by Alexa Verde
“So still a suspect.” Gwendolyn grimaced. “And now, Odetta has way more to lose than she did then. Could she... could she become dangerous?”
A shiver ran down his spine. She had a point. If Gwendolyn stood between Odetta and her newfound happiness, Odetta could decide to take desperate measures.
Frowning, Vera straightened the photo. “We need to make sure you’re never alone. And I might find someone to shadow Odetta, to be on the safe side.”
Gwendolyn’s phone rang, and he tensed. Could this be that mysterious caller again? He shifted closer, wanting to yank the phone and tell that person what he thought about those threats.
But, as Gwendolyn fished her phone out of her pocket, she said, “It’s Uncle John.”
“Take it, please,” Vera and Conner said in unison.
Gwendolyn put the call on speakerphone.
“Hello, Gwendolyn.” A loud baritone boomed from the speakers. “Just wanted to make sure you’re okay. The invitation to come over and spend time with me and my children and grandchildren is still standing.”
“I’ll be fine. Thank you, though.”
“Just be careful.” Hurried words followed a pause. “Also, I–I remembered something. Shortly before his death, your father mentioned a woman who called him. She had an alcoholic name.”
Gwendolyn blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Well, like Tequila. No, not that.”
“Brandy?”
“Yes! That one.” A deep exhale traveled down the line. “I don’t know about all of your father’s cases. It might not be much help, but—”
“I appreciate it.”
“I’ll let you go. I’ll call if I think of anything else.” He disconnected.
For a few seconds, Gwendolyn stared at her phone as if trying to remember if she’d seen the name Brandy anywhere in the files. Then her gaze moved from Vera to Conner. “Does this help us any?”
“It might.” Vera wrote the name on the board with a marker.
Head tipped down, arms tight around herself, eyes closed, Gwendolyn obviously strained her memory.
“Maybe it was someone from years before the murder happened.” He wanted to reach to her, help her, but, as much as he ached to see her at peace, he was helpless to make it happen.
Then Gwendolyn lifted her head and snapped her fingers. “Oh, I know. Three years before he died, a case nearly wrecked my father. His client swindled his business partner out of their business. Dad didn’t know about it before signing up. Well, that business partner was so devastated he tried to shoot dad’s client. Dad had to open fire to protect the client, fatally injuring the guy. Dad felt guilty, even offered assistance to the family, but they refused.”
Conner’s frown deepened as he leaned forward. “Let me guess. The wife’s name was Brandy.”
“No, daughter’s. She was in bad shape after losing her father. She would’ve been eighteen at the time of Dad’s death.” Gwendolyn sighed.
He nodded. “Time to find her then.”
“I’ll do my best.” Vera placed her marker on the desk. “I’ll need the last name and any details you have, please.”
“I’ll email them to you.” Gwendolyn’s lower lip trembled.
“Um...” Vera glanced out the window, clearly uncomfortable. “There’s also that guy you were supposed to have dinner with that evening. I’m having difficulty finding him. I might have a suspicious mind, given my line of work, but I don’t believe it’s a coincidence.”
Sitting up straighter, Gwendolyn gasped. “You think he might’ve been an accomplice?”
Vera nodded. “That’s a possibility.”
A shudder went through Gwendolyn.
Hurting to see her like this, Conner reached for her hands. “It’s going to be all right. I... I’ll pray for you.”
Her lips slid open, forming a little O. “What? You said you haven’t prayed since your wife’s death.”
“I...” He drew a deep breath of her gentle perfume, looked into her kind tormented eyes. “I’m going to try for you.”
Vera cleared her throat. “Maybe that’s enough for today.”
“No.” Gwendolyn pulled her hands back, her mouth setting and her chin lifting. “Let’s continue.”
“Okay then.” Vera pinned another photo under Suspects. With a receding hairline leaving him close to bald and a paunch, this guy still seemed to age better than the sculptor. Though his face was wrinkled, his blue eyes were bright. “Uncle John. Sorry, but he did have a motive, and your father trusted him enough to meet up at a questionable site, I’m sure.”
“Yes. I know,” Gwendolyn said through gritted teeth.
Vera turned around, looking guilty for casting doubt on someone her friend trusted. “The police checked his alibi. His late wife said he was with her all night.”
Gwendolyn swallowed hard. “O–okay. Now, what do we know about that navy-blue sedan I keep seeing?” Was she trying to change the topic? “All the things that remind me of Dad? I know it’s difficult to find a car without knowing the license—”
Vera held up a hand. “Difficult but not impossible. Heather and I are working on it.”
He was impressed and said so.
“Please.” Vera waved off his praise. “This is my job, and I’m starting to like it again. Now, I need to check on my husband, the baby, and the children. And Danica’s kitten. She mentioned wanting to paint its nails, too.”
Despite the grim mood, Conner couldn’t help chuckling. He was glad he and Daisy could become part of this family, though his situation was still a bit precarious. The Clark men didn’t fully accept him yet.
Later, as he and Daisy stepped out of the mansion, her mittened hand in his, her cat ears underneath her hood, the door opened and closed behind him, and he turned around.
Vera stood on the porch. “You’re falling in love with my friend, aren’t you?”
Women in this family didn’t waste time.
He liked it. “More than half the way there already.” Then he lowered his voice. “But we both have issues from the past we haven’t resolved yet. Besides, I live in Texas. It’s a long way from here to Texas.”
Hands on her hips, Vera pinned him with a stare. “It’s an even longer way from Russia to the US. But if my great-grandparents thought your way, I wouldn’t exist.”
Chapter Eighteen
After her long day running after children—marathon runners should consider babysitting as part of their training program—Gwendolyn appreciated the peace and quiet of Conner’s room in the Cowboy Crossing Bed & Breakfast.
She smiled as he appeared in the room, more handsome than ever, masculine even in a fun snowman Christmas sweater.
Yesterday’s image of him in a brown cowboy hat, Wrangler jeans, and cowboy boots appeared uninvited, and her heartbeat increased.
Be still, my heart.
Maybe opposites attracted in friendships and not just in love. Like Daisy’s friendship with Danica, who was her polar opposite, so was Gwendolyn’s friendship with Vera and—please!—Liberty. Vera’s toughness and Liberty’s outspokenness complemented Gwendolyn’s soft shyness. Gwendolyn had rarely reached out to people, so when the women of the family reached out to her, it was a relief.
God didn’t mean for her to be alone, after all.
But then... Wasn’t she going to be alone again once she left Cowboy Crossing?
Daisy clapped as Conner placed a popcorn bowl on the coffee table, and its buttery aroma spread in the small but cozy room. “Thanks, Daddy.”
It had taken them a few days to get together for that movie he’d suggested during their first actual date. Yes, they were dating!
“Happy to do it, Sweetie Pie.” He planted a kiss atop his daughter’s head, then handed the remote control to Gwendolyn. “Daisy, we’re going to let our guest tonight choose a movie, okay?”
“Yes, Daddy.” Daisy climbed onto the sofa and snuggled up to Gwendolyn.
The wave of tenderness invoked by the girl’s
trust was difficult to ignore. Gwendolyn surprised herself by choosing a children’s Christmas movie she thought Daisy might like.
It had been a while since she’d seen a Christmas movie. She’d done her best to book work for the holidays each year. Working was better than spending them alone or even with friends. This holiday season had changed her.
Transformed her into a different person.
But was she brave enough to reach for her dreams now?
As they started watching the movie and Conner’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, her pulse quickened, and longing unraveled inside her.
A longing for a family and—okay!—a cat to share her Christmases like in the movie. Hmm, Daisy adored cats. What if...
Gwendolyn did a mental headshake. No, best not to think about it. And as much as Gwendolyn loved felines, a cat might remind Conner about the accident when he’d lost his wife.
Hmm... His words about a stranger pulling him out of a car about to explode niggled at her, but she wasn’t sure why.
Daisy munched on popcorn and laughed at the child’s antics in the movie, and more tenderness claimed Gwendolyn’s heart.
She whispered to Conner, getting an intoxicating whiff of his cologne. “You asked at the sleigh ride whether happiness was only an illusion. For me, happiness is what I feel right here. Right now.”
She didn’t add “with you,” but she didn’t need to. It was clear enough, wasn’t it? Her breath caught. Did she say too much?
He brushed his lips against her cheek. “I feel the same way.”
As his hot breath caressed her ear, it was a good thing Daisy was snuggled up against her, or Gwendolyn might do something crazy like kiss him.
Daisy handed her the popcorn. “Eat some, please, Miss Gwendolyn.”
The smile on that adorable face tugged at her as she munched on buttery popcorn too. That smile reminded her of other adorable grins that greeted her every day.
Hmm, her contract with this family turned out to be a blessing. Working with children was exhausting but rewarding. They were so much fun and still so pure, so trusting, so untouched by the dirt of the world that she’d blossomed among that purity like never before.
By the end of the movie, Daisy’s eyes closed, her breathing evened out, and she seemed to drift off to sleep. She whispered something, and Gwendolyn leaned toward the girl to catch the words.
“I like you, Miss Gwendolyn. Come home with us.”
Everything inside Gwendolyn stayed still as she looked up at Conner. Thankfully, the girl didn’t expect an answer as her eyes stayed closed and her breathing evened out further.
Because Gwendolyn could only give her one answer.
It wasn’t possible. Was it?
She looked into Conner’s brown eyes and realized he didn’t hear what his daughter had just said. But did he feel the same way?
A different movie started, about horses and a struggling family, and she could relate to how they healed each other. She felt he could relate to it, too. As his fingers laced through hers, a pleasant wave washed over her, and she placed her head on his shoulder. There was that connection again. She could relate to him better than to anyone else.
As if God had created this man just for her.
As if Daisy could be her daughter.
The connection felt wonderful. Maybe it was good to look out from her shell of loneliness and feel the sunshine of a bond on her skin.
“It was about the horse for me, too,” she said quietly.
Not a horse. The.
“It often is.” His gaze warmed.
She dared to venture out a little more. “She was a chestnut mare. Maybe the color attracted me to her first.” She gestured to her hair. “She was a thoroughbred, a former racehorse. After retirement, she was passed from one hand to another before she ended up with Grandpa.”
Moving from one place to the other was another thing she could relate to. No wonder she took one look into those eyes and felt a kindred spirit. That didn’t change even when the mare had kicked and bucked.
“Let me guess,” Conner filled in her pause. “She was labeled difficult. I dealt with horses like that. People were upset with them when in reality horses were scared of a new environment. Besides, some people don’t know how to communicate with horses, and they blame animals for that. What did your grandpa do?”
“Nothing.” She waited for his reaction. For years after her father’s death, she felt like that horse with a broken spirit.
He nodded, his understanding blanketing her. “That’s what I’d do, too.”
So he knew what she meant. Doing nothing signified giving the horse time to adjust to an unfamiliar environment and a new herd. Allowing her to accept the new human as part of the herd before asking her to do things.
Of course, Gwendolyn had groomed the horse, fed her, mucked her stall, made sure she was healthy, had a veterinarian visit her, and so on. But for some time, she’d let the horse be.
She’d learned another valuable lesson from Grandpa and horses those days. “We should learn to be still. Only in those times, can we listen to God. And in a lesser degree, listen to ourselves.”
Conner didn’t say anything, but his gaze became pensive. ”I haven’t listened to God in too long. Much less to myself. I feared what I might hear.”
“There’s no time like now.”
Huh.
When did the movie end?
“True. There’s no time like now.” His gaze moved to her lips, and his breathing quickened. Then he looked into her eyes again and brushed her curls aside, causing a quick breath intake. “I’m going to put Daisy in bed. Don’t leave, okay?”
“Okay.” That pleasant wave spread in her again.
She wanted to follow him as he carried the little girl into her room. But her phone vibrated with an incoming call—thankfully, she’d turned off the sound—and she stayed on the couch.
She checked the screen, and Vera’s name transferred her to reality. She swiped to answer and pressed the phone to her ear. “Hello, Vera.”
“Is this a bad time?”
She glanced at the hall. Even if Conner returned while she talked, he’d understand. “No.”
“Okay. No suspicious activity with Odetta so far. I talked to Ron, and naturally, he denied ever wanting to harm your father. He said he’s been trying to change his past around. Then he started giving me compliments. Imagine that. I stopped that fast. He lives in Kansas now. His parole officer and employer both confirmed he hasn’t left the town for months. I don’t think he’s the person driving the navy-blue sedan. Besides, he wouldn’t know those details about your father’s favorite things.”
Good point. Gwendolyn shivered. “Do you think the sculptor, Mr. Cohen, might be it?”
“It’s a possibility. I’m checking all the rental companies for anyone who rented a car with that description. Despite it being older, I have a feeling it’s a rental—probably from a low-rate rental company.”
Gwendolyn heard footsteps, and her heartbeat increased. “Thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome. I’m still looking for Brandy. I’ll keep you posted.” Vera disconnected.
That was what a true friend did. Vera was there in the time Gwendolyn needed her. As a newlywed with a doting husband and a baby—even if the baby wasn’t hers, Vera adored the child—she had every right to dedicate her time to them. Not to a friend she hadn’t seen in a while. But she’d come through for Gwendolyn.
Friends like that were gifts from God. Gwendolyn’s heart squeezed. She didn’t want to move away. She’d miss them all. Sometime during this holiday season, she’d left her shell and allowed people in. What was she going to do now?
Conner entered the room, smiling. “Daisy is asleep. But she woke long enough to ask whether we’re going to see you tomorrow.”
Gwendolyn couldn’t help but return his smile. “Yes. I mean, I hope so.”
Despite him not being truthful with her from the beginning, she sta
rted to see that a man like that was a gift from God, too.
But did she dare to accept it?
Her pulse spiked as he claimed the cushion near her, and his proximity and spicy cologne wreaked havoc on her senses. This was the first time they’d been alone without a little chaperone, restaurant patrons, or at least horses present.
Her head spun from the thought. She knew they wouldn’t go further than kissing, but even the thought of a kiss made her dizzy. Their gazes met and held, apprehension swirling between them. Losing herself in his mesmerizing eyes, she didn’t want to be found.
He traced the outline of her jaw with his fingertips. “All I can think of right now is kissing you.”
Her eyes widened, and her heart started thundering. She did her best to hold on to a rational thought. “Wait. Before I get carried away...”
He smiled again, and that smile could melt the Antarctic. “Before we get carried away.”
He was so close that, if she angled her face a little, she could claim his lips with hers. Somehow, she managed to relay Vera’s conversation.
“I don’t want anything to happen to you. Gwendolyn, I... You...” His eyes darkened. “You mean a lot to me.”
She felt as if she were floating on clouds already. “Yes. I mean... I–I feel the same way about you.” A pleasant wave of anticipation rippled through her.
When he brushed his lips against hers, tentatively, slowly, euphoria conquered every cell in her body.
Then a child’s yell filtered through her mental fog. “Daddy, I wanna glass of milk!”
Chapter Nineteen
Once Daisy was safely in bed again—after drinking two glasses of milk, then about an hour later a few sips of orange juice, then later getting her plush cat—and Gwendolyn was gone far too soon for his liking, Conner called his mother.
She was a night owl, after all, and he didn’t want to skip a day without talking to her.
