Allister, J. Rose - Disowned Cowboys [Lone Wolves of Shay Falls] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (20 page)

Aimee’s jaw fell. “That’s not possible. There must be some sort of accounting error.”

“I thought so at first, too. But the account was paid in person this morning.”

She sat up straighter in her chair. “By whom?”

“I don’t know, ma’am. The other clerk took the payment. She said he was tall and handsome, though. Figured he was Mrs. Stevens’s son, or your husband?”

“I’m not married.” Yet.

Tall and handsome. Her eyes fell to the door across the hall that was marked
D. Anders
in gold lettering.

“Well, someone took care of the bill.”

“And the clerk was certain the man was paying for the right Mrs. Stevens? It’s a common last name.”

“He specifically mentioned you as the durable power of attorney.”

So it was David, then. She suppressed a hiccup of emotion. “Thank you.”

She hung up and stared down at the envelope. Why had he done this? And could he really afford to give that much help when she hadn’t even answered his proposal? His investment company was successful but small and a literal his-and-hers operation. David was the investment consulting genius, and she little more than a glorified secretary. Did he truly have one hundred thousand dollars to toss away on a whim?

He’d made the ultimate gamble to ensure her answer would be yes, and what else could she say now? No wonder he’d given her that tight little smile when she’d mentioned the overdue payment. And why he’d chased her around the desk like a randy high-school boy and kissed her right in her office. He already knew he’d won.

Laughter came from behind his closed door, and she sighed and tucked the envelope away in a drawer. David Anders’s investments always paid off, his clients said, and here was another example where that claim was about to be proven right. Just one thing remained—getting his ring back. She knew where she had to go to get it and who she had to say a firm and final farewell to before closing that door in her heart forever.

Aimee’s stomach lurched with a lopsided flip at the thought of never seeing Dillon and Kyle again. Climbing into David’s bed and doing the things she’d done with her cowboys felt wrong, somehow. How twisted was that? David was the one who had given her a ring. He had been the one to promise her help and then deliver on it. David was stability and calm routine. Kyle and Dillon were danger and secrets and supernatural intrigue. Maybe those things actually drew her to them on some level. Women always went for the bad boys, right? Still, attraction to an element of risk wasn’t love. What she was feeling for them wasn’t real, as much as her heart tried to whisper otherwise. Even though her emotions for the two men had dug themselves deep in the brief time she’d known them, she couldn’t act on them. Maybe she couldn’t imagine ever feeling this way about David, no matter how much he tried to romance her or how much money he generously applied to her mother’s care. But the bottom line was she’d gone for years without being impressed by the notion of romance. Suddenly, she was ready to throw responsibility to the wind—and for what? Hot nights riding a couple wild, dirty cave dwellers. Something had gone very wrong in her head.

The office door opened, and Stan Mathers slapped David hard on the back as they shared a private laugh. Both men were grinning ear to ear as David’s happy gaze landed on Aimee. Her heart gave a little skip, though she realized it wasn’t because he turned her emotions upside down. She merely didn’t know if he was about to start things up where they’d left off—or what she’d do about it now that she knew what he’d done.

“See you at noon,” Stan was saying, and he left.

David paused at the office door before turning toward her. “He asked me to lunch to celebrate his biggest dividend payout to date. And to introduce me to a couple of his golf buddies who have some money to invest. It’s up at the cigar club, unfortunately. I know you’d hate it.”

“That’s okay,” she said with a half smile. “I wanted to ask a favor, anyway. I hate to ask after coming in late, but can I take off early today? I have some errands to run.” She hesitated. “Later on, I’ll have that answer for you. Say, over dinner?”

His eyes searched hers for a span of beats. “Dinner sounds great. I suppose there’s not much else going on here today. I could probably spare you for a few hours after lunch.”

She nodded and hustled over to the file cabinet. If there was any truth to Dillon’s claim that her recent sexual escapades made her somehow more attractive to men, keeping distance between them seemed like a good idea. “You have three other meetings, one with the broker from Marlowe and Fitch at three, and two with new clients after that. They’re in the appointment book.”

“I’ll be fine. I know you need to go take care of your Mom’s payment.”

She pulled out a couple files and cocked her head at him. “Do I?”

He folded his arms. “Don’t you?”

“It’s okay, David. I already know.”

His eyes crinkled into an amused expression. “Know what?”

“I called Applewood while you were in the meeting. They gave me her account balance.”

“So, you’ll go handle your part today. My payment will mail out on the first, as usual. I hope that will be okay?”

She laughed. “David, don’t you think you’ve done enough already?”

“I know I acted like an ass last night, but I do intend to keep helping you with your mother. I wasn’t trying to hijack your answer to my proposal by making you think otherwise.”

No, just trying to hijack her heart away from the men who currently held it in a two-fisted grip.

“I’d say you more than proved that by your gesture this morning.”

He glanced at her desk. “You like the rose that much? I should have started bringing you flowers a long time ago.”

“Not the rose. I’m talking about Mom’s account.”

His brows furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

“You went down there today, didn’t you? To Applewood.”

He shook his head. “I had the breakfast meeting and then came here hoping you’d just forgotten and had showed up to the office instead of the restaurant.”

“But you stopped off for flowers. Did you go anywhere else?”

“I got the rose from the flower shop down on the corner.” He eyed her strangely. “What’s this all about?”

She blinked. Why was he playing innocent? Maybe he was trying to be discreet because he didn’t want her answer to hinge solely on knowing what he’d done. Maybe he was right. Her answer
shouldn’t
hinge on knowing about it.

“Nothing.” She closed the metal file cabinet and walked as far from David as she could to deposit the files on her desk. “I just need to take care of a few errands.”

“That’s fine. You head out at lunch, and I’ll pick you up around seven for dinner. Okay?”

She nodded, not sure whether things were okay or not. Either David was playing games with her or there really had been a mistake on her mother’s account. She would go down there in person to straighten it out and render the proper payment if need be. Then she needed to straighten out her head, once and for all.

Chapter Eight

Instead of marching straight into the business office as she’d intended, Aimee wound up at the nurse’s station by her mother’s room.

“She’s out in the gardens getting some air,” the nurse told her, directing Aimee to the rear door.

The gardens were sunny and warm, and her mother’s soft, brown hair shone under the bright light as she sat in a wheelchair staring at a peaceful fountain. A lump formed in Aimee’s throat to see her mother outside again. Jackie Stevens had dearly loved her own garden and spent so much time outdoors that Aimee’s main memories of seeing her mother inside involved cooking up the harvest from her garden.

“Hi, Mom,” Aimee said. She smiled at the attendant seated nearby.

The woman rose from the bench beside the wheelchair and smoothed down her white uniform smock. “I’ll leave you two to visit awhile. Just let someone know before you leave.”

Aimee nodded and took in her mother’s face. At just fifty years old, she looked twenty years older. The carefree, smiling woman Aimee remembered was gone, replaced by the slack-faced, often vacant expression she wore these days. Her pale pink bathrobe and scuff slippers did little to enhance the faded pallor that was a far cry from the suntan she’d sported most of Aimee’s life and probably a lot longer.

“I know I was just here yesterday,” Aimee said, knowing full well her mother wouldn’t remember any such thing. “I came by to talk to the business office and thought I’d say hello.”

Her mother’s gray eyes continued to stare at the three-tiered cement fountain. “Peaches for lunch,” she said.

“That’s nice. You love peaches.”

“Can’t count to twenty.”

The lump thickened. “That’s okay. The nurses or I will count with you whenever you need twenty.”

“No!” She slapped a hand on the arm of her wheelchair, and her gray eyes swiveled to Aimee. “No, no, no. It has to be twenty.”

It was one of those days. Aimee sighed. There were times when her mother sounded like a petulant child. Really, she knew it was random portions of her mother’s brain that were firing in a desperate attempt to retain a grip that was continually slipping away.

Aimee took her mother’s hand. “I’m here, Mom. It’s okay. You’re okay. Isn’t the garden lovely?”

That drew the woman’s attention back to the surroundings. “I keep the best garden in the neighborhood. I go out every morning and tend it until lunch.”

“I remember.” Aimee sighed. “It was really beautiful.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“I wish you could tell me what to do, Mom. I think I’ve really made a mess of things.”

“Clean up after yourself.”

She studied the lines etched in her mother’s face, around the eyes that used to be so caring, so
present
. “I wish I could.” Aimee used her thumb to trace the veins on the back of her mother’s hand. “Do you think it’s wrong to marry someone just because they can take better care of you financially than someone else? Am I a shallow gold digger? Shouldn’t I want to make sure you get everything you need?”

Her mother frowned, still gazing off into the garden. “Roses don’t bloom in January.”

“This is May, Mom.”

“No. I just threw that big New Year’s party.”

The last party she ever gave was during Aimee’s freshman year in high school.

Her mother’s hazel eyes found hers. “You know your problem? Your head rules your heart. Always has.” The woman shook her head. “So sad.”

Aimee gawked at her. “But, it’s good that I use my head. I can’t let love take control. Love won’t help me take care of my life.”

“Love takes care of everything.” Jackie reached over and patted Aimee’s hand. “Love makes you find a way, Susan.”

Her heart sank. “It’s Aimee, Mom. Your daughter.”

Her mother screwed up her face into a squint, deepening her wrinkles as she studied Aimee’s features. “I have a daughter?”

Tears came as Aimee nodded, even though she had made a firm decision long ago to never let her mother see her cry over her condition. She wiped a hand over her eyes to clear her blurry vision, only to see her mother’s were glazed over, too. “Oh, Mom. Don’t cry. Everything’s just fine.” Aimee sniffed and turned to the bright rose bushes nearby. “Isn’t the garden lovely?”

A smile touched her mother’s face again as her gaze drifted off. “I have the best garden in the neighborhood. I’ll be putting up preserves this weekend, if you want to stop by for a jar.”