet she’d indulged herself with a pair of brown cowgirl boots tooled with flowers on them. A straw hat on her head, sunglasses breaking the glare.
She followed the road for about half a mile, then veered off. The narrow trail to the creek was overgrown with small trees, scrub and bushes, grass sparse on the hard-packed dirt. With barbed-wire fences marking the boundaries, Alanna skirted a dead tree, Somerset confidently navigating the rough track, the branches of bushes scraping against her legs. She pulled Somerset up and removed her jacket due to the heat of the day.
She loved this part of the ranch—loved the vastness, the spectacular vistas, the untouched beauty of it. With the necessary evil of the fence lines, this area was just as it had been a hundred years before, and she was always overwhelmed by it.
There was a gap along the west fence, and Alanna stopped and shielded her eyes as she stared out at the view.
It was breathtaking, her family’s property. The rises, the thick forest of oak, hickory, tupelo and sweet gum trees rooted deep in the fertile, sandy loam. And the distinctive green of the massive pines that towered over her, swaying gently in the early fall breeze. There was no place like it in the entire world. And there was a sense of unfettered freedom here she’d never experienced anywhere else. Shifting her gaze, she followed the line of the treetops, the sound of birdsong thick in the air, the wind whipping loose hair across her face. It was as if this space allowed her to take a full breath, to expand her lungs to their total capacity, to shed all her constraints.
Even if the effect was temporary.
She continued down the narrow, winding trail as it disintegrated into more of a path. When she heard the sound of rushing water, Somerset picked up his pace. Soon the wide creek came into view and she gave her horse his head as he picked his way down the gentle slope to the water. The recent abundance of rain had left the creek full and the waters tumbling around the rocks. She leaned on the saddle horn and breathed deep.
The scent of fresh air and water was a boon to her soul. Nudging Somerset away from the edge of the fast-moving water, she found a firmer place to dismount. Once her boots hit the ground, she reached for the saddlebags and the picnic basket. She unpacked a tarp, then spread a blanket over it, setting the food down.
Folding down onto the soft fabric, she dug into the basket, realizing with dismay she must have left the thermos of lemonade near her horse’s stall. Darn it. She was going to have to go thirsty.
“Forget something?”
Her head jerked up at the deep sound of Jake’s voice. She shaded her eyes as he came toward her carrying the missing thermos, leading his pretty roan Valentine by the reins. She watched him, a familiar warmth starting in her middle. He was so damn good to look at. He dropped the reins, and set his hand on his belt buckle holding up a pair of nice fitting jeans over his lean hips and thick thighs, all in all an impressive lower half. The upper half was just as mouthwatering with his Western plaid shirt stretched across a taut chest and covering very broad shoulders. His Stetson shadowed his eyes, the sun glinting off the stubble of his unshaven jaw.
He looked all kinds of cowboy sexy, approachable and...safe.
His eyes went over her in a heated, lazy way that was purely Jake. “Nice boots,” he drawled, his tone warm and intimate.
“Nice play.”
His brows rose, a glint of humor in his eyes. “Oh, yeah? In what way?”
He went to his knees beside her and set the thermos in her hands. “Bringing me my thermos. You wouldn’t be trying to butter me up, hmm?”
He grinned for real, sat back on his heels, his big hands resting on his thighs. “Why would I do that?”
She tilted her head, feeling oddly flustered. She’d never had this...teasing kind of relationship with a man. She’d been much too closed up and suspicious. Jake seemed to break down all those barriers. “Habit?”
Laughter in his eyes, he braced his hand against the blanket and leaned close, gazing directly into her eyes. “What kind of habit?”
She gave him a cheeky smile, nudging his shoulder. “Horning in on my meals.”
He nudged her right back. “Not by design. But it’s a good thing you learned to share when you were in kindergarten.”
She made a face at him. “I wasn’t all that nice in kindergarten.”
He nodded his head wisely. “Spoiled?”
The devil glinted in his eyes, something exciting drifting through her. “A tad, and tough, too. Liked to get my way.” This time she smacked his arm and he captured her hand in his, laughing. She felt the contact all the way through her. Jake took a breath. She knew exactly what he was experiencing because she was experiencing it, too—that hot rush, the debilitating weakness, making her senses swim.
“You’re still go
ing to share. It’s good for the soul,” he coaxed, his voice gruff as he rubbed his thumb against her palm.
“Well, you did ride all the way out here to bring me my lemonade.”
Grinning, he looked like a desperado with his dark stubble. “Attagirl, not so tough or spoiled now, huh?”
“Not with a charming cowboy worming his way into my affections,” she murmured as he let go of her hand.
His glinting eyes narrowed. “You’re pushing it, Alanna.”
She reached for the basket and lifted the lid, then dropped it. “It occurs to me, if you really want to get your hands on more of Mrs. Morely’s cooking, you could probably bat your pretty blue eyes and say ‘ma’am’ in that aw-shucks, I’m-not-a-threat-to-your-heart way and she’d melt like sugar in the rain.”
He growled and picked her up into his arms and she squealed. “How about I go and dunk you in the river, smart mouth?”
“Creek.” She laughed so hard, she could barely speak. “It’s a creek, and no.” She tried to kick free, but he held her hard, the strength of him astonishing and breathtaking.
“You’re not helping yourself here, Colton.” Amusement was ripe in his voice. “Creek, river. I bet the water’s just as cold.”
“Please, Jake,” she pleaded, her voice breaking from laughter and exertion. “I’m sure Mrs. Morely would feed you even if you weren’t so darn charming.”
He stopped and looked down at her, his voice getting softer as he looked into her eyes and she got so lost in the blue depths of his. “You just want to save your fancy boots.”
“Naw, I could probably make a whole new pair out of the leather from getting your goat.”
He captured her gaze then, the expression in his eyes softening, growing warmer until those amused glints were like honey, a little more intimate—the look you gave someone you really liked down deep.
“You’re a really sassy brat, Colton,” he said, his voice deep and husky.
“Everything I learned, I learned in kindergarten,” she said, her voice hushed as he let her go and she slid down his hard-muscled body.
“How about this?” he said before he lowered his head. Cupping her jaw to protect her from his heavy stubble, he brushed her mouth with the softest, slowest kiss. Alanna’s breath caught and her pulse stumbled. Alanna molded herself against him, holding the back of his head. His lips moving against hers, he spoke, his voice very low, very raspy.
“I think we might have to do some quick two-stepping here, darlin’,” he said, his tone soft. She started to pull away, but he held her secure. “I might need a minute. My knees are a mite weak.”
That made her smile and, my God, could this man be any damn cuter. “That’s a pretty good line.”
She felt him grin, and he gave her hair a tug. “Well, hell, I was trying to impress you with my cowboy charm.”
She smiled again, “Oh, that’s what that was?” Feeling oddly vulnerable, and fighting her attraction to him was a double whammy.
He chuckled. “I think we’d better eat before we do something we’ll both regret.”
Her throat suddenly tight. She wasn’t sure she’d regret it, but his suggestion made good sense. Unable to answer at the moment, she hung on to him, her body deconstructing like every molecule had melted. He turned his head and shifted his hold, a shudder coursing through him. It was as if they were both paralyzed, unable to move, unable to separate.
Alanna felt him gather his control, his whole body tensing. He gripped her arm and pulled it from around his neck, clasping her by the wrist. His face going tight, he turned and headed back to the blanket.
She cleared her throat when they were seated and she said, her voice soft, “No, I didn’t learn that lesson until I met you. You’re a good teacher.”
They sat in silence, eating the fried chicken, potato salad, corn on the cob and baked beans while sharing the lemonade between them, the breeze ruffling through the oak leaves and sighing through the pine needles.
They were just above the creek and she enjoyed the view. Shortening her sight, she took in the brown-eyed Susan clustered in the field across the rushing water, along with daisies and a clump of sunflowers. Then to her left as far as she could see were bluebells bobbing in the sunlight and mingling with the grasses. They were the same deep blue as Jake’s striking eyes.
It would have been perfect if Alanna hadn’t started thinking about her morning and getting all tied up in knots. Not to mention this thing with Jake that they both wanted to take to a different level, but were just managing to keep from disaster.
After they had cleaned up their food, she understood he hadn’t come out here to deliver her lemonade. He’d come out here to make sure she was okay and she didn’t want that to mean something, but it did.
“Why don’t you tell me why the sheriff hauled you off this morning and why you came back looking all sorts of spooked?” He leaned forward, resting his arms across his knees, staring off across the valley, his tone quiet. “You in trouble?”
Her insides clenched, Alanna toyed with a loose thread on the edge of the blanket. She shrugged. “That remains to be seen?”
There was a very tense stillness and he responded, resignation in his voice. “I think we established last night that you weren’t an island and I had this shoulder right here, ready and able to handle a little leaning.”
She felt totally emptied out. She had needed a reality check, and this whole you-threatened-your-father was as real as it got. But now she was trapped by someone else’s agenda.
In spite of how rotten she was feeling, she craved that shoulder and everything that went with it. “I really appreciate that, Jake. I do, but I prefer to handle this on my own,” she said, her voice uneven.
His mouth tightened and he nodded. She poured some lemonade. Her throat suddenly parched.
“I think your idea about just cutting ties and opening up your own place works. Do it your way without either your brother’s or father’s influence, constantly undermining you and looking over your shoulder with the second-guessing.”
She had the cup halfway to her mouth, and she abruptly brought it back down, lemonade sloshing over the edge. She stared at him, her heart starting to pound. She held his gaze for a moment, caught so off guard that she couldn’t even think. “What?”
“Go out on your own. You must have the funds. Open your own stables. Do it your way and show them how tough you are.”
She looked at him, trying to recover her equilibrium. “I said that when I was angry.” She wasn’t sure why his question made her feel exposed and guilty—or ineffectual.
He gave her a humorless smile. “Maybe you should. I bet that would be a kick in the pants.”
He had his back braced against a tree, one knee up, his forearm draped over it. His hat was low over his eyes and she got that outlaw vibe again.
She shrugged. “We’ve always worked together.”
“Have you? Sounds to me like they have no respect for you and don’t appreciate you to boot. Make them sit up and take notice.”
“It’s bad timing.”
He snorted. “That’s just an excuse.”
She was backpedaling so fast inside, she was making herself dizzy. “It would be another terrible upheaval. With my father gone—”
“Alanna, Fowler is taking over...has already taken over. Do you want to fight him?”
“It’s part of my legacy.” She heard her father’s words from when she’d been very little. He had told her all about how he’d built up everything for his children, that she was special. When he’d put her in charge of the stables, she’d been so happy to have his approval, to really feel like this was family. She’d always had this unnamed fear deep inside. She was a Colton and they stuck together.
“Why can’t that change? Why can’t you make your own legacy?”
How had this happened? How had he just gotten her to examine something she’d never even contemplated? She had been bold and vocal, but she’d been shot down so
many times, she’d become grounded, weighed down with a sense of duty, with feelings of accountability, with uncertainty. She’d lost something in the process and that gripped her.
Shaken, she couldn’t figure out when that had happened. When she’d stopped asserting herself, fighting for what she believed in. She looked up at him with a jolt of realization. Jake was watching her, an odd contemplative look in his eyes.
She stared at him, suddenly dangerously close to tears. This dark-haired man with the killer grin and the sexy eyes just blew her to smithereens and her world had shifted on its axis.
He chucked her under the chin as if his comments hadn’t just sent her into a tailspin. “Just think about it, sweetheart.” He rose. “It’s getting late and we should get back.”
She was tense the whole way back thinking once again she couldn’t seem to trust anyone in her family. She glanced over at Jake, afraid to even allow the warm feelings he invoked in her to really get a chance to settle. The temptation was incredibly intense.
As they road into the stable area, she saw Fowler and Marceline talking near the arena. That didn’t bode well. As soon as Fowler saw Jake, his face went thunderous. Before Jake could even dismount, her brother was yelling.
“Why aren’t you doing your job?” he growled loudly.
Jake finished dismounting, slipping the reins over Valentine’s head before he turned toward Fowler and answered him, “Mr. Colton, it takes time to undo the kind of abuse that stallion has endured. You have to be more patient.” Jake’s voice was firm, but calm.
Anger flashing in Fowler’s eyes, he shouted, “Then get on with it. I want to breed that damn horse.”
Alanna dismounted and wedged herself between Jake and Fowler. “You are expecting miracles!”
“Stay out of this,” he said, shoving her out of the way. “I know you don’t approve. You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
Jake reacted by catching her arm. “What the hell? That’s no way to treat your sister.”
