Lone Star Legacy (8 page)

The answer was no, but she was right. That barbecue was a lot safer than slow dancing his way into trouble. What had he been thinking, when he asked Beth out? It hadn’t really been about the other women who’d been pursuing him with their daughters and nieces, because he could handle that. And he hadn’t just been thinking about delving deeper into Beth’s past, either, on the pretext of keeping Walt’s finances safe.

Nope—he’d been thinking about her smile. How much fun it was to talk to her, and tease her a little. And it was about how he was coming to admire her strength and resolve while she dealt with the loss of her husband, the raising of her little girl alone and the monumental project she was undertaking at Crystal’s Café.

And maybe he’d been thinking about a whole lot more. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d spent a night with a woman, and Beth was stirring up all sorts of thoughts in that direction.

But it was a direction he wouldn’t be going. Certainly not toward anything serious, and anything less would be unfair to her. She was the kind of woman who inspired thoughts of settling down, and he would never risk that kind of commitment again.

With a deep sigh, Joel glanced at the dancers one last time, then followed her through the crowd.

S
OPHIE WRAPPED HER ARMS
around Beth’s neck for her good-night kiss. “Can I go to Olivia’s house again someday?”

“I’m sure you can, sweetheart. And as soon as we’ve got things in better shape here, we’ll invite her over. Okay?”

Sophie nodded, rubbing her eyes. After her prayers, Beth gave her another kiss and tucked her in, then turned on her night-light and quietly slipped out of her room.

Silvery moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting the living room in deep shadows. She curled up in the window seat with an afghan and rested her head against the window frame.

Coyotes howled in the distance, and from one of the tall live oaks in the yard, an owl hooted. Lonely sounds that echoed the wistful feelings in her heart.

What
had she been thinking? Sure, she’d declined Joel’s invitation initially, but then she’d given in, figuring they were both adults. Figuring that she could keep this evening on a superficial, friendly basis. The two of them, just pals. Buddies. And after the vandalism at this place, she’d hardly been in a festive mood.

But then he’d eased her out in the crowd during that wonderfully romantic Bill Medley song from
Dirty Dancing,
and she’d melted into his arms.

He’d made her feel as if she were the most desirable woman on the planet, his attention totally riveted on her, and his large, warm hand at the small of her back, as if he wanted to absorb her into himself.

Never had she felt such intense male focus. Such need to take it to the next level. If dear old Walt hadn’t jarred her back to reality, she just might’ve done something truly embarrassing, because she’d completely zoned out the others dancing in the street.

It was as if she and Joel were the only ones there.

How on earth had he done that? And with her—prim, proper Beth Lindstrom, who was hardly the stuff of any man’s fantasies.

Yet during that incredible moment at the street dance, Joel’s kiss had promised passion and wild abandon and more. She’d never felt so cherished, so safe and protected.

But he’d put on the brakes when his uncle showed up, and she had, too. Then they’d delved into a wonderful barbecue with Walt and Loraine, listening to the music until the band finally packed up for the night.

Walt’s clients spanned two counties, and they all seemed to be there tonight. Many of them wandered by for a brief conversation.

They’d politely talked to her and Joel, too…mentioning future construction projects and asking for his business card. Expressing interest in the café, and asking how she was progressing with the building, or offering condolences about the graffiti incident.

They were warm, friendly folks. Small-town folks with connections to each other that ran deep, and generations of shared experiences that made them truly belong to this town, and to each other, with a sense of belonging that she’d never felt in the city.

With each passing day she fell deeper into the quiet, laid-back rhythm of this town. What would it be like to stay here forever, to become a part of that fabric? It called to her in an elemental way. Maybe…if all went well with the café, she and Sophie could stay here for good.

B
ETH DUSTED OFF HER HANDS
, walked backward to the curb and studied the house with a critical eye.

During the three weeks since the street dance, she’d thrown herself into renovating the place, imagining the day when she could reopen the café and start building a future for Sophie and herself in this town. Keeping busy had also helped distract her from her anonymous caller’s threat about “ten days or less,” though that deadline had come and gone without another word.

The exterior now sported pale yellow paint with crisp white trim around the windows and doors. The front door itself was a cheerful, bright blue, with
Crystal’s
painted in bold diagonal script.

She’d planned on doing the painting later, but covering the dark graffiti had entailed so many coats of paint that she’d finally given up trying to match new and faded yellows, and did the whole thing.

She’d also added deep-blue window boxes filled with crimson geraniums, and white, half-barrel planters of geraniums at either side of the steps leading up to the front covered porch.

Though she would have preferred lace, she’d saved that for the family quarters upstairs and had hung oyster-white vertical blinds at all of the main floor windows, opting for an effect that wouldn’t make the local cowboys cringe.

Frowning, she turned to Gina. “Does it work? The colors, I mean.”

Standing next to her, Gina grinned and gave her a quick hug. “Perfect. And it isn’t too froufrou for the ranchers, either. So…can I have the inside tour?”

Beth hadn’t let anyone but Joel and Sophie into the café for the past several weeks. Now, she led her friend up the stairs, opened the front door and ushered her inside.

“Oooh,” Gina breathed. She took a few more steps, then slowly turned, her eyes wide. “I love the blue gingham wallpaper. And the white wainscoting—perfect!”

“It’s three-inch vertical pine, and just what I wanted. Joel found it in a house that was being torn down out in the country.” She nodded toward a smaller, more private dining area in the back. “He found those French doors out there, too.”

Gina ran a hand over one of the tabletops set with gingham place mats. “Who refinished all of these tables?”

“Mostly me, then Joel had to pitch in. Sanding the tables and chairs was far more work than I thought. He did the oak flooring, too.” Beth flexed her aching hands. “I just wish Crystal could see what we’ve done here. She was always so proud of her café.”

Beth led Gina back to the kitchen, which now sported large fluorescent lights, gleaming fixtures and clean white walls. “The state inspectors came yesterday, so starting Monday, we’ll be in business. I’ll still be able to work at the clinic for a few hours in the late afternoons, though. The steady money will come in handy.”

“Sounds like you and Joel make a great team.” Gina gave Beth a sidelong glance. “Any news in that department?”

Beth rolled her eyes. “Of course not. He’s been doing a wonderful job for me and has charged half what he should have. I’m grateful, but that’s as far as anything goes.”

She’d had to remind herself of that every day.

Going to the town’s celebration had seemed like a reasonable favor to grant. She and Joel had reached an easy sort of working relationship by then, and it had sounded like a pleasant night out—the first she’d had since Patrick’s death.

She hadn’t foreseen the incredible impact of those slow dances in his arms. The heat of his kiss.

Or the fact that they’d end up in such an awkward situation afterward—that cautious, carefully superficial mode between two people who’d gone a little too far and instantly regretted it.

Now she was careful to avoid inadvertent contact, and tried for only the most innocuous conversations, for fear that he’d misconstrue her actions as those of a love-hungry widow.

He seemed even more cautious than she did—and was probably terrified that she was going to pursue him like the other women in town did.

“…so, I think you two should fall head over heels in love, get married and stay right here in Lone Wolf,” Gina continued, gently elbowing Beth in the ribs. “Who will I go garage-saling with when you leave?”

Beth pulled herself back into the present. “Honestly, I’ll miss you, too, if I move away.”

She gazed at the Russell and Wyeth prints on the walls, and the collection of old chintz and calico teapots she’d brought with her from Chicago on a white hutch along the east wall. Even the extra tables and chairs had been bargain finds during the Saturdays she and Gina had gone treasure hunting.

It had been years since she’d had the freedom to spend time with friends.

Gina strolled across the room to the old-fashioned soda fountain, with its long marble counter and tall, red upholstered stools. “So what’s left, then?”

“Just a few things upstairs. Varnishing. Wallpapering. A new area rug. More insulation up in the attic to help with the summer heat and chilly winters.” Beth sighed. “And then…I guess I’ll start checking out the Realtors in the area. If the café brings in some good business, it should help me get a good price. Or, it might even make staying here a possibility.”

“I hope so. The thought of you leaving still makes me sad.” Gina grimaced as she glanced at her watch. “I’d better run, because I need to pick up Olivia at her dad’s place by noon. The less she’s around his new girlfriend, the better.”

Another reason, among many, why being single was proving to be a very satisfactory way to live.

Beth followed Gina out to the street, waved goodbye, then settled on the front porch swing to thumb through the stack of mail she’d picked up at the post office.

A fistful of credit-card applications destined for the shredder.

The local paper, which came out Saturdays and Wednesdays.

A letter from her sister, Melanie.

At the bottom of the stack, the official-looking letter that she’d had to sign for, from the county attorney’s office in Chicago.

Her hand trembled as she slid a finger under the flap.

There’d been a lot of questions after Patrick’s death. Over the timing of the accident. Problems at the construction company, where he’d worked in accounting. Still numb with shock and in pain from her injuries, she’d had no answers to give, though she’d seen the doubt and suspicion in the eyes of the investigators.

The break-in at her home a few weeks later brought them all back again, but in the end, they’d finally gone away and had left her in relative peace…though some of their wild suppositions about Patrick’s activities gnawed at her.

Even if none of it made any sense.

She finished opening the envelope and spread the letter out against her knees.

She stared at the letter. Read it twice. Then folded it back into the envelope, her stomach tying itself in knots.
So it still isn’t over.

And things weren’t much better here. According to the sheriff, his interviews with the troublesome teenagers he’d called “his usual suspects” had yielded alibis for all three on the night her yard was trashed. They’d mentioned seeing a local, unemployed man named Hubie Post lurking in the vicinity earlier that evening, though Talbot hadn’t been able to track him down for questioning.
Hubie.
Wasn’t he the guy who’d been sent to help her move in, but never showed up?

The thought gave her a chill. What about the mysterious car that occasionally crept down Canyon Street late at night—was there an innocent explanation for why it idled in that dark and deserted area? And why in the world would a vagrant like Hubie bother to vandalize her yard? It just didn’t make sense.

Yet lately, she’d begun to have the eerie sensation that she was being watched…and the two late-night phone calls last month certainly hadn’t been her imagination. Innocuous problems, compared to the threat that her caller made, though he’d given her that warning a month ago and hadn’t ever turned up. Since then it had been hard to sleep at night.

She rose, dusted off her jeans and glanced over at the vet clinic parking lot.

It was time to pay Walt another visit.

“I
WANT TO THANK YOU
again for Darwin,” Beth began, setting a coconut cream cake on the counter in the vet clinic. “He is one fabulous cat.”

Walt lifted an eyebrow. “You’re bringing him back?”

“Only if you need him. Sophie loves him and he terrifies the mice, so it’s a perfect relationship in every way.”

“Then he’s yours.” Walt chuckled. “I was hoping you’d want him.”

“Now I need a dog. Something noisy. Fierce. Something that will frighten away strangers but be dependable with Sophie…and not eat my café customers if they happen to intersect.”

Walt’s brow furrowed. “You think those vandals will come back?”

“I hope not. But the sheriff recommended a dog a while back, and I believe he’s right. There’s not another house for almost two blocks, and when the clinic is closed this is a pretty lonely area.”

“You
like
dogs? They need a lot of love and attention.”

“My husband never let me have one, but I grew up with goldens. Now that Joel has finished the fence around my property, it’s time to start looking.” She smiled, hoping her anxiety didn’t show. If Walt picked up on it, he would talk to Joel, and then she’d face the third degree from both of them. “He fixed it so the front and back yards are completely fenced, but can be closed off from each other. Sophie could use a buddy,” she added.

“Well…the goldens I know would probably lick an intruder to death, but they’d be great with Sophie.” He pondered for a minute, then smiled. “I do know of something that just might work. Loraine’s uncle Kenny recently moved into a care center, and has to give up his dog. It isn’t really a ranch sort of dog, so it isn’t working out too well for Loraine to keep her.”

Beth envisioned a doddering, gray-muzzled dog that would provide protection only if an intruder happened to trip over it on the way into the house. “Is it…lively?”

“Enough.”

“Is it
old?
”

“Middle-aged.”

“Big?”

“Not very.”

“Housebroken?”

“I’m sure she is.” He smiled. “I’ll bring Viper over tonight and let you take a look.”

She felt herself pale. “V-Viper?”

Walt chuckled. “You just need to meet her, and see what you think.”

S
HE CAME OVER TODAY
asking for a watchdog,
Walt had said.
Maybe you should see if she’s in some kind of trouble over there.

Walt was still blatantly attempting to bring Joel and Beth together as a couple, so asking Joel to check in on her could be just another ploy. Yet, Walt did worry about everyone who came under his wing, and it certainly seemed plausible that Beth could be in trouble. From her first day in town, Joel had sensed an undercurrent of wariness in her manner that had piqued his curiosity.

Her husband’s death…her anonymous caller…the vandalism at her place—did it all add up to more than she’d been willing to reveal? Had she been in some sort of serious trouble before moving here? All things considered, Joel would bet his badge—if he still had one—that there was something in her past that she wanted hidden.

It was definitely time to call in an old favor.

He flipped open his cell phone, and punched in the number of an investigator he knew in Detroit. The phone rang six times before rolling into voice mail. “Hey, Steve. I’ve got a favor to ask. I need a background check on a woman from Chicago…and her late husband.”

J
OEL CHECKED HIS
voice and e-mail messages every twenty minutes, impatient for an answer. Maybe his hunch was wrong. But if it wasn’t, Beth and her daughter might well be in danger living alone in that drafty old house. His blood chilled at the thought of them staying there, defenseless and at the mercy of the slow response times of the overtaxed sheriff’s department, with so few officers trying to cover the entire county.

He paced the length of his house another time, then went back to his office and glared at the computer monitor. Maybe Steve was out on a case. Maybe he was on a vacation, or had left early for the day and wouldn’t even be listening to his messages. Maybe—

The computer chimed, and the mailbox flag started waving at the bottom of his monitor screen. He quickly clicked into Yahoo and found the newest incoming mail.
Bingo.

The message from Steve was terse. He’d also attached copies of several archived articles from the
Chicago Tribune.

The pencil in Joel’s hand snapped as he read them. He hit Print, then impatiently waited for the paper to shoot out of the laser printer.

In less than two minutes he was heading for town, Steve’s words still hitting him with the staccato impact of semiautomatic gunfire.

Maybe he and Beth had only known each other for a couple months, but she was a woman alone, and he’d thought they were friends by now. Why hadn’t she trusted him enough to tell him the truth?

He thought about sweet little Sophie, defenseless and trusting. And Beth, who’d have no chance against a thug who might easily be twice her size.

He was going to pay Beth a visit, and he was going to lay things on the line, to just see what she had to say. But all the way to town, he prayed Steve’s message was wrong.

W
ALT SET
the pet carrier down on Beth’s porch and beamed at her. “I think,” he said with a broad smile, “that Viper here is the answer to your dilemma.”

Beth eyed the carrier, unable to conceal her doubt. “It…must be so
small.
”

“Can I see, Momma? Please?” Sophie struggled in Beth’s arms, wanting to get down.