Tangled Up in Texas

by Delores Fossen

  Shaw did the whole mental argument with himself. Then he did what he’d known he would do from the moment she’d asked for this favor. He nodded and heard himself say, “I’ll do it. We’ll keep it low-key. Just enough to satisfy Em.”

  That didn’t earn him the tongue kiss he was starting to fantasize about, but Sunny did rub his arm, as she’d done when they were on the road. Chaste and friend-like. Not the gesture of a woman who’d just gotten him to agree to what would no doubt be a string of cold showers in his immediate future. Even if a faked romance could lead to actual sex, Sunny wasn’t in any shape for that.

  In fact, it might be a really long time before she was ready.

  “Is your recent breakup playing into this?” he asked.

  “Possibly. Probably,” she amended. “I don’t want anyone feeling sorry for me about that, either. Or trying to get me into therapy because I’ve ended two engagements or have that stupid label of Runaway Fiancée. It’s too much attention, and I’ve had enough of that to last me a couple of lifetimes. Okay?”

  Shaw had to give her a nod for that, too. He wasn’t big at being on the receiving end of sympathy, but thankfully he didn’t have to deal with it very often.

  Not Sunny, though.

  She’d practically been born into the spotlight and had had to deal with way too many people knowing way too much about her. Shaw had gotten a taste of that when they’d been a couple, and it hadn’t been a good thing. He doubted it would be this time, either, but the show would be all for Em and no one else.

  Speaking of Em, he turned to leave so the woman could come in, but Sunny caught onto his hand. “What will you do about Kinsley?” she asked.

  Well, he certainly couldn’t give her anything positive when it came to this. “Don’t have a clue. Got any advice?”

  Her forehead bunched up. “Don’t pee outside in a windstorm.” Sunny smiled and gave his hand a squeeze. “Sorry, but that’s about as good as you’re going to get from me right now.”

  Her voice cracked. The smile vanished, and Shaw saw something he didn’t want to see. Sunny’s eyes suddenly had a shimmer in them. Tears. She was blinking back tears.

  Hell.

  “Pain?” he asked.

  She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. “Just more of those emotions that I know you don’t want to deal with.”

  Maybe that was it, but Shaw wouldn’t rule it out. Another thing he couldn’t rule out was that he was a sucker for those tears, which was why he reached out and gently eased Sunny into his arms. He brushed a kiss on the top of her head just as the sob broke from her mouth.

  And just as Shaw heard Kinsley.

  “I knew it,” the girl said. Shaw looked up and saw her standing in the doorway. “She’s crying because I hurt her. Sunny was just trying to help, and I hurt her.”

  “Oh, dear,” Em muttered. She was also there, standing right next to Kinsley.

  “I’m fine,” Sunny insisted, and Shaw had to hand it to her—she did a fast job in the tear-drying-up department. She wiped them from her cheeks, did some more heavy blinking and faced Em and Kinsley with a plastered-on smile.

  Sheez, it was a bad one. As fake as some of the scenes she’d played in Little Cowgirls. Obviously, all those scenes hadn’t helped with her acting abilities because Shaw could tell that Kinsley and especially Em weren’t buying it.

  “My poor girl,” Em said. She went closer, but she didn’t reach for Sunny. It was as if the woman was afraid Sunny would break if she touched her.

  “Good grief,” Sunny whispered, the words hitting against his neck. She didn’t have to come out and say it, but this was what she was trying to avoid.

  And Shaw had a fix for it.

  He hadn’t intended for Kinsley to be in on this charade, but that was okay since the girl likely wouldn’t be around Lone Star Ridge for much longer. That’s why Shaw leaned back enough to locate Sunny’s mouth, and he kissed her. No peck of friendly reassurance. Nothing that smacked of fakery. Nope. He went full in, tongue and everything.

  Shaw instantly got a nice buzz. The kind that alerted his body to start getting ready for a whole lot more. He reined in the more when he sensed some movement in the doorway. Sunny must have, too, because at the same moment and with her still in his arms, they looked in that direction.

  “I hope you didn’t get a bloody mouth this time,” Em murmured. “And Sunny, you make sure you don’t kick him in the privates again.”

  Good advice. But Em wasn’t the only one witnessing this. Dr. Mendoza was behind Em and Kinsley. And Ryan.

  And Tonya, the reporter.

  Who clicked their picture.

  Apparently, this “all for show for Em” had just gone up some Texas-sized notches.

  CHAPTER SIX

  SHAW RARELY HAD the urge to throttle a person, but he had that urge now. Damn Tonya. And damn how she would almost certainly try to use Sunny and her pain and misery to get a story.

  Since he wasn’t sure he could hold on to his temper, Shaw went back into the waiting room and well, waited. There wasn’t enough distance, though, between him and the examining room, because he heard plenty of the conversation now that the door was wide open.

  Dr. Mendoza handed Sunny a piece of paper. “The scrip for your meds,” he said, and he immediately took out his phone. Without sparing the reporter a glance, he called the police station and requested an officer come ASAP to escort Tonya out of the building. “I’ll be filing charges against her for violation of patient’s privacy and applying for a restraining order.”

  Tonya might have been a pesky jerk, but apparently she wasn’t a complete idiot. She turned and left, likely deciding that a run-in with a small-town police force wasn’t a good idea. Whether she would stay gone was anyone’s guess. For that matter it was also a guess if Mendoza could get that restraining order.

  All of that was food for thought, but Shaw had his own food and thoughts to worry about.

  News of the kiss would get out, no doubt about that. This was a small town and Tonya could possibly still be in the waiting room, probably hanging on every word she could make out. As soon as she thought she had all she could get, she’d start the gossip. Gossip that Sunny hadn’t especially wanted, but the kiss might do its job and distract Em.

  It seemed to have distracted Ryan, too, because he had a puzzled look on his face when he left the examining room and walked toward Shaw.

  “Don’t hurt her,” Ryan warned him, and suddenly he didn’t sound so much like a teenager. “Sunny’s been hurt enough already.”

  Agreed, and he nearly blurted out that there’d be no hurting, not in the romantic sense, because Sunny didn’t have those kind of feelings for him. However, if he said that, he’d have to explain the favor he was doing for Sunny.

  Okay, the lie.

  If the truth got around, he’d be reneging on the favor he’d agreed to do. So, Shaw figured on this particular subject, silence coupled with an agreeing nod were the best responses here.

  “She wants a baby, you know?” Ryan threw out there.

  “Still?” Shaw wished he’d kept his silence on that, too. Yes, he’d known since they were teenagers that Sunny wanted a baby, but he didn’t see how that applied here. “Did Sunny have a miscarriage or something?”

  “No. She never got that close to having one with my dad.” Ryan paused. “But I think that’s why she got involved with him. She thought he’d give her a baby.” He opened his mouth to say more and then waved it off. “She wouldn’t want me to talk to you about this.”

  Again they were in agreement, because Sunny knew that fatherhood wasn’t in the cards for him, either. In all those long chats they’d had as teenagers, they’d only disagreed on two things. Kids and Garth Brooks. Sunny had been a fan of both and Shaw wasn’t.

  “You’ll make sure that Sunny and Em get back to the house?” Sh
aw asked the boy.

  Apparently, silence and a nod were Ryan’s preferred responses, as well, and several moments later when Sunny, Em and Kinsley came out, Ryan went to Sunny to take hold of her arm.

  “We’ll talk soon,” Sunny told Shaw, hesitating as if she didn’t know what to say or do. There was a lot of that going around today.

  Shaw and Kinsley walked out behind Ryan, Sunny and Em, and they watched as Ryan helped Sunny and Em into the SUV. The boy then took the bra bag from Em and tossed it in the back. Maybe someone would bury the darn thing so it couldn’t do any more damage.

  What now? Shaw asked himself as Ryan drove away. He and Kinsley couldn’t just stand there, and since he still hadn’t heard from Leyton, that left Shaw with limited options as to what to do about Kinsley.

  Shaw turned to the girl. “Should I drive you to your mom’s and see if we can—”

  “No, she doesn’t want me,” Kinsley snapped. “I can’t go back there.” She took his mother’s purse from the backpack and thrust it into his hand. “I’ll be fine on my own.” And with that completely untrue, BS last sentence, she started walking away from him.

  Shaw sighed, something he figured he’d be doing a lot until this situation was resolved. There’d likely be plenty of groaning, too. Still, he couldn’t just let her hitchhike to God knew where.

  “You’re coming back to the ranch with me,” he said, and Shaw made sure it didn’t sound optional. Then, he added some sweetener to the sting of his order by tacking on, “If Marty comes to Lone Star Ridge, that’s where he’ll go.”

  As he’d figured it would, that stopped her in her tracks. She turned, and he saw something that made him want to curse. Way too much hope on her face. “You think he’ll come?”

  Rather than out-and-out lie with a yes or bash her hopeful expression with a no, Shaw shrugged. “Leyton, my brother...our brother,” he amended, “is the sheriff, and he’s trying to get in touch with him. If anyone can find Marty, it’s Leyton.”

  That last part was the truth, but it was because at this exact moment, Leyton was the only person who was pressing to contact Marty. Shaw would get in on that and make some calls, too, but first he had to get Kinsley back to the ranch, where she’d be safe. For the rest of the afternoon anyway. Maybe that would give Aurora time to cool off and remember that Kinsley was her responsibility.

  “Come on,” Shaw said, heading toward his truck. He didn’t exactly hold his breath, but it was somewhat of a relief when he heard her clomping boots follow him. There’d be no breaths of relief for him though until he had the girl back safely where she belonged. Then, maybe he’d make a voodoo doll of his father and use some very large pins to jab Marty in the dick.

  Before he started the engine, Shaw fired off a text to his mother to let her know he’d be coming back with Kinsley. He added another text to Leyton to press him for an update on Marty or Aurora.

  “You’re not going to yell at me for hurting Sunny?” Kinsley asked when she climbed in the truck’s passenger seat.

  “No, it was an accident. A stupid one but still an accident.” He paused, then drove toward home. “Did Sunny yell at you?” But he already knew she hadn’t. If so, Shaw would have heard it. Plus, he’d never known Sunny to be a big yeller.

  “She said she didn’t blame me, that it wasn’t my fault.” She glanced over at him. “Was that kiss for real, or do you feel sorry for her or something?”

  “For real.” And he wondered how many more lies he would have to tell to keep up with this favor. Of course, it wasn’t a total lie since there’d been some real honest-to-goodness heat behind the kiss.

  Heat that bothered him.

  He wasn’t sure how much pain Sunny was in. Probably a lot. He also didn’t know how fast she’d recover. Or if she would. Really, the only thing he knew right now was that she’d had surgery and that it hadn’t been cancer. Good news, but it could have a big-assed asterisk next to it if this had shaken Sunny to the core. And it appeared to have done just that.

  “I’ve never had more than a bad cold,” Shaw grumbled, not aware he was going to say that aloud until it came out of his mouth.

  Kinsley gave him a funny look but didn’t press him on it. Which he was thankful for. He definitely didn’t want to talk to the girl about the woman who’d rung his sexual bell for two decades.

  When Shaw pulled into the driveway of the ranch, he saw exactly what he expected—his mother standing outside waiting for them. So was his head ranch hand, Rowley Blake. That was a reminder to Shaw that he’d let some work slide to deal with Kinsley and Sunny.

  “Give my mom back her purse and apologize to her for taking it,” Shaw said, thrusting it at Kinsley as she’d done to him in the parking lot. “And you sure as hell better not steal another thing.”

  Shaw couldn’t add “or else” to that because he couldn’t think of a punishment or consequences he could actually enforce. That was even more reason he shouldn’t be handling stuff like this, because he obviously sucked at it.

  Maybe out of habit or to try to save face, Kinsley huffed, got out and went to his mother. Shaw couldn’t hear what Kinsley mumbled, but it caused Lenore to smile and slide her arm around the girl.

  “Come in,” Lenore insisted. “I’ve made you a special sandwich.”

  As Lenore started leading her into the house, Kinsley glanced back at Shaw, and he shook his head, hoping the girl would pick up on the concept that “special” and “mystery” were alert words for something she definitely wouldn’t want to eat. Thankfully, there was fruit and milk in the fridge so Kinsley wouldn’t go hungry before Shaw could get her out of there.

  “A problem?” Shaw asked as Rowley made his way to him.

  “Some,” the hand verified. “That guy we hired last isn’t working out and needs to be let go. He’s just plain lazy. There was also a problem with the pickup of those Angus. Problem with the feed order, too.” Rowley paused. “But it looks as if you’ve got your own worries,” he said, eyeing Kinsley as Lenore and the girl went inside. “She’s Marty’s?”

  Shaw nodded, and he heard Rowley blow out what appeared to be a breath of relief.

  “I won the bet then,” Rowley went on. “About half the hands thought she was yours and Sunny’s, but I figured on Marty.”

  So, that’s the direction the gossip was going. Shaw nearly told Rowley to set the record straight with those who believed he’d been the one to screw up and get a woman pregnant, but it wouldn’t do any good. Sometimes, protesting too much just made folks dig in their heels.

  Shaw’s phone dinged with a text, and when he saw Em’s name on the screen, he wanted to read the message right away. It could be an update about Sunny. But it wasn’t.

  Come over tomorrow night around six. I’ll fix Sunny and you a nice romantic dinner. She could use some cheering up.

  Shaw frowned, especially at the last sentence. He seriously doubted he could help much in the cheering-up department, but it’d give him a chance to talk to Sunny, to see how she was really doing. At least that’s what Shaw told himself when he answered with, Thanks. I’ll be there.

  As soon as Shaw hit Send, his phone rang. Not Em this time but rather Leyton, thank God.

  “Deal with whatever problems you can fix,” Shaw told Rowley as he stepped away. “I’ll be in my office soon to handle the rest.”

  “Well?” Shaw said, the moment he answered the call. “Where are you and what have you found out?”

  “I’m in San Antonio. And it’s not good.” Leyton added after a pause, “Aurora’s gone.”

  “Gone?” Shaw repeated.

  “Yeah. A neighbor, the cop who pressured her into reporting Kinsley missing, told me that he saw Aurora putting some suitcases in her car about an hour ago. When the neighbor asked if she was going somewhere, Aurora said she was. She wouldn’t tell him where she was going or when she’d be back.”


  “Hell,” Shaw managed to say.

  “Yeah... Hell,” Leyton repeated. “I’m heading over to talk to SAPD right now, but it looks as if Kinsley’s going to be staying with you for a while.”

  * * *

  SITTING CROSS-LEGGED ON her bed and with her back against the headboard, Sunny swished the point of the graphite pencil over the sketch pad, trying to get the right angle of Slackers’s prominent tail feather.

  The very one that had become a phallic symbol to drunks and pervs.

  Yes, it was sort of erect and pointed, just as any tail feather should be, but in hindsight, Sunny could see how some—i.e., drunks and pervs—could believe it was a woody. A tiny fat one that looked non-woodyish when Slackers was standing or walking, but since he was a lazy duck, that meant plenty of sitting with the tail feather poking out between his spindly web-footed legs.

  Eight years ago, she’d tried to correct the woody misassumption by changing the design and minimizing the tail feather to a mere nub, but the author and publisher had gotten gobs of hate mail. Some death threats, too. And in the end the powers that be had insisted Sunny go back to the original design.

  Even though Slackers was her meal ticket, Sunny had to shake her head and occasionally let out a snort of laughter at how seriously some people took a fictional waterfowl with few redeeming qualities.

  From the corner of her eye, Sunny saw the screen of her silenced phone flash with another text message. As she’d done with the other two dozen or so messages and calls over the past five days since the now infamous bra-stabbing incident, she only glanced at the sender.

  Bennie Harper, the arsonist fireman.

  Sunny didn’t actually have Bennie’s name in her phone address book, but Em had helped her ID it when he’d first called the day before. Ditto for helping her ID the jokester mortician, the hiney-exposing cowboy and the other assortment of men who’d tried to get in touch with her. Sunny had hit the decline button on all of the calls, ignored the texts and had turned off the ringer on her phone.