In Search of the Long-Lost Maverick

by Christine Rimmer

  Sleep was elusive, though. After a couple of hours of punching her pillow and tossing around, she ended up turning the light back on, propping her pillows against the headboard and pulling open the nightstand drawer, where she’d stuck the diary that Wilder Crawford had refused to take back.

  In the lamplight, the gemstones on the front glittered at her as if in welcome. She reminded herself that she’d already read the sad story cover to cover. She needed to shut the drawer and turn off the light.

  But she didn’t. She got out the diary and read it again. It was just as sad the second time. She cried at the end. And then she blew her nose and dried her eyes and read the brief letter addressed to a girl named Winona who had the same last name as the kind old woman who lived up the street from her parents’ house in Rust Creek Falls.

  She fell asleep like that, with the lamp still on, the diary open across her knees and the creased letter in her hands.

  In the morning, her neck ached from sleeping sitting up and she had to go heavy on the concealer to cover the dark circles beneath her eyes.

  * * *

  DJ’s Deluxe had a whole different feel than the DJ’s Rib Shacks that had made DJ Traub famous. Instead of picnic-table ambiance, the interior was all rich woods with accents of hammered copper and brushed nickel. The long bar was a shiny expanse of gleaming teak. Somehow, the restaurant managed to be warm, inviting—and exclusive. The place had a casual feel, but in a very upscale way.

  Mel spent the day shadowing the current manager, who left at six.

  Gwen Fox, the assistant manager, took over. Mel followed Gwen around the front of the house until seven, greeting customers, making sure everyone was happy with the food and the service. It was your usual Monday night in the restaurant business, meaning the pace was slower than most nights, a good night to train.

  At seven, she left Gwen to handle the front of the house and went into the kitchen where the chef, Damien Brutale, ruled. Her plan was to help expedite if necessary, but really, she just wanted to observe, watch the staff get the food out, see how efficiently they worked together, get a feel for everything they were doing right as well as for what might need improvement in the future.

  She’d been in the kitchen for five minutes, max, when Gwen came racing down the hallway from the dining room. “Mel.” Mel left the serving line and went to her. “A customer would like to speak with you.”

  “They asked for the manager?” Since Mel was training for the next few nights, Gwen would logically have dealt with any customer issues.

  “No. He asked for you by name.”

  “Has this customer got a name?”

  Gwen leaned a little closer. “It’s Gabe Abernathy.”

  Chapter Two

  “I know you’re new to Bronco,” Gwen said, keeping her voice low. Confidential. “Do you know Gabe?”

  Annoying butterflies danced a ridiculous jig in her belly, but Mel kept her voice noncommittal. “We met the other day. Briefly.”

  “You don’t know him well, then?”

  “No. Not at all, really.” Okay, yeah. She had laid practically her whole life story on him and then kissed him with some serious tongue. But still, that didn’t mean she knew the guy.

  “Heads up, then. The Abernathys are an important family around here.”

  She knew that already, courtesy of Amanda and Brittany. And why had she made the mistake of telling him her full name and where she would be working? “Thanks, Gwen.”

  “He’s at the bar.”

  “I’ll just go and see what he wants, then...”

  Mel found him sitting alone at one end of the bar. Looking all kinds of gorgeous in dark-wash jeans, a crisp white shirt and a lightweight jacket, he already had a whiskey, neat, in front of him.

  As soon as he spotted her, his fine mouth quirked with a grin. He patted the empty stool next to him.

  She moved close but didn’t take the offered seat. “Gabe.” She leaned an elbow on the bar. “Got a problem with the service?”

  “The service is excellent.”

  “How was your meal?”

  “Right now, I’m just enjoying a drink—and admiring the view.” His gaze skated over her black pencil skirt and white silk shirt. “Very professional.”

  “Thank you. So then, no complaints on the service and you haven’t ordered yet. What can I do for you?”

  Those clear blue eyes made a bunch of intimate suggestions. “How’s the new job going?”

  “Surprisingly smoothly for a first day.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “Gabe, why are you here?”

  “I like this place. I eat here often.”

  “Well, all right. Tonight, I’m training. Gwen is the one you should ask for if there’s anything special you need.”

  He seemed to be studying her. The silence between them spun out. Finally, he asked, “When’s your first night off?”

  She considered refusing to tell him. But he would only keep after her until she gave it up. “Thursday.” She knew what was coming next.

  And she was right. “Let me take you out to dinner Thursday night.”

  “It’s not a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  She glanced at the bartender, who seemed to be minding his own business setting up drink orders for one of the waitresses and taking care of the customers at the other end of the bar. “Are you pursuing me, Gabe?”

  He gave her that killer grin again. “Damn straight.”

  “Well, pursuing me will get you nowhere. Remember that cheating fiancé I mentioned the other day?”

  “How could I forget?”

  “He chased me. I knew it wasn’t smart to get involved with the boss’s son. I kept saying no. He kept asking. Took him a year to get a date. My mistake. I never should have said yes to him. Todd Spurlock was a lesson I won’t forget.”

  “I’m not Cheating Todd, Mel. I think you know that.”

  She held his gaze and kept her voice low and firm. “I mean it, Gabe. It’s not going to happen.”

  “I like you. I want to see you again.”

  She wrapped her arms around her middle to keep from gesturing wildly with them. “Have you heard a word I’ve said?”

  “Yep. You have my undivided attention.” The quietly spoken statement caused more of those fluttering sensations in her belly.

  “What I’m trying to make you understand is that this time, I’m not letting myself be caught. Chasing me will get you nowhere.”

  He picked up his drink and took a sip, setting the glass back down with care. “How many ways can I say it? I’m not Todd.”

  “But you did lie to me. You pretended to be a broke cowboy.”

  “No, I didn’t. You asked who I was. I gave you my name.”

  “Just your first name,” she accused.

  “If you’d asked, I would have told you my last name, too. But you didn’t. I said that I lived there—and I do. Did you know you were on Abernathy land?”

  She’d had no clue. “No, I did not.”

  “Well, there you go. Then you called me a lonesome cowboy and I said that I was. I can rope and ride and I’ve been working around cattle since I learned how to walk. The way I see it, that makes me a cowboy. As for the lonesome part, sometimes I do feel kind of lonely, so I qualify on that score, too.”

  She scoffed. “You’re a rich guy from an important local family.”

  He picked up his glass again and kind of wiggled it at her. “You sure you don’t want a drink?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “So about Thursday night? I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  Did the man ever give up? “You’re not getting it. There’s also a big problem with your name.”

  “What? Now you don’t like the name Gabe for some reason? My full name is Gabriel. You can call
me that.”

  “I like Gabe just fine. It’s your last name I’m not comfortable with.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s wrong with Abernathy?”

  “There were Abernathys in Rust Creek Falls.”

  “There are Abernathys a lot of places.”

  “Well, in Rust Creek Falls, so the story goes, the Abernathys sold off their ranch and left town suddenly, without a trace. Like in the dead of night, never to be seen or heard from again. At the time, there was a lot of whispered speculation about the things those Abernathys got up to, the kinds of things that would make a whole family run away in the night. They were a shady bunch, the Abernathys of Rust Creek Falls.”

  He gave a low laugh. The sound made the nerve endings tingle up and down her spine. “That’s quite a story, Mel.”

  “It’s a known fact that you can’t trust an Abernathy.”

  “You’re just yanking my chain,” he accused in a low, sexy rumble.

  She had to press her lips together to keep from smirking. “You can take it.”

  “Have lunch with me tomorrow out at the ranch. I’ll introduce you to Malone. He’s been the family cook for longer than I can remember. You’ll love him. You can ask him anything you want about me and he’ll give it to you straight. Malone knows where all the bodies are buried.”

  “There are bodies?” Should she be alarmed?

  “Settle down, Mel. It’s just a figure of speech.”

  “I’m serious,” she insisted. “I’m not falling for any of your lines.”

  “Lunch.” He kept pushing. “Just lunch...”

  Actually, she was kind of curious to see his ranch. And maybe this Malone person had Abernathy family secrets he would share. Maybe the Bronco Abernathys had some connection to the ones who had vanished from Rust Creek Falls. Maybe the answers to the questions posed by Josiah’s diary had been right here in Bronco all this time, just waiting for her to come and root them out.

  Yeah. Hardly likely.

  However, having all the dirt on Gabe could be fun. She really wasn’t going to date the guy. But her so-called lonesome cowboy was wildly attractive and she very much enjoyed giving him a bad time. Lunch at his ranch could present any number of delicious opportunities to rattle his cage.

  Then again, being near him was kind of like wandering into Daisy’s Donuts back home and ordering a dozen of their amazing maple bars—all the while promising herself she would only eat one. The man was too tempting by half and the whole idea was not to fall for another smooth-talking rich guy.

  No, she reminded herself. Just tell him no. But when she opened her mouth, what came out was, “Lunch. Tomorrow. At your ranch. But it’s not in any way a date. I’m just, you know, curious about what the Bronco Abernathys are really like.”

  That got her his full-on smile. It was nothing short of a secret weapon, that smile. All of a sudden, her cheeks felt hot. Was she blushing? The gleam in his eyes said she was. “Give me your number and your address,” he instructed. “I’ll pick you up at—”

  “Uh-uh. I’ll drive myself.”

  “I’ll still need your number to text you directions.”

  She should grab a napkin and tell him to write the directions down. But maybe that would be skirting a little too close to out-and-out bitch mode. “Give me your phone,” she said.

  He picked it up off the bar, unlocked it and passed it over. She sent herself a text. Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

  “Be there at eleven,” he said. “I’ll show you my place and then we can walk over to the main house to eat. It’ll be casual, buffet-style. But Malone always puts out a good spread. I’ll arrange for you to talk to Malone privately, so you can find out all my dirty secrets. You can also meet my dad and mom—don’t freak.” Had he seen the panic in her eyes? “I get it. You’re not in the market for a boyfriend and you don’t want to meet any guy’s parents. But they live there and lunch in the main house is kind of a thing. You can ask them questions, make up your own mind about the Bronco Abernathys. You’re going to find we’re not as shifty as you seem to think.”

  * * *

  The next day, Mel had no trouble finding her way to the Abernathy ranch.

  It took maybe twenty minutes to reach the turnoff from the state road. A few minutes later, she was driving right past the spot where she’d parked for her impromptu picnic the other day.

  The ranch was beautiful—rolling, open land where cattle grazed peacefully under the endless sky. Fields of wildflowers stretched off toward the mountains, small stands of cottonwoods and the occasional tall pine dotting the landscape here and there.

  It was almost eleven when she made the final turn down the long, graveled driveway that led to a cluster of buildings in the distance. Up ahead, one of those fancy iron ranch signs arched over the road, with rustic split-rail fencing running off into the distance on either side. On the rolling prairie land beyond the sign, she could make out giant barns, several sheds and a few large houses scattered about on low, rolling hills.

  Gabe and his family had clearly done all right for themselves.

  Her pleasure at the sheer beauty of the setting vanished completely, though, when she got close enough to read the sign.

  In black wrought iron, stretching over the road with a wagon wheel mounted to either side, was the name of the ranch.

  The Ambling A.

  The sight had her hitting the brakes hard enough that she bumped her head on the rearview mirror.

  “Ouch!” For a minute, she just sat there with her foot on the brake, the car idling in the middle of the graveled road, rubbing her head, more than a little creeped out.

  How likely was it that a random family named Abernathy in Bronco would call their ranch by the same name as the Abernathys who had suddenly vanished from Rust Creek Falls?

  Didn’t it make more sense that the Abernathys from her hometown were related somehow to Gabe’s family, that they’d named their ranch here after the one in Rust Creek Falls—or possibly the other way around?

  She would have to look into it. Maybe. As soon as the hair on the back of her neck stopped standing on end every time she thought about it.

  Maybe Gabe’s family had heard of the other Ambling A and decided they liked the name. But if they had, wouldn’t Gabe have said something last evening when she’d given him a hard time about those other Abernathys running away in the dead of night?

  And wait. Was she making a really big deal out of nothing at all?

  Probably.

  Easing her foot off the brake, she drove on, under the sign, past an ostentatious log-cabin mansion to a slightly smaller place of natural stone and cedar, with log accents and lots of big windows.

  Gabe greeted her at the wide, rough-hewn front door wearing faded jeans, rawhide boots and a worn plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. He looked more like the lonesome cowboy she’d met that first day than the rich man who’d shown up at DJ’s last night.

  For a long, sweet minute or two, he just stood there in the doorway, grinning like the sight of her had made his day. “Right on time.”

  There ought to be a law against men as good-looking as Gabe. “I had excellent instructions. And Google Maps.”

  He stepped back and ushered her inside, where a lean, brown-spotted dog sat looking up at her hopefully through big chocolate-brown eyes.

  “Who’s this?” she asked.

  “Butch.”

  “German shorthair?”

  “Most likely. And Lab and maybe beagle. Butch is a little bit of everything. Go ahead and say hi.”

  The mutt let out a whine of happiness as she knelt to stroke his head and give him a good scratch down his back.

  “He’s one of Daphne Taylor’s rescues,” Gabe explained. “Daphne’s a rebel, I guess you might say. The Taylors are arguably the most influential family in town. The
y have a hand in just about everything that goes on around here, but Daphne’s kind of turned her back on all that. She runs an animal sanctuary called Happy Hearts. You want a dog or cat or maybe a goat, a chatty parrot or a really good-natured pig, I’ll introduce you to Daphne.”

  A pet? She hadn’t had a pet since her senior year in high school when her childhood cat, Bluebonnet, headed off to that big scratching post in the sky. Todd, the cheating jerk, had been allergic to pet dander—or so he’d always claimed. “I’m not sure they even allow pets in my building. But an animal sanctuary, that sounds interesting.”

  “Say the word. I’ll take you there.” He was giving her that look again, the one that melted her midsection and lowered her IQ by several points.

  “Not going out with you,” she reminded him, her voice strangely husky to her own ears.

  “It’s not a date if we go to Daphne’s animal sanctuary. It’s me helping you to put an end to your sad state of petlessness.”

  The man was just way too good at this. He elevated flirting to a high art. “I’ll think it over.”

  “Can’t ask for more,” he said mildly.

  “Right.” He could and he would and they both knew it, too. “Your house is beautiful.”

  “I had it built a couple of years ago. The main house has plenty of room, but my dad and I get into it now and then. It’s better having my own place to go to. Come on. I’ll give you a quick tour.”

  He led her through the rooms. The living area had floor-to-ceiling windows, vaulted wooden ceilings and a huge natural stone fireplace with a mantel made of a giant log. In the rustic-style kitchen, she admired the gorgeous granite counters and chef-quality appliances. As for the master suite, you could fit her whole apartment inside it with room to spare. The bath in there had heated slate floors, dual vanity sinks, a walk-in shower and a big clawfoot tub.

  “You live here alone?” she asked as he led her back to the living room.

  “Just me and Butch. But I’m open to sleepovers.”

  “I’ll bet you are.”