Takin' The Reins (5 page)

“All right, all right, I’m coming.” She had no idea who’d be calling this number, especially at this time of night. Quietly, she said, “Hello?” When no one responded, she said hello again. “Who’s there?” The sound of raspy, heavy breathing was enough to make her snap. “I hear you breathing, jerk. Who is this?”

The phone clicked and went dead. She slammed the receiver down and peered at Tag.

“Someone’s playing games with me.” Her heart was pounding again, and her nerves rippled under her skin. Just then she heard it—a vehicle! It was tearing up her driveway, racing toward the house. Flying dirt and rocks zinged off tires and metal. Headlight beams bounced crazily through her front window. Suddenly the vehicle skidded to a stop. A car door opened and banged shut, and footsteps pounded to the front door. Jordan’s heart all but stopped. Her feet were frozen to the floor. Tag’s ears perked, and he started to bark. Drawing herself out of shock, Jordan ran to the kitchen counter and grabbed the carving knife again.

There was a loud rap on the door and then a deep voice called out, “Jordan! It’s me, Wyatt Brannigan. Your neighbor. Open up!”

Her shoulders sagged, and she sighed in relief. Tag jumped on the door and barked. Jordan stepped to the window and peeked out to be certain it was Wyatt. Unlocking the door quickly, she flung it open. Thankful to see his friendly face, she fought the urge to throw her arms around his neck. Standing in the brush of moonlight, she considered him her knight in shining armor at that moment.

All of a sudden, her imagination went wild. Hold on a minute. What if it had been him outside just now? What if he’d been the one on her property and scaring her by flashing a flashlight in her window and making that racket? Maybe he was pulling a trick on her now—trying to get into the house and…

“Are you all right?” he asked, pulling her from her paranoid thoughts. What seemed like genuine concern lined his rugged features. Tag pawed at his leg and whined. Wyatt looked down and chuckled. “What are you doing over here, boy? I wondered where you went. I’ve been calling you.”

Jordan’s eyes enlarged. “This is your dog?”

“Yep. I was outside hollering for him. It’s not like Tag not to come when I call. Is it, boy?” Smiling, he ruffled the dog’s head. To Jordan’s amazement, it seemed the dog smiled back.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “He was missing and you thought to look for him over here?”

“No, no. A truck came flying down the road from this direction. I got a bad feeling and thought I should come over and check on you.”

“Oh.” He seemed to be telling the truth. Growing up in the big city had made her suspicious. She’d have to learn to trust people more, now that she was living in a small town.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She ran a shaky hand through her hair. “I think I’m okay. But maybe not.” She didn’t want to be alone. “Do you want to come in?” she blurted.

He stared at the big knife in her hand. “I might have to think about that.”

Jordan followed his gaze to her hand. “Oh, I’m sorry. Please, come in and sit down.” She excused herself and set the knife on the counter.

After closing the door behind himself, Wyatt removed his cowboy hat and entered. He sank into the cushions of the old sofa and placed his hat on his lap. Tag coiled into a ball at his feet and started to snore. Jordan curled into the armchair. She smoothed down her tee shirt and tucked her feet under her legs.

“Do you always wear your hat?” she asked. She thought it unusual for someone to be wearing a cowboy hat in the middle of the night. The question must have struck him funny because his head tilted and he laughed.

“I’m rarely without my hat.”

“Oh.” He was grinning; a lopsided smile that was both sexy and roguish, and his green eyes twinkled with mischief. But she hadn’t invited him in to flirt. She told him about the crashing sounds outside and the beam of light that came through the window. “I saw a truck speeding away and then the phone rang and it was a crank call. I don’t think it was a coincidence.”

Wyatt nodded. “The garbage cans are scattered on the ground out by the barn.”

She leaned forward. “You said you saw a truck driving by your house. You didn’t happen to recognize it, did you?”

“I’m not positive, but I have a pretty good idea who the truck belongs to.”

“Who?”

“It looked like there was a dent in the side. I think it’s owned by a man named Joe Campbell. I’ve seen it around town.”

The breath caught in Jordan’s throat. “He was one of the men in the café this afternoon. He and another guy were watching my every move. Cole told me they work for Addison Stillwell. And I know all about Mr. Stillwell.”

Wyatt homed in on the other man she mentioned. “Cole? You mean Cole Roberts?”

“Yes. Do you know him?”

He chuckled. “Sure, I know him. Tulie’s a very small town, Jordan.”

He’d gotten familiar with her fast. He kept using her first name like they were old friends, but for some reason, she didn’t mind. She liked the way he said her name in that smooth and slow drawl.

“So, you struck up a conversation with Cole Roberts in the café?” he asked.

“Actually, he spoke to me first. I was just being polite.”

“Sure. All the pretty ladies are polite to Cole.”

Jordan squared her jaw. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothin’. I just never see Cole Roberts talking to any ugly women, that’s all.”

She had to hold in a grin. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

“I don’t mean anything by it, Jordan. Forget I said it if it bothers you.” He tossed his hand into the air. “Now, let’s get back to these men you said were watching you in the café. One was white, one was Mexican, right?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“Good guess.”

“Okay…” Her voice trailed off. She wondered if he’d walked by the window and seen her in the café. “Anyway, Cole said their names were Joe and Cinnamon something.”

“Cimarron.” Wyatt corrected her with a deep laugh. “Joe Campbell and Cimarron Cruz. They’re a couple of petty criminals. Worth less than the crap on the bottom of my boots.” He leaned forward and delved deep into her eyes. “Stillwell didn’t waste any time, and he hasn’t even introduced himself to you yet.”

There was that name again. Stillwell. “I’ve only been in town for a day,” she reminded him. The intensity of his electric green eyes stirred something deep within her—alarm bells. Wyatt Brannigan was charming, for a cowboy. But she’d been charmed before and it only led to heartbreak. She shifted her feet under her bottom and felt naked under his scrutiny.

“I think the pranks tonight were just a teaser for what’s to come,” he said. “Stillwell’s played this game before, with Lydia. It might not be long before he makes a personal house call.”

“That’s exactly what Cole said!”

“Is that so? I guess great minds think alike.” He leaned back and crossed one leg over the other knee. His gaze traveled to her tee shirt and down to her bare knees.

Jordan suddenly became very aware of the way she was dressed—or rather, not dressed. She wondered how noticeable her breasts were beneath her sleep shirt. She crossed her arms over her chest like a protective shield. Wyatt blinked and looked away, but not before his lips split into a grin. She felt her cheeks flame.

“They won’t be back tonight,” he said with confidence. Slapping his knees and twisting his neck to look into the kitchen, he abruptly changed the subject. “Got any coffee on the stove?”

Jordan’s mouth gaped. It was a little audacious— inviting himself to stay for coffee—even if she’d had any on the stove. They barely knew each other and it was late. It probably wasn’t smart of her to have invited him in this time of night anyway. But she’d been frightened, and a feeling hinted he was one of the good guys. With trouble long gone, she wasn’t afraid anymore.

“Nope,” she answered pleasantly. “This café’s closed for the night.”

“I’ll take a rain check then,” he replied with a smile. Rising from the sofa, he plopped his hat on his head and bent down to rouse the sleeping dog. “Come on, Tag. Let’s go before we wear out our welcome.” Tag opened one sleepy eye at a time and then stood up and stretched his legs. He prodded Jordan’s knee with his nose.

“Bye-bye, Tag,” she said, rubbing his head. “You can come visit me anytime you’d like.”

“Does that invitation include his master?” Wyatt asked with a hopeful look.

She smiled and considered how she was going to get out of the chair in the position she was in without showing him all that was underneath her sleep shirt. The expression on his face let her know he understood her predicament.

“I’ll show myself out, Jordan.” Tag trotted after him to the door and Wyatt tipped his hat as he filled up the threshold. “Good night. Sleep tight. I’ll check on you tomorrow to see how you’re faring.”

“All right. If you want.” She felt silly not getting up to see him out the door, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. He’d already seen too much of her. “Good night,” she called.

“Thank you for coming over to check on me.”

“Just being neighborly, ma’am. Lock your door behind me. I’ll pick up your trash cans before I leave.”

“Thanks very much.” He shut the door.

Jordan could hear his boots crunch across the broken pieces of sidewalk as he strode to his truck. When she heard the truck door squeak open, she stretched out her legs and rubbed her tingling feet, which had gone to sleep. Finally, when she was able to stand, she scurried to the door and locked it. Then she flipped off the living room light and padded back to the bedroom. The old springs creaked under her weight as she crawled into the iron bed. She fluffed up her pillow and curled on her side. Within minutes she was drifting off, secure that she had nothing more to worry about that night, especially with her gallant neighbor keeping an eye out for her. A pleasant image floated through her mind as she went to sleep: a tanned face with sparkling green eyes and a lopsided grin full of mischief.

Chapter Five

The house phone rang early the next morning. Jordan awoke with a start. Through glazed eyes, she squinted at the bedside clock. That couldn’t be the right time. Who would be calling at seven in the morning? Remembering the hang-up call from last night caused her to groan.
Not another prank call
.

The phone jangled again. She kicked the covers off and rolled over the side of the bed. With the sheet draped around her shoulders and trailing on the floor like the train of a wedding gown, she plodded to the kitchen along the cold tile floor and snatched up the receiver. Hoping to nip this in the bud once and for all, she whispered in a hoarse voice, “Haven’t you ever heard it’s not wise to cross a redhead? Call one more time and you’ll learn firsthand what happens if you do.”

The voice on the other end chuckled. “Good morning to you, too, Jordan. It’s Cole Roberts. I take it you were expecting someone else.”

Jordan rolled her eyes, feeling stupid for her mistake. “I’m sorry, Cole. How are you?”

“Bright-eyed and bushy tailed. I’m an early riser. Did I wake you?”

She pictured his dimpled cheeks and flashy smile. “You did, but it’s okay. I should be up anyway.”

“You know, sometimes I forget not everyone gets up at the crack of dawn like I do,” he said.

She yawned and rubbed her eyes and ran a hand through disheveled hair, glad he couldn’t see through the phone. “It was a pretty hectic day yesterday. It took a while for me to get to sleep last night.” She felt no need to go into detail about the pranks pulled on her.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called this early. I’ll call back later when you’re more awake.”

“No. It’s fine. I’m up now. What can I do for you?” She pulled a can of coffee from the grocery bag that still sat on the kitchen counter.

“I thought I’d come over so we can make a list of work that needs to be done to your house.”

“Today?”

“Yeah. If you’re up to it. Do you have any other plans?”

Her brain was still asleep. She tried to remember what day it was. It was a weekday; that much she knew. “Don’t you have to work today?” she asked. “I don’t expect you to drop everything for me.”

“My guys can handle one day without me.”

Opening the silverware drawer, she searched for a manual can opener since there wasn’t an electric one on the counter. “Your boss won’t mind?”

Cole laughed. “I am the boss. Roberts Construction. I own the company. Guess you didn’t read my business card closely.”

“Sorry,” she said through another yawn. “In that case, you can do what you want, can’t you? I made a short list last night. I’ve decided I
would
like to get an estimate for some remodeling.”

“Great! How is nine o’clock? Is that too early to meet?”

She mentally ran through the things she’d have two hours to accomplish—drink some coffee, bathe, have breakfast, drink more coffee, make herself presentable… Surely she could manage. “Nine is good.”

“All right. You know, Jordan, I’ve been thinking about you since we met yesterday.

That got her attention. In what way did he mean? “You have?” She measured rich, aromatic grounds into the ancient coffee pot tucked into a corner of the counter, plugged it in, and listened for it to start percolating.

“You sound surprised.”

She primped her messy hair as if he could see her. “What have you been thinking about? Have you been imagining all the money you’re going to gouge me for?” she teased.

“No. That’ll be an added bonus,” he joked back. “The truth is I couldn’t get you off my mind last night. I felt a…connection when we met. I want to get to know you better.”

Wow. A connection? That took her aback. She figured a man with his movie star looks and muscular physique would be taken already—not that she was interested in dating him. Or anyone else. Because she wasn’t. But Cole seemed nice. If he was interested in her, it could work to her advantage. Maybe he’d give her a discount on services if they became friends, she thought, only joking.