Tangled With A Texan (Texas Cattleman’s Club: Houston Book 8)

by Yvonne Lindsay

  He still couldn’t believe the nerve of Detective Warren. The idea that the woman he’d left trembling last night had calmly gotten up this morning and gone straight to the hospital made him so mad he needed to do something to work it off. Preferably something to do with her. The random thought struck him square in the solar plexus, robbing him of breath. He strode through the house and out to the stables, the ride he’d been thinking of at the forefront of his mind. But then halfway through saddling up his favorite gelding, he hesitated and pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

  Since he’d left Zoe Warren last night, he’d all but talked himself into staying away from her, but it seemed that would have to take a back seat. He needed to talk to the woman and set her straight about a few things. Clearly she hadn’t been listening yesterday. He needed to ensure she listened to him today.

  * * *

  Zoe spent much of the middle part of the day back in her motel room working on her computer and going over all the information she had to date. No matter which way she looked at things, the answers she sought remained very firmly out of reach. She put in a call to her boss and apprised him of where she was so far. His response had not been heartening. Zoe’s stomach grumbled, bemoaning the fact she hadn’t picked up anything for lunch, when her reminder pinged to say it was time to meet the sheriff at the diner.

  Her mouth watered the minute she set foot in the place. A wave from a booth near the front windows drew her attention, and she walked over to the sheriff and stuck out her hand.

  “Sheriff Battle, good to see you again.”

  The sheriff stood and took her hand. “Call me Nate.”

  His grip was firm and dry, and unlike a lot of men she met in the line of duty, he didn’t seem to feel the need to exert pressure and dominance over her by crushing the bones in her hands with the introductory gesture.

  “Something sure smells good here,” Zoe commented as she slid into the seat opposite him.

  “I can recommend the pie. Of course, I am biased. This is my wife’s business.” He patted his firm stomach. “Hell of a job staying fit with that temptation in my life.”

  Zoe laughed. A waitress came over and poured her a coffee. She smiled her thanks and ordered a slice of pie to go with it. So what if it wasn’t exactly healthy to eat pie for lunch this late in the day? A woman deserved a treat every now and then, right?

  When the pie was delivered, she quickly sampled a bite and closed her eyes and made a blissful sound deep in her throat.

  “Told you it was good,” the sheriff said laconically as he leaned back against the red faux-leather booth.

  “You weren’t lying,” Zoe agreed, quickly scooping up another bite before putting her fork down and dabbing at her mouth with a paper napkin. It was time she got to the point. “What can you tell me about Jesse Stevens?”

  “Jesse?” Nate Battle looked puzzled for all of two seconds. “I thought you were after Sterling Perry?”

  “He’s been cleared. So, Stevens?”

  “You think he’s got something to do with Vincent’s murder?”

  His tone was cautious, as if he was sounding her out, even though he clearly didn’t believe she was on the right track. She explained about the voice mail message Stevens had left, then played the sound file from her phone.

  “He sure sounds annoyed,” the sheriff said mildly. “But that doesn’t mean he did anything.”

  “You don’t think he’s capable of murder?” Zoe challenged.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But?” She knew he was leaving more unsaid.

  “I just can’t see it. The man’s a hard worker, keeps to himself when necessary, steps up for the community through the Texas Cattleman’s Club on a regular basis. But murder? No. Jesse’s not the kind of guy to hold a grudge.”

  “Well, we’ll see about that when I interview him.”

  Between her and the sheriff they arranged a suitable day and time. She wasn’t worried that Jesse would run out of town. His devotion to his sister had been more than clear. He wouldn’t be leaving her while she was in the hospital, and judging by how frail the young woman was, she’d probably need some continued care at home, too. There was no way Jesse was leaving anytime soon.

  Thinking about Jesse led her thoughts to his neighbor. The guy had been defensive on his friend’s behalf yesterday—and very distracting last night every time she’d tried to draw the conversation toward her investigation. Thinking about it this morning, once her mind had cleared from the unaccustomed haze of sensual fog he’d wrapped her in, she’d begun to wonder if his attention to her wasn’t part of some greater scheme to distract her from her purpose.

  “What do you know about Cord Galicia?” she blurted.

  Battle gave her a strange look. Maybe because the instant she’d asked the question she felt heat begin to rise from her chest and up her throat. If she wasn’t mistaken, she’d be breaking out in the nervous blotches of color that used to be her curse when she was a teenager facing a stressful situation.

  “Cord? Well, he’s Jesse’s neighbor. They grew up together. Help one another out when necessary. They even learned to fly together back when they were in their late teens.”

  “But what about the man himself?”

  The waitress came and poured the sheriff another coffee, and he took his time doctoring it how he liked it before he responded.

  “He’s a decent guy. You don’t think he did it, do you? He and Jesse are tight, but Cord wouldn’t commit murder for him.”

  “I don’t know. Galicia was very protective of Stevens when I questioned him yesterday.”

  “You questioned him yesterday?” He blew out a breath. “You sure didn’t waste any time upsetting the locals, did you? I thought we’d agreed to talk before you started questioning people.”

  She heard the note of censure in his voice. “I just wanted to get a feel for where people were situated on this thing. You can appreciate that my goal is to find whoever is guilty of Hamm’s murder and charge them accordingly. I’m not here on vacation.”

  “I get that, but don’t go off like a steer at a gate. Upset folks and they’ll close ranks and you’ll get nothing out of them.”

  Zoe closed her eyes and breathed in deeply before opening them again. “I’m just doing my job. I’ve been living and breathing this case for months now. I want it solved.”

  “If it can be solved.”

  She didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. “Yeah, there’s that, too. The longer this takes, the harder it’s going to be to find the evidence we need. Everything was compromised in the flood.”

  The sheriff’s phone buzzed on the table in front of him and he glanced at the screen.

  “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to take that.”

  “Go ahead.”

  She watched as he answered the call and got up to pace the sidewalk outside the diner. After a few minutes he shoved the phone into his pocket and came back inside.

  “I have to go. Get in touch with my office to arrange a time to use the interview room. They’ll make sure you have all the equipment you need.”

  “Thanks, Sheriff. I appreciate it.”

  “And call me before you go questioning my people, okay? You may actually get a better result if I come along with you.”

  “Noted, thanks.”

  She finished her pie and lingered over another coffee before heading to the sheriff’s department, where she arranged to interview Jesse using their equipment. Apparently it would take a day or two to set up, because their camera and recording equipment were glitchy. While the news was frustrating, there was nothing she could do about it other than wait. There were probably worse places to cool her heels for a few days. The problem was she couldn’t think of any right now.

  * * *

  Cord felt a whole ton better after a hard ride, but the ir
ritation he’d felt over Zoe confronting Jesse at the hospital still prickled under his skin. He grabbed his phone and scrolled through his saved numbers, then punched the one he was looking for with a determined index finger. It rang three times before going to voice mail. Ha, she was avoiding him, was she? He contemplated hanging up without leaving a message, but where was the fun in that? Instead, he forced himself to smile as he spoke.

  “I couldn’t sleep last night for thinking about you. Call me.”

  Hopefully his message would rile her enough for her to call him. If not, well, he’d be paying her a visit. He was contemplating adding a hard swim in his pool to the ride he’d just had, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. A quick glance at the display brought a smile curling around his lips.

  “Missing me?” he answered.

  “Not at all,” Zoe said breezily. “Did you want me for something?”

  He hesitated, letting the silence play between them before speaking. “Now there’s a leading question.”

  “Quit fooling, Galicia. Why did you call?”

  “Come to the ranch for barbecued ribs tonight. Seven o’clock.”

  “What if I’m busy?”

  “You gotta eat.”

  He could feel her indecision over the phone and chose his next words very carefully. “What are you afraid of, Zoe?”

  “Not you,” she answered swiftly.

  He chuckled. “See you at seven.”

  He severed the call before she could respond. A smile wreathed his face as he imagined her irritation at not having had the last word. It was kind of fun to keep her off-kilter just that little bit. To get where she was in her line of work, she had to be some kind of dogged control freak—turning over metaphorical stones and looking for clues every day. He’d bet she wasn’t used to someone making decisions for her, and he really liked that, in this instance, it was him doing it.

  She’d turn up tonight—he’d bet his newly weaned calves on it.

  * * *

  The entire drive to the Galicia spread, Zoe cursed under her breath. The arrogance of the man, ordering her around like that. But you’re going there, aren’t you? a voice in the back of her mind taunted. You want to see him again.

  “Shut up!” she said aloud.

  Or maybe you just want him?

  The question rattled around in her mind as she rolled through the gates and up the long driveway to his house. He’d gotten her off so damn fast last night that he’d left her reeling. She hadn’t even known she could feel so much so quickly. For her, lovemaking had always been a long, slow buildup, not always followed by release. But with him? It had been mere minutes. And every sensation he’d wrought from her had made her want more.

  So, yeah, she was prepared to admit she wanted him. She couldn’t continue to fool herself that she was coming out here to question him about Jesse Stevens, especially when Stevens himself had said he’d turn up for the recorded interview in a couple of days.

  Zoe stopped her car and got out, staring at the house for the second time in as many days and admiring the stone exterior. The place looked solid, durable and reliable. A reflection of its master? she wondered. There was movement at the door, and Cord Galicia strode out, his presence commanding her eye from the second he came through the doorway.

  Yes, master was the right term for him. Master of all he surveyed? He might like to think so. She smiled inwardly. But he was no master to her. She’d come here because she wanted to, not because he’d all but ordered her presence.

  “I’m glad you came,” he said as she approached the front entrance.

  “Ribs are my weakness,” she answered with as much insouciance as she could muster.

  He showed her inside and then led her through the house and outside to a loggia. The scent of hickory smoke hung in the air and, combined with the aroma of barbecuing meat, made Zoe’s mouth water in anticipation.

  “What can I get you to drink? Wine?”

  “No wine for me, not when I have to drive back to town,” Zoe protested.

  “You could always stay.”

  Her inner muscles tightened on a swell of desire at the simplicity of his words. She shouldn’t have been surprised. She’d been half expecting it, hadn’t she? Half wanting it, too?

  “We’ll see,” she answered, keeping her words deliberately evasive.

  “Wine it is, then.”

  She didn’t argue when he poured two glasses of red wine and passed one to her.

  “Thanks. The ribs smell good.”

  “They are good.”

  “Oh, you’re so confident of your ability?”

  “Abuelita’s secret recipe,” he said with a sly wink.

  “Not so secret if you know it,” Zoe felt compelled to point out.

  “True, but she spent a lot of time showing me how to look after myself. She also told me that to win the heart of a good woman, a man needs to know how to do more than reheat a can of beans.”

  Zoe laughed. “Is that what you’re doing? Trying to win my heart?”

  As soon as she said the words, she realized they’d have been better left unsaid. A shadow passed over Cord’s face and his light mood changed.

  “Just offering some Royal hospitality while you’re here,” he said before taking a sip of wine. “What do you think of the wine?”

  She took a sip, too. “Mmm, it’s good, like velvet. I like how it doesn’t leave a dry aftertaste on your tongue.”

  “It’ll taste even better with the ribs.”

  He gestured for her to take a seat on the large outdoor rattan sofa, and she sank comfortably against the overstuffed pillows. He lowered himself in the seat opposite.

  “A girl could fall asleep here if she wasn’t careful,” she commented.

  “Didn’t sleep so good last night?”

  A flush stained her cheeks. “Look, about last night.”

  “Hmm?”

  He looked at her over the rim of his glass, and at the heat in his gaze Zoe felt her toes curl in her sensible low-heeled shoes.

  She shook her head. “Never mind. Least said, soonest mended.”

  He laughed. “Is that something your grandmother used to say?”

  She smiled a little. “Yeah.”

  “Zoe,” he said as he leaned forward, his gaze intense. “Last night was merely an appetizer.”

  Six

  Cord wasn’t sure what devil of impulse had driven him to say that to her, but it was satisfying to watch the play of raw emotion that danced across her features. He could pinpoint the exact moment she decided to take control.

  “Is that so?” she asked, arching a dark brow at him. “We’ll see about that.”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “We will.”

  Again he had the satisfaction of seeing her lose her tenuous grip on the conversation, and he decided to turn things to more general matters. He didn’t want to alienate her entirely. It was enough, for now, that she was here.

  “What do you do in your spare time?” he asked, reaching for the bottle and topping off her glass.

  “Spare time?” She laughed. “What’s that?”

  “You’re a workaholic?”

  “Aren’t you? You can’t run a spread as big as this one without long hours, right?”

  He tipped his head in acknowledgment. “But I have people I delegate to. An experienced foreman, ranch hands. Are you telling me your work is your life?”

  “My work is a very important part of my life. I want to be the best.”

  “Better than your dad.”

  “Better than everyone in my family.”

  He looked at her a little closer. Being the youngest in a testosterone-heavy family had obviously left its scars. Zoe Warren felt she had something to prove to the males in her family, and it had to be proven on their battleground.

 
“What would you have done if you hadn’t been a cop?”

  “I never wanted to be anything else, much to my mom’s great disappointment. After four boys she thought she could raise a kindred spirit. Someone who might enjoy shopping with her, attending high teas or getting pampered at the beauty shop. But that’s not me. It doesn’t mean she’s given up on me, though,” Zoe finished saying with a deep chuckle.

  “Sounds like an intrepid woman.”

  “She is. I admire her, a lot. It can’t be easy to see every person you love step out the door every day and have to wonder whether or not they’ll come home safely.”

  Cord felt that unwelcome clench around his heart that he always got when reminded of Britney. He knew exactly what Zoe was talking about, and he knew just how much it hurt when that loved one didn’t come home again. He put his glass onto the wooden table between them and got up to check on the ribs, anything to put a little distance between him and the reminder that while he may be powerfully attracted to Zoe Warren, she was first, last and always a police officer. He wouldn’t go through that again.

  The ribs were almost done. His grandmother would have been proud.

  “I’m just going to grab the salad and corn bread. Be back in a minute,” he said in Zoe’s direction.

  “Can I help?”

  “Nope. You just stay right there,” he said firmly.

  As large as his kitchen was, he didn’t want to be moving around it with her behind him. After last night he was struggling to keep his hands and his mouth to himself, and it had taken some effort to play the considerate host. To pass her a glass of wine without touching her fingers. To watch her sample the beverage without leaning forward to kiss the residue from her lips.

  Damn, he was getting hard just thinking about it. To distract himself he went to the large double fridge and pulled out the bowl of salad he’d prepared shortly before her arrival. Setting it on a tray, he then grabbed the basket of corn bread he’d put in the oven to warm. He already had utensils and plates in an old painted wooden sideboard out in the loggia.