Blame It on the Cowboy (6 page)

“You want to know any other details?” Della asked.

Thankfully, Logan didn't have to make a decision about that because his phone buzzed, and he saw the new text from the PI. The subject was Reese Stephens aka Reese Stephenson.

So, that explained why the PI had found so little on her during his initial search. Stephenson was her real name. But clearly the PI had learned something else.

“I need to read this,” Logan said to Della, and he went out onto the back porch.

Reese's age hadn't changed from the original report. Ditto for her going to culinary school and moving around. But there was a whole lot more to the woman he'd bedded in that hotel.

Logan read through the text, and once he got his jaw unclenched, he actually managed to say something.

“Shit.”

CHAPTER FIVE

R
EESE
HADN
'
T
COUNTED
on being able to make this trip to the McCord Ranch so soon after seeing the twins, but she was thankful that their housekeeper Della had called and asked her to come over and discuss the party plans. It was the perfect excuse for Reese to get the information she needed about Logan and Lucky.

Well, hopefully it was.

Considering that everyone in town was talking about Logan's fast exit from the café, it was possible that Della was going to try to pump Reese for info while Reese was pumping the woman. Either way, if this didn't work, Reese was just going to have to come clean and admit that she did something so sleazy as have sex with a man she didn't know. Then she could get back the watch and put this whole mess behind her.

Even if Reese's body wasn't letting her forget it.

Her body didn't have a say in this, though. She'd learned the hard way that lust often drove really bad decisions, and it was obvious that sleeping with either of the McCord twins was a bad decision she couldn't repeat.

Reese followed the crude map that Sissy Lee had made for her. It wasn't that long of a walk, less than a half mile, and the house was so big that she could see it long before she got to it. Judging from the sheer size of it and the land surrounding it, the McCords were rich. Of course, she'd already guessed that, but this was rich-rich, and that meant either Lucky or Logan might be especially concerned about having spent the night with someone like her. If so, that could work in her favor because they could be eager to get rid of her.

Part of her wished that wasn't the case, though.

If this had been just another ordinary town, Reese might have considered staying on longer than three months. The pay was decent, and Bert was a good boss. Shortly after he'd hired her, he'd even helped her find a place to live, temporarily. No way could Reese have managed to swing a stay at the Bluebonnet Inn on a daily basis, but Bert had talked the owner of the inn into renting her the converted attic apartment there. It wasn't much, but then she'd never needed much, and this morning she'd learned it had a special view.

Of the McCord Cattle Brokers' building.

She'd yet to see Logan or Lucky come and go, but from everything she'd heard, Logan only left for business trips, and Lucky was only there when he couldn't avoid it. Or when he was checking on his twin. The buzz was that Lucky was still worried about Logan. Everyone in town was.

Logan was Spring Hill's rock star.

And no one she'd encountered so far was taking his ex's side in the breakup. The general consensus was that Helene should be burned at the stake for breaking poor Logan's heart.

Reese walked up the circular drive, and as she neared the house, she caught the scent of poop. She hoped that wasn't some kind of bad omen.

She made her way up the porch, but the door opened before she could even ring the bell. The outside of the house was so, well, pastoral looking, but that didn't apply to the inside. The tall brunette woman in the doorway looked frazzled. With good reason. There were cats—lots of them—darting around.

Two small children, as well.

There were shouts of laughter. Plain out shouting, too, from a teenage girl on the stairs who apparently wasn't happy about her sister using her makeup on one of the cats. Reese quickly spotted which cat. It was all white except for pink blush on its cheeks.

“I'm Reese—”

“Yes, I know. Della's expecting you. No school today,” the woman said as if that explained everything. “I'm Cassie Weatherall. Please come in.”

Cassie as in Lucky's soon-to-be fiancée. Reese recognized her from some TV talk shows, the sort where the host and his or her guests attempted to solve some huge problem in the span of an hour. Minus the commercials, of course. There were usually shouts and paternity test results involved.

Cassie looked around outside before she shut the door. “Where's your car?”

“I don't have one. I walked.”

She shook her head. “If you need to come out here again, just call the house, and someone can come and get you. Mia, don't touch Mackenzie's makeup again,” Cassie warned the younger girl without even pausing to take a breath.

“Sorry,” the little girl said as she flew past them. A little boy was chasing her with what appeared to be a magic wand and a chocolate-chip cookie.

The meager apology was apparently enough to get the teenager to whirl around and disappear into the hall off the top of the stairs.

“This way,” Cassie said after she shouted for the children to settle down.

Cassie might look like the prim and proper therapist, but her shout was all mom. According to the gossip Reese had heard at the diner, Cassie had fallen right into that role. Had fallen into the role of being a McCord, too. Cassie had given up her job as a celebrity therapist and had opened an office in Spring Hill. Considering the divorce rate was almost nil, the crime rate as well, it was possible she wouldn't get a lot of business. Then again, there could be a lot of skeletons jangling in closets.

Reese didn't mean to dodge Cassie's gaze, but she couldn't quite look the woman in the eye. She had no idea if Lucky had actually cheated on Cassie, but if so, it was a little stomach-turning to think that Reese could have been the other woman.

Cassie led Reese to the back of the sprawling house to an equally sprawling kitchen where a woman with pinned-up gray hair was at the stove.

“You're here,” Della said, smiling.

But she wasn't alone in the kitchen, and the person at the table definitely wasn't smiling. Even though Reese couldn't be certain, she thought this might be Logan.

“You're late,” the man said.

Yes, Logan.

The brusque tone caused Reese to freeze. Not Della, though. The woman popped him on the shoulder with a wooden spoon. “What kind of welcome is that?” Della scolded him.

Reese suspected Della was one of the few people on the planet who could get away with that question. Or the spoon pop.

Cassie shot Logan a glare. “Reese had to walk here,” Cassie informed him.

Logan didn't look exactly pleased with that explanation or the spoon popping. Or with Reese.

“Logan's mad because I said I wasn't going to ask you for references,” Della explained.

Oh.

Well, that told her loads. He was suspicious of her. Unless Logan was this careful about everyone who crossed paths with his family.

“We need to talk,” Logan told her, and he took hold of Reese's arm.

“She's here to go over the party,” Della protested, but she might as well have been talking to the air because Logan didn't listen. And he was out of spoon range now.

Reese didn't put up any resistance whatsoever. She'd come here hoping to have a private word with either Logan or Lucky, and she was apparently going to get it. Though it still didn't mean he was the one she'd slept with. This little chat could be a warning for her to stay away from his brother. Or away from his family's kitchen if he was truly concerned about her references.

Logan led her to the side of the house to a sunroom that overlooked one of the white-fenced pastures. Reese hadn't smelled the poop in the main part of the house, but she certainly did back here.

“Yeah, we're working on that,” he grumbled.

Until he said that, Reese hadn't even been aware she was making a face. That's because she was focused on the face Logan was making at her. Sissy Lee had said Lucky had a panty-dropping smile, but Logan must have missed out on that particular genetic trait. His abilities seemed more geared toward intimidation tactics.

“What kind of game are you playing, huh?” Logan demanded.

Since that could cover a lot of territory, Reese went with a question of her own. “What kind of game do you think I'm playing?”

Man, he was the rock star of glares, too. “What happens in San Antonio stays in San Antonio?” he tossed at her.

Bingo. So, he was the one. Part of her was relieved that he was the hot cowboy and not Lucky. At least this way Cassie wouldn't be hurt.

“How did you find me?” he snapped.

“Your truck.”

He nodded as if no further explanation was necessary. Reese braced herself for the questions that would almost certainly follow.

Or not.

Logan inched toward her, and it didn't appear he had question-asking on his mind. He moved close enough that Reese caught his scent. Very familiar. And as it done that night in the hotel bar, his scent slid right through her. Pretty amazing considering it wasn't any particular scent and managed to completely erase the bull-poop odor.

For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. He moved in as if he might just do that despite the steely look in his eyes. And for a moment it might have seemed to him as if he were going to kiss her, too. His gaze dropped to her mouth before he snapped it away and met her eye to eye.

“I ran a background check on you,” he threw out there.

Of course he had. Reese wondered why she hadn't considered it sooner. Oh, mercy. Not this, not now. Had Logan learned what had happened? She hoped not. She hated the thought of anyone knowing how stupid she'd been.

“Are you here to run some kind of con?” Logan added, and his glare didn't ease up one bit.

So, he'd found out about that part of her past. He didn't know about Spenser. Because if Logan knew that, he would have brought it up first.

“I'm not here to con you.” Reese was certain he wouldn't believe her, though. And he didn't.

Logan opened his mouth, no doubt to demand that she leave and never come back, but before he could say a word, someone yelled out, “No!” and it was followed by a loud cry.

Logan scrambled around her, running toward the sound of that cry, and when Reese caught up with him, she saw the little girl, Mia, on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. She was sobbing and holding her arm.

“Mia was chasing the cat on the stairs and fell,” Cassie explained.

Cassie wasn't sobbing exactly, but she was crying. And looking very much like a concerned mom. So was the teenager who was coming down the steps to her sister's aid. And the little boy she'd seen playing with Mia earlier. He also had tears in his eyes. Heck, so did Reese, she realized.

“I think it's broked,” Mia said through the sobs.

Logan was the only one not in the crying/panic mode. He eased Mia into his arms and started toward the door. “Cassie and I'll take her to the ER. Someone call Lucky and have him meet us there.”

“Do you need me to go with you?” Reese asked him.

“No, stay here and finish your
chat
with Della.”

Della took out her phone, and Cassie hurried to open the door. Logan followed Cassie out but not before looking back at Reese.

“This isn't over,” Logan warned her.

* * *

R
EESE
DREAMED
ABOUT
L
OGAN
. And tonight it was just as good as the real thing had been.

The kiss in the hotel bar especially.

Until that kiss Reese hadn't been sure she could even go through with the last item on her bucket list, but that kiss had pretty much put to bed any doubts she'd had. And it had just been the start.

Logan had initiated the second kiss, in the elevator as they'd headed up to the room. In fact, the kiss had gotten so scalding hot that his hand had ended up under her top, his leg between hers, and there was a whole lot of pressure from his body pressing hers against the elevator door.

That'd been incredible until the door opened, and they'd tumbled out into the hall and landed on their butts.

The clumsiness hadn't stopped there. Nope. They had been so busy kissing and grappling at each other that they'd banged into the wall outside her room, once with such precision that they'd nearly had accidental sex in the hall.

Even now in the dream, Reese could still feel that hunger. Hunger she hadn't even known was there. And there were sounds that had never been in the dream before, either. Knocking sounds. It was almost as if Logan and she were having sex against the wall, after all.

Or not.

Because the dream changed. Not to sex with Logan but to another part of her life. One she didn't want to remember. But she did.

Spenser.

It was hard to hide from memories in a dream because they chased you down, chewed you up, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

But the sound stopped it. And the sound wasn't part of the dream this time. Definitely not Logan. That became clear when she heard someone call out her name. Her real name. Logan had only called her Julia that night. And whoever was calling out her name now was also knocking on her door.

Jimena.

For a moment, Reese thought her friend might be part of the dream, as well. She staggered out of bed and went to the door, checking the time along the way. It was close to midnight.

And it was Jimena, all right.

“Food pimp,” Jimena said, holding up several large grocery bags. She came in, looked around. Not that she had to look far to take it all in. It was only about two hundred feet of space for the kitchen, bed, sitting area and bathroom.

“Uh, what are you doing here?” Reese asked.

Not that she wasn't happy to see her, but when Jimena had dropped Reese off in Spring Hill four days ago, Jimena had said she was heading back to Houston to see some old friends. When they'd spoken on the phone earlier that morning, Jimena hadn't mentioned anything about a visit.

“I'm here to help you.” Jimena handed her the bags of groceries, which Reese was certain contained nothing but junk food. She closed the door, took Reese by the hand and led her to the window.

“See that guy?” Jimena asked.