“I mind.” Lorelei was starting to feel slightly crazed. She really should have taken a break to eat earlier. The few instances of spectacular temper in her past had frequently started with an empty stomach and low blood sugar.
“Uh…maybe we should go, Dwayne. We could always check out that Admiral Nimitz Museum over on Main. Some people say they’ve seen—”
“But we’re here already,” Dwayne whined. He shot Lorelei a rebuking look. “What could it possibly hurt just to let us look around while we wait out the storm? You don’t even have to come with us. Have you experienced any cold spots? Unexplained electrical phenomenon? We just want to compile data on any possible paranormal—”
“Turn you two morons loose unsupervised? I don’t think so,” Lorelei said. “I want you out of here.”
“Morons?” Dwayne gasped. “Now look here—”
“Ghosts don’t exist! They’re an invention of horror writers and superstitious people who don’t know how to let go.” Or how to help their daughters let go. Lorelei clenched her fists. “I suggest you stop obsessing over the afterlives of total strangers and get a life yourselves.”
From behind her, a deep voice agreed, “You heard what the lady said. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
“Sam!” Lorelei whirled around.
He was the last person she’d expected to see today—his note had said he wouldn’t be back until Tuesday. His entrance through the back door must have been masked by the ongoing thunder. He looked so sane and solid, standing there in a black long-sleeve shirt and jeans, his customary hat tipped back just enough on his forehead for Dwayne and Dwayne’s slightly less moronic friend to get the full impact of his glower.
Dwayne gulped. “When might be a better time to—”
Sam took half a step forward. “Goodbye, gentleman.” Perfectly polite words, yet they were laced with enough menace to send the two unwelcome guests scrambling.
Once the men were gone, Lorelei turned back to her unexpected ally. “Thank you.” She could have kicked them out herself—had been in the process of doing so—but Sam’s presence had certainly expedited the process. What she appreciated the most wasn’t even that the men were gone, it was the chance she’d been given to regain her emotions. For a second there, she’d wanted to yell and throw things and she wasn’t even sure why. The two men had been a little insensitive, but the chasm between her and her mother had hardly been their fault.
He looked uncomfortable with her gratitude. “Don’t mention it.”
So what could she safely mention? They’d parted on rather tense terms. Was he disappointed that she was still here? Had he thought about their charged encounter in the hallway the other night? Lord knew she had.
Cheeks heating, she ducked her head. “Have you eaten? I’m about to make soup.”
“Sounds good. See you after I change.”
With his clothes being so dark, she hadn’t immediately realized how wet they were. “Don’t cowboys carry umbrellas in their trucks?” Back in Philadelphia, she kept two different size umbrellas in her car, as well as a first-aid kit, emergency cold weather supplies, a spare tire and jumper cables. She’d opted against a flare because of the potential fire hazards and dangerous gases.
He peered at her as if she were speaking a foreign language. “I’ve helped rescue cattle in flooding situations. I was pretty sure I could get from the truck to the inn without an umbrella.”
“Right. Sorry. Carry on.” Lorelei’s face heated and she marveled at the fact that with one glance he’d made her feel as if perfectly sensible preparations were ridiculous. Or OCD. She couldn’t relate to a man whose occupation—not that he seemed to have a steady, constant job—involved activities like riding in rodeos and rounding up cattle in storms. It seemed as if he deliberately sought out risk.
He disappeared up the stairs. Putting thoughts of Sam out of her mind, she studied the spiral notebook that had captivated the two men and sighed. Speaking of people I can’t relate to. Was it possible Wanda had shared more in common with those men than with her own daughter? Wanda had always seemed more interested in fancy than reality—even though that reality included a scared little girl who needed her.
“What the hell?”
Wondering what had upset Sam, Lorelei hurried up the stairs. His door was ajar and she could see him—hatless, shirtless, but still wearing the damp jeans like a second skin—standing in the center of the room. “Everything okay?”
He shook his head and pointed, but she had to step farther inside to see what he was indicating.
She looked toward the bed. “Oh, dear.” Her eyes widened, and she tried to suppress a laugh. “I guess Oberon wasn’t too happy about you abandoning him.” The cat had left several…mementos of his displeasure atop the quilted comforter.
“He’s not happy?” Sam ground his teeth.
“Try to take it as a form of flattery,” she suggested sweetly. “He must have really missed you while you were gone.”
He picked up a white T-shirt from the back of a chair. She tried not to watch the ripple of muscles in his arms and back as he shrugged into it. “Do you think,” he began, his words slightly muffled for a second, “that if we put demon cat in a box and left him on Ava’s doorstep she’s softhearted enough to keep him?”
“Ha! No way anyone’s getting that cat into a box without losing a limb.” Not unless they laced his kibble with whiskey and waited for him to pass out.
“You might be surprised.” Sam turned to face her, studying her for a moment with those hypnotic green eyes. His tone took on an uncharacteristic aw-shucks innocence she didn’t buy for a second. “After all, I’ve had a lot of experience with livestock. Gentling the orneriest, feistiest creatures is pretty much my specialty.”
WHILE SAM CLEANED HIS bed and carted linens to the laundry room, Lorelei returned to her soup preparations. She diced onions, carrots and celery. Whack, whack, whack. The thud of the knife against the cutting board was a bit harder than necessary but cathartic. Arrogant cowboy. Unless she was very much mistaken, he’d just lumped her in with his assessment of ornery livestock. Whack. If he made so much as one patronizing comment about breaking in fillies, she was going to—
“Smells good,” he called as he walked into the kitchen.
She didn’t bother answering as she scraped the vegetables into the pot of simmering broth, along with healthy doses of garlic and freshly ground black pepper.
“Impressive.” Sam sounded surprised. “When you said soup, I assumed you were opening a can.”
Because he didn’t think she could cook? “It’s only impressive when I have a whole chicken and make the stock myself.” Although that took a lot longer, and she was hungry now. She cast a critical eye at the ingredients lined up on the counter. “That’s not the pasta I would normally use, either.”
He chuckled. “I grew up with a man who had exactly two specialties, only one of which was edible. I’m not picky.”
With both of them in the kitchen, the rain outside didn’t seem so dreary. It was almost…cozy. But that was an illusion, she reminded herself. After all, they’d been here before—and it hadn’t ended well. In her career, she spent a lot of time looking at past trends and trying to minimize risk. She was smart enough to make that work for her in her personal life, too.
“I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow,” she said. “Come back early to check on your inn?”
“I was helping with a trail ride. You may have noticed this isn’t optimal riding weather.” He leaned his elbows on the counter and watched her, his expression inscrutable. “Glad I got back when I did, though. You seemed upset.”
“It wasn’t a big deal. I shouldn’t have let those two guys get to me.” She spun away from Sam and his too-close scrutiny and began loading things into the dishwasher
, her tone brisk. “That was…uncharacteristic. I normally have control of myself.”
“And you think that’s a good thing?” Sam asked softly. His tone wasn’t argumentative, but it was difficult not to feel defensive.
“Of course I do. I built a career on analyzing facts, then making smart decisions. People need to do more of that and less uninformed reacting. Can you imagine how much better off we’d be if everyone stopped making emotional snap judgments?”
When he said nothing, she looked back at him and was surprised to see him shaking his head and grinning.
Why should she be stung that he didn’t agree with her rational perspective? Growing up in this area, she’d always felt like the odd woman out. Sam was just continuing the tradition. “You find my outlook amusing?”
“No, ma’am. I wasn’t laughing at you—just the irony. See, I made one of those snap decisions on the drive back. I’d been trying to decide how to tell you about it.”
If he needed to tell her, then it obviously affected her. Despite the words she’d just spoken about not reacting until you had all the pertinent information, nervousness fluttered in stomach. “Wh-what kind of decision?”
“You don’t like that your mama left me in the inn,” he said. “And, truth is, I don’t want it. I have other things in my life that are important to me, and I’m not looking for more. But it feels disrespectful to Wanda simply to hand the place over to you. She could have done that herself and chose not to for reasons of her own.”
“Okay,” she said slowly. She was following his logic so far; she just wasn’t sure where he was leading. “So…?”
“Frederick-Fest kicks off this weekend. I know your mom really wanted you to be here for that.”
Something painful twisted inside Lorelei. The last few conversations she’d had with her mother—the last conversations they would ever have—had been Wanda imploring her to come and Lorelei refusing. If Lorelei were the type to subscribe to mystical explanations, she might have questioned whether her mom had somehow had a premonition that this would be their last opportunity to share the town tradition.
“Here’s what I propose,” Sam began. “You stay for Frederick-Fest, run the booth your mother has already paid for and accompany me and a few tourists on the Haunted Trail Ride next Friday night. And when we get back, I’ll sell you the B and B for a dollar.”
“Plus there might be legal fees or closing costs for transfer of ownership,” she said absently, still trying to wrap her mind around what he’d just offered. “I know the festival was a big deal to Mom, but she never mentioned any trail ride.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Afraid you can’t rough it for a night, sleeping on the ground so far from civilization? Might do you some good.”
“So this is what, simple pettiness on your part? A hoop I have to jump through before you’ll let me have the inn?” I can handle one lousy camping trip.
“Is that really what you think? I was serious when I said it might be good for you. Being out there is…a balm to the soul.” He said it challengingly, as if expecting her to mock his words. “More importantly, it’s a ‘haunted’ ride—legends shared around the campfire, passing through areas where so-called ghosts roam. The kind of stuff your mother loved.”
And I hate.
“Do this for her. You might even have fun.”
“I don’t understand you. Logically, it makes no sense for you to even give me the inn, much less care whether I stay for the week.”
He regarded her solemnly. “Your mother cared.”
Lorelei believed that if she met his bizarre conditions, he’d truly give her the place to sell. With the tourism in the area, she was confident she could find a buyer. Even she had to admit there were great attractions nearby. There were all kinds of activities and landmarks for nature enthusiasts; history buffs enjoyed the Pioneer Museum and National Museum on the Pacific War. The Fredericksburg Music Club and the Hill Country Film Festival added touches of culture. Then there was the boom in the regional food and wine industry. On highway 290 alone, leading into town, there were ten wineries, including Lorelei’s favorite, Grape Creek. Plus, she’d heard that a major cooking competition was taking place in the area, drawing even more publicity.
Fredericksburg was a great destination. For people who didn’t have her memories.
She cocked her head. “And are you planning to stay at the inn for the duration of the festival?”
“That’s a problem?” The question seemed to catch him off guard. “We’ve been sleeping under the same roof so far.”
Not for the past two nights. And that last night he’d spent at the inn, when she’d found him in the kitchen… She recalled the glint in his eye, the way he’d leaned toward her in the hall. Her breathing quickened, and she stirred the chicken in with the pasta and vegetables, keeping her gaze locked on the soup.
“No problem at all!” she chirped, mentally kicking herself for even posing the question. For the first time, she wondered about his usual sleeping arrangements. “Where do you stay when you’re not here?”
“Variety of places. I have a trailer on some pasture land that’s home base. For work in this area, staying with Wanda was always more convenient.” He nodded toward the stove. “And the cooking here was always a hell of a lot better.”
At that, Lorelei smiled. Her mother had been quite a cook. She’d always encouraged Lorelei to plan her own birthday menu, telling her no request was too extravagant. On Lorelei’s eighth birthday, they’d had a four-course dinner of different kinds of German cookies, followed by a trip to one of the town’s amazing chocolatiers. Looking back, Lorelei was stunned she hadn’t ended up with a monster stomachache and a mouthful of cavities.
Reliving the memories made her feel strangely exposed, and she was glad when Sam stepped away from her.
He opened a drawer at the end of the counter and pulled out a deck of cards. “You play poker, by any chance? Blackjack? Figure we have a few minutes before the soup’s ready.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t gamble.”
He smirked. “Thought as much.”
So she was predictable? It was mildly annoying, but she was secure enough not to throw herself into a chair and say “deal me in,” just to prove him wrong.
He sat at the table, long legs stretched in front of him, and started laying out the cards for solitaire.
Lorelei couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen anyone play the game with actual cards. Usually, it was through a phone app or at the computer while waiting on hold to talk to someone. “You own a cell phone?” she heard herself ask.
“Sure.” He flipped over a black ace. “Made a lot more sense for me than a landline. Why, you want the number?”
She shook her head. “I was just…wondering.” Idiot. What had she thought, that just because Sam was good with horses and wore a cowboy hat he wouldn’t know how to text? Fredericksburg might be a historic town, but Sam was not some pioneer frontiersman.
Frankly, she couldn’t decide what he was.
He managed to do or say something that surprised her nearly every time they spoke and it irked her that she might be easy for him to peg while he remained a mystery. Her mind was naturally drawn to studying something—or someone?—until she fully understood it. Yet caution warned that prolonged observation of Sam Travis could lead to more complications than answers.
Chapter Seven
Sam was too accustomed to waking before sunrise. Wednesday was a rare day off before he spent Thursday and Friday helping set up for the festival. Technically, he could have slept in—yet when his eyes opened at six-thirty in the morning, he knew he might as well start his day.
He could call Grace Torres after breakfast and let her know he had some time free. She’d asked him a couple of weeks ago about a
few minor renovations she wanted to make to her family’s restaurant, The Twisted Jalapeño. He liked Grace. The young woman didn’t fuss and cluck over him like Ava and the other town matrons, nor did she size him up greedily like Barbara Biggins, as if she’d heard that “ride a cowboy” song one too many times. Grace was too preoccupied with her restaurant to have any romantic agendas, which made her easy to be around.
Interesting logic. Because, far as he could tell, Lorelei Keller was about the least romantic woman he’d ever met, but her company certainly wasn’t “easy.” Corporate priorities aside, she made him uncomfortable in ways he didn’t entirely understand or care to examine.
He shook his head and swung his feet to the floor. Lorelei would be gone in less than two weeks. How she made him feel was irrelevant.
It wasn’t yet seven when Sam left his room and headed for the kitchen to brew some coffee. But the minute he rounded the corner, the rich, heady scent greeted him and he realized Lorelei had beat him to it. She stood at the counter in a pair of skinny jeans and a cream-colored tank top. Her dark hair was wet, and Sam’s body tightened at thought of her in the shower.
He cleared his throat. “You’re up early.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Can’t seem to shake the habit, even on days I’m not going into the office. But I actually have a reason this morning. Ava and I are going to caravan to San Antonio and drop off my rental car. Since I’ll be staying longer than originally planned,” she said pointedly. “I’ll just have to bum rides off people for the duration of my stay.”
“I can take you to and from the festival next week,” he offered.
“Thanks.” But from her dry tone, he guessed she was recalling that he was the reason she had to go to the festival.
“You’ve talked to your boss, right?” Did guilt motivate his question? Generally, Sam wasn’t one for second-guessing himself, but he couldn’t help wondering if his gentle blackmail had been such a good idea.
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