There’s No Place Like Texas
Sam Travis doesn’t like to be tied down. He’s used to picking up work all around the Hill Country, including odd jobs for Wanda Keller, an older woman who treats him as a son. When Wanda suddenly dies, her estranged daughter shows up…and Lorelei Keller turns out to be more than he bargained for.
Polished—some might say uptight—Lorelei left Fredericksburg in the dust years ago. Coming home for her mom’s funeral sends her into a tailspin of regrets. But that’s nothing compared to the shock of learning that Sam has inherited her mother’s B and B. Did the sexy cowboy manipulate his way into her mother’s heart? Lorelei is determined to clean up this mess, and then get the heck out of Texas. For good this time.
Because there’s nothing to keep her there now…except maybe Sam?
“I’m about to pour a glass of milk and cut into the German chocolate cake. You want a piece?”
Finding herself temporarily mute, Lorelei shook her head. At her silence, Sam turned around. Their eyes locked, and she was glad she stood in the shadows. Maybe he couldn’t see the blush heating her cheeks. Although she’d been infuriated by the hateful way he’d spoken to her earlier, the anger didn’t stop her instinctive female appreciation of his broad shoulders and bare chest. Knowing he’d defined those arms and abs working hard under the Texas sun somehow made them even more appealing than muscles honed through an expensive gym membership. It was a damn shame the man ever wore a shirt. Her gaze slid involuntarily down his body toward the denim waistband of his jeans.
The corner of his mouth kicked up. “You stare any harder, you’re going to bore holes in me.”
The warmth in her face ignited to full-on flames. She opened her mouth to snap that she hadn’t been staring, but the lie stuck in her throat. She settled for, “Don’t be conceited. Haven’t you displayed enough character flaws for one day?”
Dear Reader,
Texas is a huge state, made up of many regions that are each special in its own way. In my new Hill Country Heroes miniseries, I get to share some of my favorite aspects of the Texas Hill Country—from outdoor recreation to generations of history and folklore to the award-winning vineyards. (The Frederick-Fest event mentioned in all three books is fictional, but it’s based on the many real festivals that take place throughout the year in Fredericksburg.)
My first Hill Country Hero is cowboy Sam Travis, who was raised on a ranch by his bachelor uncle and has never truly felt like he fit in anywhere. The closest thing Sam has to family these days is his sometimes landlady at a Fredericksburg bed-and-breakfast. When she dies unexpectedly (and leaves Sam the B and B) it’s difficult to say who’s more shocked, Sam or the woman’s estranged daughter, Lorelei Keller. Knowing how much Mrs. Keller had missed her daughter and had wanted her to come home, Sam talks Lorelei into staying for an annual festival, as a way of honoring her mother’s last wishes. When Lorelei agrees, two people who’ve always felt like outsiders might finally find the place where they fit—with each other.
If you get a chance, I highly recommend you visit the Texas Hill Country. In the meantime, I hope the stories make you feel like you’re there!
Best wishes,
Tanya Michaels
Tanya Michaels
Claimed by the Cowboy
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Three-time RITA® Award nominee Tanya Michaels writes about what she knows—community, family and lasting love! Her books, praised for their poignancy and humor, have received honors such as the Booksellers’ Best Bet Award, the Maggie Award of Excellence and multiple readers’ choice awards. She was also a 2010 RT Book Reviews nominee for Career Achievement in Category Romance. Tanya is an active member of Romance Writers of America and a frequent public speaker, presenting workshops to educate and encourage aspiring writers. She lives outside Atlanta with her very supportive husband, two highly imaginative children and a household of quirky pets, including a cat who thinks she’s a dog and a bichon frise who thinks she’s the center of the universe. You can visit her at www.TanyaMichaels.net.
Books by Tanya Michaels
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
1170—TROUBLE IN TENNESSEE
1203—AN UNLIKELY MOMMY
1225—A DAD FOR HER TWINS
1235—MISTLETOE BABY*
1255—MISTLETOE CINDERELLA*
1270—MISTLETOE MOMMY*
1279—MISTLETOE HERO*
1311—THE BEST MAN IN TEXAS
1321—TEXAS BABY
1343—HIS VALENTINE SURPRISE
1368—A MOTHER’S HOMECOMING
* 4 Seasons in Mistletoe
HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION
968—HERS FOR THE WEEKEND
986—SHEER DECADENCE
1008—GOING ALL THE WAY
This book is dedicated to Jane Mims (what would I do without you?) who graciously chauffeured me around the hill country in spite of the world’s most diabolically uncooperative GPS.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter One
The fifth floor of the insurance company was impressively quiet. Nothing so crass as noise leaked from the opulent and distinguished conference rooms at the end of the long corridor—which made junior actuary Lorelei Keller want to cringe at the staccato echo of her navy pumps against the marble tile. She preferred to stand out in meetings because she possessed a lightning-quick mind, not because everyone could hear her coming from a mile away.
As if her footfalls weren’t making her self-conscious enough, the cell phone in her jacket pocket suddenly buzzed. Even with the ringer turned off, the vibration seemed loud in the empty hall. She fished the phone out to check the display screen and scowled. Though no name showed, the 830 area code meant Fredericksburg, Texas. More specifically, her mother. Again.
Exhaling an impatient breath, Lorelei turned the phone off completely and repocketed it. Wanda Keller was her only immediate family and Lorelei loved the woman. But mother and daughter were painfully dissimilar. Graduating from an Ivy League university had been easier for Lorelei than getting through to her mom. Not that I’m deliberately avoiding her. She fully intended to call Wanda back later, after business hours. Headed into a meeting with one of the company’s top executives was not the time to rehash their argument about Lorelei’s refusal to visit at the end of the month.
“You loved Frederick-Fest as a child,” Wanda had burbled just two days ago, sounding as enthusiastic as a child herself. She claimed the timing of the weeklong March event would be extra festive this year, since its dates fell over St. Patrick’s Day—never mind that their ancestry was German, not Irish—and the spring equinox.
“But I’m not a kid anymore,” Lorelei had pointed out as gently as possible. “I have adult responsibilities, like a job I worked hard to get.”
“They have to give you vacation time, don’t they?” Wanda had persisted.
Lorelei had bit her tongue to keep from saying anything cruel. Like, I’m not about to use up vacation to come help sell crystals and hand out bookmarks on the protocol for “What to Do if You Encounter a Hill Country Ghost.” “I’ve got a really busy mont
h ahead of me, Mom.”
Wanda’s voice, which had been by turns cheerfully cajoling and stubbornly challenging, fell to a barely audible level. “You haven’t been home in over a year.”
Home. How could Lorelei explain that Texas hadn’t felt like home since her father had died twenty years ago? Her freshman year of college, Lorelei had joked with her roommate about “Philadelphia freedom” because moving to Pennsylvania truly had liberated her. She’d been free of living in a house that was a shrine to her dad, free of her mother’s increasingly bizarre beliefs. Lorelei had soothed her frazzled nerves with the orderly logic of numbers and let her first snowy Pennsylvania winter numb a decade of tangled emotions.
“You know I had to cancel at Christmas because I had the flu,” Lorelei had defended herself. “I’ll come down for a visit this year. I promise.”
“When?”
“I don’t know, Mom. Soon.” Soonish, anyway. “But not this month, okay? I’ll look at my calendar, talk to my boss and get back to you.”
Her mother had sighed, clearly skeptical. “Sure. I’ll be here.”
Reaching for the door to the conference room, Lorelei gave a quick shake of her head, her long dark hair swirling about her shoulders, and banished the memory of her impulsive promise. Now was the time to focus on the more pressing topic of risk management. One of the few women in her department, she was determined to distinguish herself among her colleagues. She straightened her spine and stepped into the office, her footsteps now swallowed by the plush carpet. But a last lingering stab of guilt pierced her. I’ll talk to my supervisor tomorrow about vacation time. Conscience appeased, Lorelei lost herself in the two-hour meeting, all thoughts of Texas and her mother pushed aside.
LORELEI WAS SEATED AT her desk, immersed in notes for a liability audit, when a male voice said, “Knock knock,” from the doorway. She glanced up to see Rick Caulden.
He flashed a knowing smile. “You forget about me again? Reservations? Tuesday night? Any of this ringing a bell?”
“Of course I remember. I’ve been looking forward to our dinner. I just thought you were going to call when you got here.” She enjoyed her periodic dates with the handsome attorney.
Employed by a law firm several blocks away, Rick worked as hard as she did. He was charming but refreshingly unsentimental. They shared the same pragmatic streak and career drive.
“Tried calling,” he said. “Kept going straight to voice mail, so I decided I should come up, find out if your meeting ran long and if I was on my own for dinner.”
“Oh, right—I turned my phone off before the meeting and totally forgot to turn it back on.” A mistake, or a Freudian slip? Had she deliberately left it off because she suspected Wanda would call back? Maybe Lorelei had been trying to avoid the guilt trip of feeling like an ungrateful daughter yet again.
As soon as Lorelei repowered the phone, a message bubble appeared. She frowned. “Wow, that’s a lot of missed calls.”
“At least three of them are me,” Rick said.
And the other six? “Hang on a sec.” She stood, gathering her purse and coat. “I just want to check voice mail before we go.”
“Sure.” He smirked. “I always make our reservations for fifteen minutes later than I tell you. I know how difficult it is to drag you out of the office.”
Under different circumstances, she might have pointed out that she spent an equal amount of time waiting on him or assuring him she didn’t mind canceling because he needed the extra time to prepare a motion or speak with a client. Right now, she was more concerned with her messages than Rick’s unexpected double standard.
Because of the 830 area code on the missed calls, Lorelei assumed her mother was phoning from one of the hotel lines instead of her private number. But it wasn’t Wanda’s voice that greeted her.
“Lorelei? I don’t know if you remember me, but this is Ava Hirsch.”
As if Lorelei had been gone so long she wouldn’t recall her mom’s best friend? Though Ava’s husband was of the vocal opinion that Wanda was “a gallon shy of a keg,” the two women had always been inseparable.
“I’m calling…” Ava stopped, sniffed and tried again. “I’m calling about your mother, dear.”
At the end of the sentence, Ava’s voice broke and the world tilted beneath Lorelei’s feet. She groped blindly for her chair.
“Lorelei? What is it?” Rick’s concern sounded miles away; Ava’s condolences were even more distant, fading beneath the pounding in Lorelei’s ears.
But Lorelei didn’t need to hear the rest of the message to know. She was going home to Fredericksburg, after all.
Chapter Two
Sam Travis was well-versed in the ghosts of Texas lore—he’d shared many a local legend with tourists around the campfire—but he’d never felt haunted until now.
No matter which room he moved to in the bed-and-breakfast, he still saw his landlady, eccentric Wanda Keller, who had been mothering him on and off for the past three years. Maybe I should have left with the others. As of this morning, there had been two other guests staying at the inn. Another proprietor in town had promptly offered them free rooms in light of the tragedy. Wanda had been well-liked in town, even by loners like Sam.
Sam worked multiple seasonal jobs that kept him in motion, but he always circled back to Wanda’s, helping her with minor repairs and enjoying her cooking for a week or so before leaving again. It had taken him over a year of just being able to show up, his usual room always vacant, before he’d realized that she held it perpetually open for him. When he’d insisted she shouldn’t do that, she’d called him dummkopf and responded that it was her inn and she’d do whatever she liked. This B and B, now painfully devoid of her presence, was the closest thing he’d had to a home since the dusty bunkhouse where his uncle had raised him.
But not close enough that he wanted to own the place. He recalled the shock on Ava Hirsch’s tear-streaked face that afternoon—it had mirrored his own.
“What do you mean, she left it to me?” Too flabbergasted to keep his voice down, Sam had earned angry glares from all the nearby nurses.
Behind her wire-rimmed glasses Ava’s eyes had been the size of poker chips. “You didn’t know? I never would have said anything. I thought…”
Sitting alone in the dimly lit kitchen hours later, Sam raised his half-finished beer in an affectionate toast. “Still meddling from the great beyond, Wanda?” She’d always nagged him to settle down. If Ava were right about the change to her friend’s will—something Sam still didn’t quite believe—then maybe it was Wanda’s gentle way of coercing him into putting down roots.
He shook his head at the asinine idea of him as a hotel manager. Granted, this was a very small hotel, but that made it worse. Guests expected a personal touch, that extra dose of folksy hospitality. On the trail, in his element, Sam did just fine with tourists as long as they followed his rules about the horses. Most clients who wanted to rough it had a certain expectation of what their guide would be like. His occasionally gruff demeanor fit the part. He didn’t have Wanda’s gracious nature. The first time some the-customer-is-always-right twit complained about sheet thread count or something equally ridiculous… Well, being raised by a cantankerous bachelor uncle was not the same as attending charm school.
Even though he wouldn’t be staying, he was touched by the gesture. If she had bequeathed him the inn, her intentions were good. Wanda may have been trying to give him a home—which was more than his actual mother had ever done—but she seemed to have overlooked that what he’d loved most about the inn was gone. He’d once got jalapeño juice in his eye, and it had burned like hellfire. His dry, unblinking eyes stung far worse now.
“Place won’t be the same without her,” Sam declared aloud.
A plaintive, otherworldly yowl of agreement came f
rom the floor. Sam nearly jumped until he realized that the reclusive white cat had finally made an appearance—his first all night, although he’d halfheartedly eaten the small plate of food Sam pushed under the bed.
“You miss her, too, don’t you?” Sam reached down to scratch Oberon’s head, which the cat tolerated for a millisecond before scooting back, his ears flat and his yellow gaze suspicious. The feline had worshipped and adored Wanda Keller, but regarded all other human beings with contempt.
Sam might have made a sarcastic comment, such as telling the cat to have fun opening its own damn can of tuna tomorrow, except he couldn’t forget the pet’s distress earlier. It had been Oberon who had found Sam in the kitchen and let him know something was wrong, meowing anxiously, tail twitching, constantly glancing back over his shoulder, as if he wanted Sam to follow. Although Wanda normally rose at sunrise to roll out dough for breakfast, Sam had assumed she was sleeping in because of the bad headache she’d mentioned last night. He’d tried to help out by brewing coffee for everyone and putting boxes of cereal around the bowl of fresh fruit on the dining room table.
Sam had followed the cat to her room, but there was nothing to be done. She’d gone in her sleep; the doctors diagnosed a ruptured brain aneurysm. When the paramedics had tried to take the body, Oberon had launched himself at them in hissing attack. Attempts to get hold of the cat had proven futile, and the feline disappeared under Wanda’s bed, where he’d begun a low, spine-tingling wail. When Sam had returned from the hospital, Oberon had still been there, his cry hoarser than it had been hours before but just as heartfelt. Sam believed the cat was ornery enough to have tried stalking the ambulance, if Wanda had ever installed a cat door. She worried about him ending up in traffic and getting hit by a tourist watching for street signs.
Now, Oberon sat back on his haunches and studied Sam as if assessing him. The uneven triangle of black fur around the cat’s left eye added to his sinister expression. When his slim body tensed to pounce, Sam wondered if he was about to get lacerated for letting them take Wanda away. Instead, the animal shot into Sam’s denim-covered lap and circled twice before curling into a warm ball. Sam was shocked, but assumed this was a temporary truce. They were each saying goodbye to the only family they’d had.
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