Blame It on the Cowboy (20 page)

“And a good exterminator,” Claire added. She was still shuddering.

“Yeah, it sounds great,” Jimena piped in. “You could call the bakery Reese's Lemon Thingies.”

“No, it doesn't sound great.” Reese hadn't meant to say that so loud—it was practically a shout—but she was still stunned that Cassie was making plans. Long-term plans. Plans that included her.

“I'm not the ‘opening a bakery' kind of woman,” Reese explained when they all just stared at her.

“So, you want to keep working for other people?” Jimena asked. But she didn't just ask it. She was on board with this, too, though Reese wasn't sure how.

“You know I move at least every six months,” Reese reminded her.

The three women made varying sounds that they did know that. And that they disapproved. Worse, they looked at her with those looks of disapproval.

It was Claire who broke the silence. “You've been seeing Logan.” Then she held up a finger. “Excuse me a sec.” And she hurried to the bathroom. A few moments later, Reese heard a different kind of sound—retching.

“Anyway,” Cassie said, picking up where Claire had left off. “If you want to have a fighting chance with Logan, then at least consider my offer. You wouldn't have to put up any cash until you actually opened Lemon Thingies.”

“Or you could call it Queen of Tarts,” Jimena suggested. She snapped her fingers. “Or how about Dough Play?”

“Or Wants and Kneads?” Cassie added. “Or Sweetie Pies?”

“For Goodness' Cakes would work,” Claire put in as she came out of the bathroom. “Or Sugar Mama's.”

Jimena did more finger snapping. “Or instead of Lemon Thingies, it could be Reese's Thingies.”

For Pete's sake, that sounded as if she had testicles.

“Or Reese's Sweet Spot and Thingies,” Cassie went on.

That sounded as if she were horny and testicular.

Reese groaned. Not only were they planning her future, they were planning it with really stupid names.

“I don't fit in here,” Reese yelled. “And I don't fit into Logan's life. For Christ's sake, I have tattoos.”

“Are they spelled correctly?” Cassie asked, and she appeared to be serious. “Because my grandmother had misspelled tattoos, and it drove Lucky nuts.”

Reese tried not to groan again. Failed. “They aren't words but a rose and rosebud.”

“Sounds tasteful,” Claire remarked. “I remember my mother had tats that weren't tasteful at all. Snakes and a spider.” Another shudder.

Of course, Reese had heard bits and pieces of Claire's and Cassie's not-so-perfect upbringings, but at least they'd had some semblance of a normal childhood.

“I was raised by con artists. We would have had to come up in status to be called trailer trash.” Reese shook her head. “I'd never fit in here.”

Cassie and Jimena opened their mouths, no doubt to argue that, but both their mouths stayed open. And Reese soon saw why when she followed their gazes and saw what had captured their attention.

It was Logan.

He was across the street in front of the post office where earlier she'd seen Helene and Elrond. Elrond wasn't there.

But Helene was.

Reese watched as the woman put her hand on Logan's chest, leaned in and whispered something to him. He didn't back away. In fact, Logan leaned in and whispered something right back to her.

Before both Logan and Helene exchanged a very intimate-looking smile.

* * *

L
OGAN
SCOWLED
.

First at the stuff the guy had just put on his desk. Then at the guy himself. Logan couldn't remember his name, but the person he was scowling at was someone Lucky had hired to do maintenance on the company trucks and other vehicles.

The stuff the man had put on Logan's desk was Reese's backpack and panties. Red panties that had been visibly ripped.

“Found these when I was cleaning out your truck,” the guy said, and he made the mistake of smiling.

Logan's scowled deepened. “Shut the door on your way out,” he snarled.

That didn't lessen the guy's smile, and he added a knowing wink. A wink that Logan couldn't deny because he had indeed done some winkable stuff with Reese that had resulted in those torn panties, but there was no reason for someone he barely knew to point that out.

He pressed the intercom button to call Jimena, who should be in reception. Whether she was there was anyone's guess and whether she was working was another guess entirely. Since it was her first day, Logan didn't even know if she was at her desk.

And she wasn't.

That's because at that exact moment Jimena came in the door carrying a cup of coffee, something he was about to request she bring him. She also looked reasonably dressed for the job.

Of course, he was grading on a curve here since Greg had often been unreasonably dressed.

Jimena was wearing a tiger print dress that fit her like a sausage casing and purple glitter shoes. And she smelled like Cheetos. Since there were some yellow stains on her fingers, Logan doubted the finger stains were a coincidence.

Logan figured the sausage-casing clothes would impress Delbert Clark, his ten o'clock appointment. Delbert had an eye for good Angus cows and questionably dressed women. Since Logan had been doing business with the man for nearly a decade, he didn't exactly need to impress Delbert, but it was always good to start with a happy client.

“Your coffee,” Jimena said, putting the cup on his desk. “Beans are ground fresh. Two sugars, a teaspoon of half-and-half just the way you like it. Greg left notes about things,” she explained. “Building temperature, how you like your coffee, litter box cleaning, your somewhat persnickety personality. Had to look up
persnickety
, but I gotta say, I agree with him.”

“I have to say I don't care for being called persnickety.” Or having his coffee mentioned along with kitty litter maintenance.

“Greg said in his notes that you'd say that if I brought it up.” She slid some papers his way. “That's the contract for those ugly bulls with the humps. The ones that the fella sent pictures of this morning.”

“The Brahmas,” he supplied. So, evidently Jimena could print out a contract and make coffee even if she didn't know squat about livestock and referred to him with insulting labels.

She scowled, too, when she saw the panties and backpack, and Logan quickly shoved them under his desk.

“You didn't give those back to Reese yet?” She sounded more like his sister than his employee.

“I haven't seen her since Friday night when I got her out of jail.” And yes, it was Monday, three days later. But he'd had meetings most of the day on Saturday, had gotten a migraine and had spent a good chunk of Sunday in bed.

“You haven't spoken to her?” Another snap.

“Only for a couple of seconds. I called her, told her I wasn't feeling well and that I'd go by the café today for lunch.”

She huffed. “Turd on a tire iron,” Jimena grumbled. “I had a date yesterday and didn't check on her because I thought she'd be with you.”

“Uh, why would you need to check on her?”

“Because of what she saw, you idiot.”

Logan scowled again. There was no reason for her to call him an idiot. Was there? “What did she see?”

Jimena's hands went on her hips, and either the sausage casing was causing her eyes to bulge, or else she was truly pissed off. “You and Helene carrying on in front of the post office.”

He had to shake his head, and Logan was certain he looked as confused as he felt.

Jimena made a “duh” sound. “Cassie, Claire, Reese and me were all there Saturday, looking at that building Cassie wanted to buy. Did you know it used to have a bakery in it?” But she waved off that question and continued. “Anyway, we saw you getting cozy with Helene.”

“Cozy?” Logan wanted to throw up his hands. “What are you talking about?”

“Post office. Saturday. You. Helene. Whispers. Smiles. In-your-face contact.” She spoke slowly as if he were mentally deficient.

Heck, maybe he was because Logan didn't remember…wait…yes, he did. “That wasn't cozy. Helene was just thanking me for getting her out of a sticky situation.” The one with Chucky that could have ended up costing her a fortune. “And I thanked her for getting Chucky to testify against Reese's mother.”

For all the good that'd done. The police chief had yet to find Vickie, which would only be a good thing if the woman stayed away from Spring Hill and especially from Reese. Logan figured a swarm of bees would have an easier time staying away from something sweet than Vickie did of staying away from Reese.

“You smiled at Helene,” Jimena said like an accusation.

Yes, he had. He remembered that now. Logan also remembered why he'd done it. “Because people were watching, and I didn't want to seem petty.”

“Well, Reese thought it was more than that. You should have seen the look on her face. I thought she was going to throw up.” She lifted her shoulder. “But that could have been because Claire just threw up, and that was making us all a little queasy. Plus, Reese was spooked because of all those spiders in the oven.”

Logan hadn't known any of this was going on. And some of it, he just didn't understand. But one thing was clear; he needed to talk to Reese if she believed he was getting
cozy
with his ex.

He thought about calling her, only to realize she was working and wouldn't be able to answer. However, she should be finished with the breakfast shift in thirty minutes or so, and he could see her then in person.

“When Delbert Clark gets here, show him in right away,” Logan instructed.

Jimena didn't acknowledge that. Didn't move. “Uh, about that,” she finally said.

The
uh
couldn't be good, and the gloom-and-doom look on her face supported that notion. “What's wrong?”

She took several deep breaths, which no doubt tested the stretch of the dress fabric. “Delbert Clark called about fifteen minutes ago and canceled the meeting.”

“Why didn't you put his call through to me?”

More deep breaths. “Because he said he didn't want to talk to you. He said he didn't want to do business with a man who was boinking a convicted felon.”

Hell. Logan just had to sit there a couple of seconds and take that in. Vickie had obviously gotten to Delbert, but what surprised Logan was that the man had put gossip over business.

Of course, maybe it wasn't just gossip.

Maybe Vickie had shown Delbert some kind of proof to back up her claims. Then again, Vickie was a con artist so perhaps she was able to use those conning skills to convince the man.

“I told him no one uses that word—
boinking
—anymore,” Jimena added. “And then I called him a jackass. Trust me, I could have come up with something much worse to call him, but I kept it PG-rated for your sake.”

“Thanks,” Logan grumbled, and he wasn't the least bit sincere. He didn't want his receptionist calling an old business associate any names since this was something Logan was sure he could smooth over.

He scrolled through his numbers and pressed Delbert's, and the man answered on the first ring. “I told your girl that I didn't want to talk to you,” he said before Logan could even get out a greeting.

Several different emotions hit Logan. First the shock, then the hurt. Followed by the anger. “She told me that, but I didn't believe her. I just figured after all the business we've done together that you owed me a personal explanation.”

“Well, I don't,” Delbert snapped. “I don't care where you dip your wick as long as it doesn't come back on me.”

Logan had to get his jaw unclenched to speak. “How would that come back on you? And please don't use any other reference about wick-dipping.”

“Huh?” He sounded surprised that an outdated comment like that would offend Logan. “All right. Then what should I call her—your convicted felon of a lover?”

“You could just call her Reese since that's her name.”

Delbert mumbled something that Logan was glad he didn't catch. “I don't plan on calling her anything because there'll be no more business between us unless you dump her. The woman…
Reese
…is a con artist, and I don't want to risk her getting hold of my bank account number and shit like that.”

“Her mother's a con artist, not Reese,” Logan corrected, “and her mother is no doubt the one who told you these lies.”

“Lies aren't lies if there's proof to back them up,” Delbert snapped.

Logan tried again to explain, but he was talking to the air because Delbert had already ended the call.

“Now can I come up with something worse than jackass to call him?” Jimena asked.

Even though Jimena only heard Logan's end of the conversation, she'd no doubt figured out the direction it had taken. Logan would have said, “Sure, why not?” but he saw Reese standing in the doorway.

Crazy Cat was at her feet, coiling around her ankles.

Logan wasn't sure how much she'd heard, but she had an even more troubled look on her face than Logan was sure he did. He immediately changed his expression because Reese would feel bad enough about this without his rubbing salt in the wound.

“I called her and told her about Delbert,” Jimena volunteered, scooping up the cat. “Reese asked me to spy and find out if your business was getting hurt because of her.”

Hardly an admission an employee should make, but in a way Logan was glad Reese was here. He could try to make her see this really wasn't her fault and explain that cozy smile that had apparently made her look as if she wanted to throw up.

Jimena sniffed her. “You smell like bacon.”

Reese gave herself a whiff, too. “I didn't have time to shower after breakfast shift.”