by Jan Hudson
For a moment she could only stare at him while ripples of tenderness and longing rose up in her like champagne bubbles. “I—I don’t know.”
“I think I’m falling for you.”
She swallowed. “You do?”
“I do. And I’m hoping you’re feeling something special for me, too.”
“I do. I mean, I like you very much, Griff. Too much, perhaps.”
“Too much? How can that be?”
“My last serious relationship left some deep scars. I’m still a little gun-shy.”
“The lawyer?” he asked. “The one from New York who soured you on the profession?”
She wasn’t at all surprised Griff had surmised correctly that she’d had a bad relationship with a lawyer. He was very perceptive. “Yes, but he wasn’t the only reason I soured on the profession. Although I’ll admit he was representative of everything I abhorred about my situation. He stole my ideas and presented them to the senior partners as his own, and got a big leg up by doing so. Worse, he didn’t see anything wrong with his dirty dealing. Fed me some line of crap about it not mattering whose ideas they were as long as they solved a problem the firm was having. Yay, team. Rah, rah, rah. Bull patties!
“He knocked me down and stomped all over my back to make points with the partners. I couldn’t do anything about it without sounding like a whining woman.”
“The bastard!”
“Uh, no. Literally, I’m a bastard. He’s a dickhead.”
Griff grinned. “Or worse.”
“Daniel was an egotistical, manipulating liar who used me for his own purposes.” She found her hand balled into a fist and shaking. “See, it still enrages me to talk about it. I can’t believe I didn’t get his number sooner. Not only did I feel betrayed, I felt like a gullible fool.”
“Cass, I’m not Daniel,” Griff said quietly.
“I know.”
“I could break his knees for hurting you. Want me to take my baseball bat and look him up when I’m in Manhattan?”
She smiled. “I’m tempted to say yes. But, no.”
“How about we get our food packed in take-out boxes?”
“Excellent idea. And a paper cup for our margaritas.”
AS SHE LAY WRAPPED in Griff’s arms, savoring the warm afterglow of their lovemaking, Cass would have been content to stay there forever. Not only was he a fabulous lover, Griff was everything else a woman would want. He was handsome, charming and considerate. He was thoughtful and kind and fun. He was every woman’s dream. Surely she was missing something. Nobody could be that perfect.
Or was he one of a kind and she simply the luckiest woman in Texas for running into Griffin Mitchell on the jogging trail?
He nuzzled her forehead. “What are you thinking?”
“Truthfully? I was thinking that you’re too good to be true. I’m wondering what’s the fatal flaw in this mix.”
“I’m not that good, but I’ll try my best to be good enough for you. The luckiest day of my life was when I met you. My mom is going to love you.”
Her cell phone rang. She located her bag and checked the ID. “Speaking of moms…” She sighed and answered.
“Cass, where are you, dear?”
“I’m out with Griff.”
“I see.” Her tone was decidedly stiff. “Well, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to let you know Min and I will be there about eleven-thirty to help with the rush hour in case things are as busy as they were today.”
“Thanks, Mom. I appreciate that.”
“No bother. We’re happy to help. Don’t stay out too late. You need your rest.”
“I won’t, Mom. Good night.”
“Gloria, I presume?” Griff asked when she’d closed the phone.
Cass nodded. “She and Min are coming in to help with the noon rush. We had wall-to-wall people today. Maybe things will ease off a little tomorrow. I need to go home and get a good night’s sleep.” She kissed his chin and poked a finger in his dimple. “For some reason I don’t sleep much when you’re around.”
“My scintillating personality?”
“That, too.”
Cass started to rise, but Griff pulled her back into his arms. “I don’t want you to leave.” His tongue slowly traced the outline of her lips, and his hand slid up her leg. “Ever.”
One kiss and she melted.
She got home an hour later than she’d planned.
THE PACE WASN’T QUITE as hectic at noon as it had been the day before, but there were no empty tables in Chili Witches, and a few people had to wait five minutes or so.
By one forty-five, things had slowed considerably. Cass, her mother and Aunt Min sat down to have a glass of tea and a salad.
“Business is booming,” Min said. “I was just telling your mother that when we first started, we were lucky to have four of our six tables occupied.”
Gloria nodded. “Chili Witches has come a long way over the years. I hate to see you girls slave so hard and such long hours. You should have families, travel, have fun, not work yourselves to a frazzle. Why—”
She stopped speaking abruptly and turned pale as she stared at the front door. Cass turned around to see what caused her mother’s reaction. Sam Outlaw was hanging his white hat on the rack.
Oh, dear.
Her hand splayed against her chest and her eyes wide, Gloria continued to stare. “You don’t have to tell me who he is. It’s one of Wes’s boys. He’s the spitting image of your father.”
“It’s Sam,” Cass said. “Do you want to meet him?”
“I suppose I must.”
“Not if it’s going to upset you, Mom.”
“Well, I want to meet him,” Min said. “It’s like seeing a ghost.”
Cass rose and met Sam as he waited by the bar. “Am I welcome?” he asked. “Is that your mother?”
“It is. Mom and my aunt. If Mom looks a little stunned, it’s because she says you’re the spitting image of my father.”
“That’s what I’ve been told. I barely remember him. I can go sit in a corner—or leave if it’s an awkward time. Have you told her about us yet?”
“Yes, we had to fess up. It’s okay. Come join us.”
Cass led Sam to the table and introduced him to Gloria and Min.
“Ladies, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Belle said you were lovely, and I can see she wasn’t exaggerating.”
Gloria chuckled. No, she giggled. “Oh, go on with you, Sam. I can tell you’re an Outlaw for sure.”
Sam grinned. “That I am, ma’am, and I’m delighted to meet you. My mama and daddy are having a fit to meet you, too. In fact the whole family is chomping at the bit to get to know you ladies. We’re all crazy about Sunny and Cass.”
“May I get you something to eat, Sam?” Min asked.
“Why, yes ma’am, thank you. I’d love a bowl of that fine chili and a big glass of iced tea.”
Min and Gloria both smiled, and Cass bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud. Sam was turning it on full blast.
Gloria asked about the rest of the Outlaw family, and Sam whipped out his wallet and began pulling out pictures, first of his wife, Skye, then of the other families. “And this,” he said, “is my oldest brother, Colt, and his wife and little girl.”
He had group pictures of everybody, and he proudly displayed them and told a little about each one. Cass wondered if he carried all those photos in his wallet as a rule. It made his billfold very fat.
Sam continued to charm the ladies while he ate his chili and drank his tea, then topped them off with a big bowl of peach cobbler and ice cream. “I love this cobbler,” he said as he shoveled it in.
“Would you like another?” Min asked.
“Oh, no, ma’am. I gotta keep fit to catch crooks.”
“What are you doing in Austin today, Sam?” Cass asked.
“Talking to the sheriff about a cold case we’re working.” To Gloria and Min he said, “I’m a Texas Ranger based in San Antonio and part of a
team that focuses on old cases that were never solved.”
Gloria nodded. “I noticed your badge.”
“Well, I hate to eat and run,” Sam said, “but duty calls.”
He pulled out his wallet again, but Gloria waved it away. “Our treat.”
“Why, thank you, ma’am. I’m honored.” He stood. “I’m looking forward to meeting you again soon.”
Cass walked him to the door. “I thought I was going to have to get out the shovel for a minute.”
Sam grinned. “Did I do good?”
“You were superb.”
He kissed her cheek, grabbed his hat and left.
When Cass returned to the table, Gloria sighed. “Such a nice young man. Wes must be very proud of him. Too bad he’s married and your cousin.”
“Well, he’s not available,” Cass said, “and I really like Griff. Don’t you?”
“Not particularly,” her mother said. “Min, are you ready to go get those geraniums?”
“Wait a minute,” Cass said. “Why don’t you like Griff?”
“I’m not exactly sure. I think it’s something in his eyes.”
“But, Mom, his eyes are gorgeous. You said so yourself.”
“I’m not talking about their appearance. It’s more about—oh, I don’t know, maybe the expression. He’s a bit too…”
“Slick,” Min finished.
Exasperated at the two of them, Cass clenched her teeth. “You’ve said that before. If you’re talking slick, Sam Outlaw is slicker than goose grease.”
“Oh, not like Sam,” Gloria said. “He’s just a good old Texas boy with a knack for charming bull doo-doo. I’m talking about a different kind of slick. An underhanded kind of slick. Mark my word, Cass, Griffin Mitchell will break your heart.”
“That man is just not copacetic,” Min said. “Is he married?”
Cass’s heart almost stopped, and a strange feeling came over her. “Of course not! Whatever gave you such an idea?”
Married? Surely not. The thought had never occurred to her. If he was married, if he’d been lying to her, she would die. She would just die.
Chapter Sixteen
Griff was not married. Cass refused to allow herself to even consider such a possibility. For the rest of the day, when the thought would pop into her head, she immediately quashed it and busied herself with some task or other—which wasn’t hard to do. They’d had a bang-up business for dinner as well. Even the food editor at one of the papers stopped by to see how things were going, and promised a mention in her column. Free publicity was always a help, though if business got much better, Cass didn’t know where she would put people.
When her cell phone rang at about nine-thirty and she saw who was calling, Cass was conflicted. Part of her was thrilled that Griff was calling; another part of her was distressed. She was going to have to ask.
Walking to her office for privacy, she said, “Hello, Griff. How’s the Big Apple?”
“Noisy and fast. I’ve been spoiled lately. My blood pressure is already up ten points. Or twenty. How was your first day back?”
“Hectic. Scads of customers. Griff?”
“Yes?”
“I have to ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
“Promise you won’t be offended.”
“Sounds ominous. I promise.”
She hesitated. Gutsy as she ordinarily was, it was a question she didn’t want to ask. Maybe she really didn’t want to hear the answer—or at least one of the possible answers. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Griff, are you married?”
When he stopped laughing, he said, “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“No, babe, I’m not married. Never have been. I’ve proposed to only one person in my life, and that was Lisa Davenport when we were in the second grade.”
“Did she accept?”
“As I recall, she punched me in the stomach and ran away.”
“How terrible.”
“I thought so. Scarred me for life.” He chuckled. “Why did you ask me if I was married?”
“Someone once told me men over thirty-five who aren’t married are either gay or rejects. I know you aren’t gay, and I can’t imagine you being anybody’s reject, so that leaves being married.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Remember Lisa.”
Cass could hear the amusement in his voice and felt like an idiot for asking. “You are over thirty-five, aren’t you?”
“I am.” He rattled off his birthday to verify his age.
“You have a birthday coming up next month.”
“I do,” he said. “Are you going to bake a cake for me?”
“Probably not, but I know a wonderful bakery that makes fantastic birthday cakes. When are you coming back to Austin?”
“I’m not sure. I have several meetings set up. It might be the weekend before I get back. Will you miss me?”
“Of course I will,” Cass said. “I’ve grown very used to your company.”
They soon said good-night, and Cass began her customary closing procedure. Talking with Griff had given her a warm glow, and she smiled as she stashed the day’s take in the big office safe. Either she or Sunny would deposit the cash and checks in the bank the next day.
By the time she’d set the alarm and locked up, she was bushed. Twelve-and fourteen-hour days were a bitch. What a treat it would be to fall in bed and sleep late the following morning.
Unfortunately, her sleep was restless, and the contractor called her at seven-thirty the next morning. She agreed to meet him at the POAC office in an hour to discuss renovations. Even though she had to drag herself to the shower, stinging water and excitement about the project soon perked her up, and she hurriedly dressed and drove to the site.
The contractor, Greg Gonzales, was waiting for her, clipboard in hand. She and Sunny and Greg had gone to high school together, and he had an excellent reputation for building and remodeling. He was as handsome as ever. In fact, she’d had a major crush on him when she’d been a sophomore, but he was a senior and interested in dating older girls.
“Hey, Greg,” she called, getting out of her car. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”
He grinned. “Nope. I just got here, and I’ve been looking at some of the other houses in the neighborhood. Some are looking good, others not so good.”
“I know. As I told you, those of us who bought houses on this street are committed to restoring them to either live in, rent or sell. I plan to live in this one and rent the other, and the sooner I can get them renovated, the sooner I’ll get a return on my money.”
“I did some work on the house across the street a few years ago, and these houses all seem to be basically sound. They have good bones. Mostly they just need some repairs here and there, some updating and a lot of paint. Let’s walk through your properties so you can tell me what you want.”
They went through POAC headquarters first, discussing the changes she wanted in each room, especially the kitchen and bathrooms. Greg examined every nook and cranny and made copious notes. They did the same for the house next door.
“I think you made a good buy here,” Greg said. “With your proximity to downtown, and with the other houses on the street being renovated, your property will be worth double or triple what you paid for it when it’s fixed up. I’ll get back to you with estimates in a day or two.”
“Great, Greg. If we agree on price, when can you start?”
“Right away. My crew is finishing a big job now. Say, I notice the house down at the end of the street is for sale by the owner, and looks like it could use some work as well. Know anything about it?”
“I do. It recently came on the market. A friend of ours bought the house and moved in, planning to renovate a little at a time, but he’s been transferred to Pittsburgh. You interested?”
“I might be…if the price was right.” He winked. “It might be a good investment—and I could give you a better
deal if my crew is working on three houses right here together.”
“I’ll call you with Oscar’s number.”
“Don’t bother. I can get it off the sign.”
“Mention my name,” Cass said.
“Count on it.”
After Greg left, she wandered around the yard, with its scraggly bushes and weedy lawn, and felt real envy for Sunny’s well-kept lawn and garden. Cass could almost imagine a chamois-colored cottage with black shutters, white trim and a red door. The porch and steps would be updated and big pots of geraniums or marigolds would flank the doorway. The lush buffalo grass lawn would set off the flagstone walkway and native plants would complement the lines of the house.
She smiled and sighed. Her very own place.
What color would she paint the house next door? Maybe a pale yellow or a sage-green. Or dove gray with maroon-and-white trim. It was fun thinking about it, but she didn’t want to get too carried away. She had some money left over from the killing she’d made when she sold her Manhattan condo, and she’d saved quite a bit since she’d been home, but she’d have to be careful with costs. She didn’t have an endless supply of money to squander, and she didn’t want to overdo for the neighborhood.
Still smiling, she headed off to the paint and flooring stores for samples. She’d also need to scout around for appliances and get an idea of what she wanted—and what her budget could stand. Someone had told her there was a fantastic warehouse on Burnet Road with great deals on close-out items and stuff with tiny scratches or dents not even noticeable. And she had to think about cabinet styles and hardware and light fixtures and a thousand other details.
Her days off were going to be plenty busy. Maybe it was a good thing Griff would be in New York for the next little while.
Or not.
WHEN CASS STOPPED BY Chili Witches midafternoon, Sunny eyed her bulging tote. “What’s that?”
