Ray’s body heated as her eyes went starry, her happiness for Kyle and Anna apparent.
Yep, in love. Hard, fast, and absolute.
Lucy left the diner early and alone. She was happy for Kyle and loved Dr. Anna, but she wanted some space to process things.
She’d been so damned proud of herself for her brilliant job in Houston. She’d handled investments for large corporations, responsible for billions of dollars, and she’d done it well.
So proud Clyde had chosen her to be on his arm at fundraising dinners and opera openings, even though society pages the next day listed them as “Mr. Clyde Gordon and companion.” As though she was from an escort service or something.
Didn’t matter, she’d reasoned. One day the papers would list them as Mr. Clyde Gordon and Mrs. Lucy Malory-Gordon.
Sure.
For a long time, Lucy had been the one with the successful relationship, and she’d been a little smug about it. Now Grace, Kyle, and Ray had become parts of a couple—Ray and Drew were together even if Ray hadn’t admitted it yet.
Lucy was the one alone.
She kept telling herself how happy she was for Kyle, and Grace and Carter with their new baby, and Ray with Drew, and she truly was, deep down. But she also felt sorry for herself.
The bar was a good place to go after the diner. Nice to be in a town where it wasn’t weird to go to the bar by yourself. When Lucy walked in, half the place greeted her, and she knew she’d soon find old friends to talk to and share a few beers with.
The big cowboy, Hal Jenkins, turned from the bar as she entered and gave her a nod. “Lucy.”
“Hey.” Lucy took the barstool next to him and ordered a beer. Hal was comforting to be around—he didn’t demand scintillating conversation or care she wasn’t dressed to the nines with her hair perfect. “How’s it going?”
“It’s going.” Hal had once been a bull rider, and good at it, winning plenty of trophies and prize money. He now was a ranch manager, doing that just as well.
Lucy took her beer from the bartender but lingered, the two drinking in silence a moment.
“Cool about Kyle and Anna,” Hal said.
He wasn’t just making conversation, Lucy knew. Hal didn’t speak unless he had something he thought worth saying.
“Yes.” Lucy sounded too bright. “Anna is wonderful. I heard she even got into the ring as a rodeo clown.”
“Yep. She wanted to see the bull riding from the ground, so to speak, so she asked me to help her out.” Hal gave her a slow grin. “She wasn’t bad at it. But then, Anna’s great with animals.” He paused. “I’m including Kyle in that statement.”
They both laughed, Lucy feeling her tightness loosen a little. But she didn’t want it to, fearing she’d cry, so she shut it off and took a gulp of beer.
Hal leaned closer. His voice dropped, wrapping them in a bubble of privacy.
“I know what you went through—Ray told me a little. Not that I’ll talk about it far and wide. I just want you to know that if you need anything, you ask me.”
“Oh.” Lucy blinked at him.
She’d known Hal all her life, but she hadn’t paid much attention to him. He’d simply been one of her brother’s friends. Now she noted his brown eyes, intense and dark under close-buzzed black hair, the short beard he’d grown since she’d seen him last, his powerful shoulders and work-worn hands.
“Thanks,” she said awkwardly. “That’s sweet.”
Hal’s brows came together. “It’s not sweet. I mean it.” He withdrew, moving back to his bottle of beer. “I’ll be around. Your brothers know how to get hold of me.”
“Okay.” The word was faint.
Did he mean he’d help out as a friend—as Drew had offered, as Anna had? Or was he hinting at something more? Hal was like Ray—cryptic as hell.
Lucy had been burned and burned badly, but as she sat on the barstool, soothed by Hal’s silence, she wondered if, once she healed, the man on her right would be a balm for her hurts.
Drew entered the town library on Monday, notebook and pencil in hand. Erica loved her phone and tablet, but Drew liked making notes with pencil and paper. She found that the act of writing by hand helped her remember things better.
The library was larger than she’d thought it would be, much bigger than the branch that had employed her. The two-story building had been built for the express purpose of being a library, so said the plaque outside the fan-lighted front door. The interior boasted a wide staircase with a polished banister and row after row of books.
A real library, Drew thought with a thrill as she entered. One that smelled like old paper, dust motes, and time.
The librarian was a solid-looking woman with red and blue streaks in her gray hair. Her assistants were younger, one of whom gave Drew an eager smile, ready to help.
When Drew asked the assistant her question, the librarian, Dena, pushed over. “Town history is in that section.” She pointed to a shadowy corner under the staircase. “What are you looking for, specifically?”
“Anything about my grandparents,” Drew said. “I have photos and newspaper clippings they left behind, but I’m not sure how to put it all together. If I could see the original newspapers or digital copies …”
“Digital?” Dena chortled. “I’ve been bugging the county for funding to digitize our archives for years. They might get to it by the next century. Microfilm and microfiche is what we have here, as well as old hard copies, what is still intact. I don’t suppose you know how to work a microfiche machine?”
“Of course. I’m a librarian myself.”
“Ah.” Dena peered at her more closely, the bond of kinship that united librarians of the world linking Drew in. “Then you’ll understand my frustration.”
“I do. What we need, and what they want to fund is never the same.”
“Welcome to Riverbend, honey. Of course, in this town, if you want to know about the past, you ask people. They never forget.”
Drew thought about Mrs. Kaye, who’d seemed to know all about her grandparents. Dena had a point.
“I’ve found plenty of photos and articles about my grandfather and the B&B,” Drew said, “but only a little about my grandmother. I knew her—she passed away when I was a kid—but I don’t know much about her past. She never talked about her life before she moved to Chicago. My father never talked about it either, if he even knew, and I was too young to notice or be interested. Maybe if I could speak to any friends she had …”
“She didn’t have many,” Dena said, her tone turning dark. “Don’t be upset if you encounter some resistance from people to open up about her. As I say, Riverbend has a long memory.”
Drew regarded her in surprise. “Because she left my grandfather?”
“She did so much more, honey, I’m sorry to say.” Dena put her hand on Drew’s arm and steered her toward a polished door in the back of the library. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”
Ray watched Drew drive off on her quest at the library after Carter Sullivan had swung by to pick Erica up for school. Carter was the designated driver who toted Faith, Dominic, and now Erica to the elementary school.
Ray nodded to him, and Carter nodded back, the two men not needing to exchange words.
Erica, on the other hand, was already chattering as she jumped into the truck with her new friends. “Hey, Carter, guess what we found in the basement yesterday …”
Ray and Jack had uncovered beautiful solid oak paneling that could be pried out and saved to either panel the rest of the house, or—Ray’s idea—be made into doors and furniture for the new B&B. Drew had been happy they’d found something positive. Things were moving forward, one baby step at a time.
Ray, Jack, and Jack’s guys got to work to finish clearing out the basement. The electrician had come on Friday, looked around, and announced the whole house had to be redone—no surprise. Now Jack’s workers were charting out what would go where. Ray found the generator, with no fuel, of course, and d
rove into town to get some.
He spotted Drew in the town square. She stood on the green in front of the courthouse, staring at the building, while townsfolk strolled past her, sending her curious glances.
Ray slowed his truck. “Hey,” he called out the open window. “Couldn’t find the library?”
He liked how Drew’s face lit up when she saw him, how she smiled as she approached his truck. “Oh, I found it.” Her brief delight faded. “I think I found out too much.”
Ray did not like her unhappy look. “Want to grab some lunch?”
Drew grimaced. “I don’t know if I want to sit in the diner right now. I’d have to be friendly to everyone. One thing I miss about the city is I can be anonymous if I want.”
That bad, was it? Ray considered. “Tell you what. How about we pick something up at Grace’s bakery and have a little picnic. Just you and me.”
The smile returned. “I’d like that.” Drew put her hand on his truck’s door handle then hesitated. “I left my car at the library.”
Which was a block away. “No one will touch it. Hop in.”
Drew climbed readily into the big truck, and Ray drove round the corner. He parked a few spaces down from the bakery, and Drew burst out laughing.
“I could have walked here. It’s what, a hundred feet from where we just were?”
“But I’m a gentleman,” Ray said as he hopped out to go around and open her door. “I couldn’t tell you to walk and meet me here.”
Drew slid out, almost into his arms. “Yes, you could have.”
“Not my way.” Ray slammed the door and guided her to the bakery.
“I know. You’re a gentleman.” Drew looked pleased rather than exasperated, which pleased him.
They ordered from Grace’s young assistant, who cheerfully handed them a bag of croissant sandwiches, teacakes, and profiteroles. Ray drove with Drew out of town and down a side road near the Malory ranch, to a meadow edged with trees.
“It’s beautiful,” Drew breathed as she climbed from the truck.
“Yep.” Ray opened the pickup’s tailgate. “We’ll have the picnic in here. Grass will be muddy and full of chiggers.” He made a mental note to stash some blankets in his truck for next time.
Drew unwrapped her sandwich from its paper and took a bite. “Mmm,” she said in true enjoyment. “This is good.” She eyed Ray’s elegant croissant sandwich, almost lost in his big hand, and laughed. “Not really cowboy food.”
Ray shrugged. “I’ve been eating this stuff most of my life. Grace makes a mean steak, but she’s also good at the dainty, girly food.” He grinned around a bite of sandwich. “Me and Kyle love it,” he said. “Don’t tell on us.”
Drew laughed again, whatever had made her unhappy lifted for the moment. They shared the tiny cakes and the profiteroles, cream dabbing Drew’s lips.
Ray leaned over and licked it off.
Drew softened under him, her mouth meeting his in a kiss. The kiss went on, Ray sliding an arm around her and drawing her close.
She tasted like sunshine and sweet cream. Ray’s mind conjured images of him smearing the cream across her skin and feasting on her. Then he’d encourage her to do the same to him.
Her mouth was hot, body pliant against his. Ray rested his hand on her thigh, remembering how she’d snuggled against him the last time they’d shared her bed, her legs draping his.
He wished he could do that always.
The breeze sharpened, reminding Ray that they sat outdoors for the world to see.
He put a finger under her chin. “Time to tell me what’s upset you.”
Drew let out a long sigh. “The past. Lies.”
“Lies about what?”
“My family.” Drew set down her profiterole and leaned against him. “Ones they told, I mean. I went to the library today and met Dena. She took me into her office to talk, and she called Mrs. Ward—I didn’t realize the two were sisters. Mrs. Ward came over, and they told me about my grandmother.”
Ray had a feeling they hadn’t told her anything good. He didn’t know much about the Pareskys, but Mrs. Ward and Dena, who interacted with everyone in town, would have the dirt.
“Mrs. Ward and her sister are a generation younger than my grandparents, but they remember,” Drew went on. “Their parents talked a lot about them, and Dena said she listened hard. Apparently my grandmother was a wild child. This was in a decade women in small towns didn’t do anything but settle down and get married. She was a rebel.” Drew smiled, a bit proudly. “I remember that Grandmother was never conventional. Didn’t let her hair go gray or stay home to bake cookies. She ran in marathons until she made the choice not to, went to blues concerts, worked at the Art Institute, sponsored artists, had a ton of friends. Grandmother loved the city and city life. I can see why she didn’t fit in around here.”
“There wasn’t much choice for girls in Riverbend back in the day,” Ray agreed. “People were hard on ones who didn’t toe the line. Hell, they still can be.”
“Dena and Mrs. Ward looked at me hard today. I could almost hear them wondering if I’ll turn out to be more like my grandfather or my grandmother.”
“Neither one,” Ray said. “You’re just you.”
“I’m realizing why I like you.” Drew snuggled into him, putting her arm through his. “Anyway, Mrs. Ward told me about the ‘Big Scandal’.” She made air quotes with one hand. “My grandfather had always been in love with my grandmother. He chased her, and she spurned him. Then one day, she suddenly accepted his proposal, and they married a week later. End of story, right? But she had a baby eight months later, and people can count. Yes, babies can come prematurely, but my dad was full-term and healthy. Nurses at the clinic confirmed that. Half the town decided she and my grandfather’d had a little fun before the wedding, but the other half knew Grandmother had been seeing a cowboy on the rodeo circuit—the one called Nick Travis I showed you the article about. She’d even followed the rodeo earlier that season, and who knew what she got up to, and with whom? So Dena said.”
“They think she was a buckle bunny?” Ray asked in surprise.
“Apparently. It’s hard to imagine, because I only knew her when she was in her sixties. But no one’s born old, are they? She was restless and wanted adventure, probably. Erica is a lot like her.” Drew made a face. “Uh-oh. I should keep an eye on her.”
“Erica’s a good kid, and this is the twenty-first century. Little different. Though we still have buckle bunnies,” he conceded.
“So you can guess what people believed,” Drew went on. “She was seen with this cowboy, all over him, from eye-witness accounts, and then he disappears. Next thing you know, my grandfather is marrying her.”
“And she’s having a baby.” Ray nodded. “And people wonder whether the kid was your grandad’s or the cowboy’s.”
“Exactly.”
“Huh.” Ray went silent, thinking it through. “Could be why she and your grandfather split up.”
“That’s what Dena said. Maybe he figured it out, she said, and was naturally upset that the boy he thought his son wasn’t his. Whatever happened, Grandmother took my dad and left town, the state—the whole southern half of the U.S. She never, ever talked about my grandfather or Riverbend. I spent the first part of my life thinking my grandfather was dead. No one ever told me that. I just assumed.”
Ray pushed back his hat, letting his forehead cool. “Are they sure? I saw those pictures of your grandparents you showed me, and you look kind of like your grandfather. Same eyes.”
“You think so? I always looked like my dad more than my mom—but how can we know when we only have old fuzzy photos to go by?”
Ray had taken plenty of time to memorize Drew’s eyes, and would know similar ones when he saw them.
“If your dad wasn’t Paresky’s kid,” Ray said slowly. “What does this mean about property your granddad left you? Is that even a question?”
“I don’t think so, but I’m not sure. My grandfathe
r’s name is on my dad’s birth certificate—Dena said the nurses at the clinic confirmed that. So, legally, my grandfather is listed as my dad’s father, which means he didn’t openly dispute the patrimony. Maybe he didn’t want to, for fear of the truth, or maybe he didn’t want my father to be hurt.”
“Your grandfather left you the B&B,” Ray said. “Which means he thought of you as his granddaughter, and his heir. The trust named you specifically, right?”
“Yes. Not just his grandchild, but me by name. But the fact that my dad might not have been my grandfather’s could explain why Grandfather set such harsh terms. I save the B&B and make it run, or I lose it. If I’m not his blood relation, I need to work for it.”
“Maybe.” Ray had a different idea, but he said nothing. He had no proof, only an old photo and the joy of looking into Drew’s eyes.
“A bit depressing finding all this out,” Drew said. “I wish my grandmother could have told me all this, or at least told my dad. I don’t think he knew. He was only about two years old when he and my grandmother left Riverbend.”
“She didn’t want to hurt him,” Ray suggested. “Or she wanted to forget about it and live her life.”
Drew kissed Ray’s chin. “I’m sorry. I imagine this makes you think of you and Christina.”
“Sort of,” Ray said, uncomfortable. “Not really the same thing, though.”
“At least she told you.”
“Yeah, she did,” Ray said. “I’ve always admired her for being honest. But trust me when I say I’m real glad Christina is with Grant.”
“They seem happy. And Emma is sure cute.”
“Yeah, that.” Ray brushed Drew’s face, turning her to look at him. “And it left me free when I met you.”
A flush stole across Drew’s cheeks, one Ray hoped meant pleasure. He leaned to her and kissed her slowly, putting an end to the conversation in the best way he knew how.
Ray: Riding Hard Page 13
