Must Love Cowboys (24 page)

She shook her head slowly. “He could be any of those and it still wouldn't explain how he could've known Calvin was in the hospital without coming here first.”

I sucked in a breath. “Yeah, well, some of us were thinking maybe Duane knew he was in the hospital because he had something to do with Calvin being there.”

Her eyes widened. “Okay… The payroll can wait.” Crossing to the corner table, she pulled out a chair and sat down. “Let's hear it.”

I gave her a quick rundown of all the suspicions any of us had raised, ending with Wyatt's change of heart on the subject of attempted murder.

“It all fits, doesn't it?” she said. “The fences being cut…the men kept busy rounding up strays… And if Calvin's sister really did leave him a fortune, that provides a motive to go along with the opportunity. What I can't figure out is how you could make a man have a heart attack. Even dumping his nitro wouldn't necessarily kill him. Calvin could've gotten the prescription refilled before he needed them again.”

“I know. Which means all of this could simply be a string of unlucky coincidences.” I shrugged. “But it
feels
wrong.”

“Yeah. If it wasn't for the fences being cut and some stranger knowing Calvin was in the hospital—let alone the one where he was actually being treated—I'd say Calvin simply picked the wrong time to run out of pills.” She got to her feet. “Guess we'll all have to be on the lookout for anything suspicious.”

“Do you think we should tell Calvin what we suspect? I mean, you know him better than I do…”

“Afraid of how he might react to the idea that someone is trying to kill him? Yeah. Might be best to hold off on that. After all, the man does have a heart condition. Don't want to go making it worse for no reason.”

“Guess we'll know more after we contact those lawyers.”

“I guess we will.”

Not wishing to waste any time, I threw three more sweet potatoes into the oven before making a beeline for the mess hall. “Ready to call those lawyers?”

“Thought you were gonna email them,” Calvin replied. “Not sure I want to talk to those bloodsuckers.”

I, for one, didn't think I could stand the suspense any longer and was within a hairbreadth of pushing for the telephone option. “I can email them if that's what you want. Don't suppose you have an email address, do you?”

He shook his head. “Don't even have a computer. Never saw the need for any of that stuff.”

“No problem. It only takes a few seconds to set one up.”

“That'll be fine,” he said. “What do you make of that guy at the hospital?” His tone was as abrupt as his change of topic.

“You mean Duane?” I practically had to bite my tongue to keep from calling the dude a murderer.

Innocent until proven guilty, Tina.

I cleared my throat. “I'm guessing he's a friend of Jeannine's. After all, he did say he was a family friend. If he's not your friend, he pretty much has to have been one of hers.”

Calvin nodded, but he didn't seem convinced. “Kinda weird, though, isn't it? Him knowing I was in that hospital.”

“Yeah. Never having talked to him, we don't have any idea how he found you, although it's possible Jeannine may have asked him to look you up.” I waited half a beat before adding, “Those lawyers of hers might know who he is.”

“If they do, they're probably in cahoots with him.”

His attitude made me wonder if Calvin had reached the same conclusions Wyatt and I had, or if this was simply the snappish mood of an irritable convalescent—either of which rendered a phone conversation inadvisable. “Maybe. We'll never know unless we ask.”

His sharp inhale was accompanied by a wince, reminding me that being resuscitated had repercussions of its own. “Go ahead and set up an email account for me and write that letter. I'm sure you'll know what to say better than I would.”

“I'll do that right now, but I'll read you the message before I send it. Okay?”

“That'll be fine.”

I refilled his iced tea glass and headed into my room. The email account took no time at all, but I gave it a better password than Calvin might've liked. I smiled, recalling Nick's online woes. Hopefully, he was steering clear of the porn sites.

After clicking the hyperlink to the law firm's email address, I wrote a short message, then carried the laptop into the mess hall and took a seat in the chair beside Calvin's recliner.

“How's this? ‘My name is Calvin Joseph Douglas, formerly of Liberty, Texas, and currently residing on the Circle Bar K Ranch near Rock Springs, Wyoming. Although we have been estranged for many years, Jeannine Douglas Caruthers was my sister, and I am saddened by the news of her passing. Please offer my condolences to the surviving members of the Caruthers family.' I figured it would be best not to ask about the will at first.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Let them do the talking.”

“Okay to send it?”

He nodded again, and I clicked the send button, doing my best to downplay my sigh of relief.

“Be interesting to see how quickly they respond,” he said. “Especially since they've prob'ly got someone else just itchin' to get their hands on her money.” His laugh was a mirthless cackle. “Bet they'll be glad to hear I don't want it.”

“None of it? Seriously? I'm guessing it'll be a pretty penny.”

He shrugged. “What on earth would I spend it on—and who would I leave it to when I die?”

“Those are things you'll have to think about, but I wouldn't bother until we hear back from them. They may only want to send you a few family mementoes.”

“Like what your granddad left me? Yeah. I wouldn't mind having those kinds of things.”

I closed the laptop and stood. “In the meantime, I need to get back to the kitchen or dinner might end up being less than edible.”

“Angela told me something else,” he said as I turned to go. “She told me she'd asked you to stay on as the cook.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“Couldn't be happier,” he declared, and from the way he was smiling, I was fairly certain he meant it. “I never did care much for the job, even when I was in the Army. Matter of fact, I told the folks at the draft board I was a pretty good shot with a rifle. Damn if the sonsabitches didn't turn around and make me a cook.”

“Ah, the mysteries of the military bureaucracy,” I said with a chuckle. “Then again, you were probably one of the few who weren't begging to be a cook.”

“Hadn't thought of that.” The twinkle in his eyes was the first I'd seen since his return from the hospital. “You might be right.”

I took my computer back to my desk and returned to the kitchen with a much lighter heart than I'd had in some time. At least we were doing something instead of simply mulling over possibilities.

* * *

About half an hour later, I was chopping the romaine when the men came in from the barn. I glanced up as Wyatt came sauntering into the kitchen. No orgasm on sight this time—possibly because Nick was with him—but the hug and kiss he gave me nearly did the trick.

“Guess what?” Wyatt said. “We found another cut in the fence.”

“Yeah, and it looks like the fence bit back this time.” Nick's eyes glowed with ghoulish delight. “We found blood on the end of the wire.”

“Serves him right,” I said with a nod. “Don't suppose you scraped it off for evidence, did you?”

Wyatt shook his head. “No, I thought it best to leave it where it was, but I did cover it with a plastic bag. Maybe we can get a forensics team to take a look at it.” His tongue-in-cheek tone suggested just how unlikely he thought that event would be.

“You never know what'll turn out to be important.” I shot Wyatt a look that heralded my own bit of news. “Calvin told me to send that email.”

“What email?” Nick demanded. “What haven't I heard?”

“Bloody hell,” I muttered. “I probably shouldn't have said that. We need to have a group discussion to bring everyone up to speed on all this stuff. I'm sick of trying to remember who knows what and telling the same story over and over again.”

Wyatt nodded. “Might be the right time for that. I wouldn't want anyone to do something stupid just because we hadn't told them everything.”

For the most part, Calvin was the only one whose feelings we had to consider, and he was the one we were trying to protect. I didn't think it would be a problem unless he decided to get stubborn about it, or had another heart attack after hearing our attempted murder theory. No one else seemed to want to tell him because of that possibility, but I had an idea Calvin was made of sterner stuff.

“Let me talk to Calvin,” Wyatt said. “I'll see what he says and then we can go from there.”

Nick looked like he was about to bust a gut with curiosity. “Oh, come on! You can tell me.”

I figured it wouldn't hurt to let a least one cat out of the bag. “Remember Bull's cockamamie murder theory? We may have discovered a motive.” I put up a hand. “That's all I'm saying, so don't bother asking me to tell you anything else.”

“Hot damn,” Nick exclaimed. “I knew it!”

I couldn't help chuckling as he darted off toward the mess hall, obviously taking me at my word. “You know, he really is wasted on a ranch. He needs to start working on a degree in criminology.”

“He
is
pretty sharp,” Wyatt agreed. “And his timing is excellent.” Sidling up behind me, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me against him. Heat transferred instantly from his chest to my back, and his erection snuggled nicely between my buns.

“Holy cow, that feels good. My back is killing me, and you're like a freakin' heating pad.”

His breath on my neck triggered a mass eruption of tingles. “I can do a lot more than provide heat.” He took a step back and settled his hands on my shoulders. “Might be time for me to return the favor.”

He was obviously referring to the shoulder massages I'd given him. “Not sure I have time for that right now.” I'd given him twenty minutes. At the moment, I didn't have that much leeway.

“Oh, yes, you do.” His voice was a deep, caressing rumble that felt almost as good to my ears as his hands did to my aching back. Almost, but not
quite
…

I put down my knife and leaned forward, bracing my hands against the edge of the countertop as he kneaded my back muscles with his strong, warm fingers. “Mmm…” When he reached the spot between my shoulder blades, the orgasm I hadn't had earlier threatened to put in an appearance. “Ahh…yesss… Right…
there
…”

“Not hurting you, am I?”

“Maybe, but it's a good kind of pain.”

“Like a bite on the neck?”

Laughter pooled in my chest before bubbling to the surface. “I'm getting a reverse déjà vu vibe here.”

“Like I said, I'm just returning the favor.” His hands slid to my lower back. “And later on, I'll return another favor.”

“Mmm…promises, promises. I'm still a bit out of commission, you know.”

“Not for what I have in mind.”

“And what's that?”

He pulled me upright, his lips brushing the edge of my ear. “Total. Body. Massage.”

“Ooh, sounds fabulous.” I shivered in anticipation. “Will my masseuse be naked?”

“Absolutely. And you can do anything you want with him.” A kiss landed on the spot where my neck and shoulders met, setting off another avalanche of goose bumps. “
Ask
him to do anything.” His lips closed over my earlobe, the tip of his tongue providing an additional tease that threatened to melt me down on the spot. “
Tell
him to do anything.”

“Oh my…” He was asking a lot from a notoriously shy woman. But then, he'd cured me of that affliction, hadn't he? “What if I told you to dance naked on the bed?”

His chuckle combined with his embrace was even more stimulating than the kiss, but in a different way, making me feel loved and cherished. “Not sure the bed could take that kind of abuse, but if you insist…”

I shook my head. “Hypothetical question. Too dangerous, anyway.” I turned to face him. “And I want to keep you safe. Don't ever want anything bad to happen to you.” I reached up to stroke his cheek, tracing the line of his firm jaw with a fingertip. My hands were still damp from the lettuce, but he didn't seem to mind as I cupped the back of his neck in my palm and pulled him down for a kiss. “Not even falling off a bed.”

The moment our lips met, that same delirious, almost mystical sensation began swirling through me, touching my heart as well as my core and making my head swim. The things this man could do to me…

“Dammit all,” Nick snapped from the doorway. “I leave you two alone for ten seconds and look what happens.”

I broke off the kiss with a show of reluctance that wasn't the least bit feigned. “I thought you
wanted
us to get together. I mean, the whole double bunk thing was your idea.”

He threw up his hands. “Hey, I'm fine with you two doing whatever it takes to make you want to stay on here. I just don't want it to interfere with dinner, which is probably getting burnt to a crisp. I need pork chops, and I need them now!”

His eyes twinkling with amusement, Wyatt folded his arms and leaned against the counter, seemingly content to sit back and watch the battle unfold.

“Keep your shirt on, Nick,” I said, aiming a glare at the guy who was rapidly becoming my favorite cowboy—not counting Wyatt, of course. “You'll get your pork chops—although not as many as you might like since we're having guests for dinner.”

“I know,” Nick mourned. “I spotted the three of them heading down from the house just now. Hope you cooked a ton of chops.”

“Not quite that many, but with all the stuff I put on them, I'm sure they'll fill you up good.”

His expression brightened momentarily before morphing into a frown. “Did you make any pies?”

“Yes, I made pies,” I grumbled. “Two of them.”

“Hmm… Two pies cut into six pieces makes twelve servings.” His eyes lit up again. “There are only eleven of us.”

“Not counting my dog, who happens to have a fondness for butterscotch pie.”

“Well, shit.” Nick grabbed a stack of plates. “Guess I'll just go set the table.” Muttering under his breath, he stomped off to the mess hall.

I could've easily split my pie with Ophelia and used the twelfth piece to placate Nick—as big as the chops were, I didn't think I'd have much room for dessert anyway—but while I doubted I would hear any complaints from Ophelia, I could only imagine the ruckus Bull would raise if Nick claimed the extra serving. I didn't think it was worth the drama, nor did I believe he deserved any kind of reward for interrupting a darn good kiss.

Wyatt grinned. “I thought he'd never leave.”

Scooping me into his arms, he picked up where he left off, ravaging my mouth with lips and tongue and making me forget all about mundane things like pork chops and butterscotch pies.

Until the smoke alarm went off.

“Bloody
hell
…”

Further investigation revealed that while the pork chops weren't burning, some of the sweet potatoes had sprung leaks, allowing a fair amount of their sugary pulp to drip directly onto the heating element. Never having baked that many at one time, I was unprepared for the spectacular results.

Fortunately, I had a trained firefighter standing by.

I'd never seen a man move that fast. Wyatt turned off the oven, flipped on the exhaust fan, and had the fire extinguisher in his hands before I even had time to react. Not only was the fire out in a matter of seconds, he even managed to do it without causing any further damage to the potatoes.