Gambling on a Secret (8 page)

“Okay. Call them. They can work on the fences and then the barn.”

He took a sip of his coffee. “I’ll get the storage barn in shape for holding feed and hay. It’ll be a mess to clean.” He lowered the mug and arched a brow. “But thanks to Uncle Sam, I’m no stranger to bullshit.”

She groaned and shook her head. “That’s just bad.”

His lips twitched into the rusty crooked grin, and as it had the other times she’d seen it, a quiver tickled her belly.

“I know. My jokes used to be funnier.”

Somewhere the real Dylan still lurked inside the shell. Would working for her bring him out?

“Tracy told me about what you’re planning to do with this place once you graduate.” He leaned back in his chair. “I think opening up your place to troubled teens is a great idea. Noble.”

Heat warmed her cheeks, and she looked down at the mug between her hands. “I hope I can get the support of the community. Without them, it won’t work.”

“Get the Cartwrights on your side and everything will be fine. If you haven’t figured it out yet, they pretty much run this county.”

She smirked at him. “They do seem to be pretty high up the food chain. The mayor’s nephew is the sheriff.”

“Not to mention Winnie Cartwright is the queen of gossip.” He picked up the pen and started tapping again. “Where should we start in the house?”

“We?”

“Of course, we. Tom and Jesse will be set to work on rebuilding the barn and stringing fencing. But I’ll need some help in here. I can teach you whatever you need to know. Mostly, I’ll need a gofer.”

“A gofer?” She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Sounds boring as hell.”

He stopped tapping the pen. “Probably is. I can hire someone else if you’d like. I figured you’d be interested in helping, otherwise you’d have hired a contractor and been done with it.”

How did he read her so well? “Yes, I’d like to help. It’ll be fun.”

“Fun, huh?”

She shrugged and picked up her cup. “Sure. But let’s take it slow. Rome wasn’t built in a day. Besides, the gofer has classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

He grinned and set off the fluttering in her belly again. How did he do that?

“I suppose on those days I’ll kick back and relax.”

“Not if you want a paycheck.” She drained her mug. “Where did you learn to be a carpenter? Was it something you learned in the Army?”

Shifting in his seat, he looked down at his hands. “No, I didn’t learn carpentry or plumbing or electrical work in the Army.” He toyed with the pen. “When I was a kid, Dad was stationed in Heidelberg, Germany. Right about the same time the Berlin Wall came down. Anyway, because my mother loved the city so much, we lived there instead of on base. Our landlord lived in the house next to ours and was a local carpenter. He took pity on me, I think.”

Folding her hands under her chin, she rested her elbows on the table. “Why?”

He exchanged the pen for his mug. “I was always something of a loner. Tracy was often my only friend. Anyway, Karl saw that and decided to take me under his wing, I guess. In the three years we lived in Germany, he taught me everything he knew. Including a very colorful vocabulary of German curses.”

“You learned enough to build the beautiful house near Killeen?”

“So, you went to the ranch?”

“Yes. Tracy said it’s Italian.”

Nodding, he looked into his mug, then took a drink. “Brenda and I were stationed in Italy for about a year before Nine-Eleven. It’s a sized-down replica of a villa we saw there.”

She had to press him despite the dangerous ground. Understanding his relationship with his ex-wife meant she’d begin to understand what happened to him. “How long were you married?”

He didn’t look at her, and for a long time, he didn’t speak. He tensed, and she knew she’d overstepped. She was about to tell him he didn’t have to answer when he said, “Eleven years. We met my first day of high school. Brenda was the prettiest girl in Colton High and was the head cheerleader. I was the new kid no one knew, a geek actually.”

“You, a geek? Never.”

“Oh, I was. I may not have been the stereotypical geek with the thick glasses and a calculator tucked into my shirt pocket, but I was an outsider. I could speak German and a few other languages, too, better than I could ride a horse.”

He stood and took his mug to the coffee maker beside the sink. His back muscles flexed under his t-shirt as he refilled his cup. An eagle and flag tat moved under his right sleeve as he slid the pot back on the hotplate. “Brenda and I had biology together. I loved it. She hated it. By the second term, I was her tutor and quite infatuated. By the end of the year, she was my girlfriend, and we both had a much better understanding of
biology
.”

He took a long draw on the mug and turned to face her.

Dylan didn’t enjoy talking about his ex, she could tell, but healing required discussing and dealing with the things causing the pain. Wasn’t she still learning that lesson herself?

He leaned against the edge of the counter. “We broke up a half dozen times. The longest time occurred while I went to Texas A & M and she went to Texas Tech. The last time was when I told her I was commissioning into the Army. But we always got back together.” He stared into his mug, and his already deep voice dropped an octave. “Now, she’s married to another geek.”

“High school sweethearts,” she muttered. She couldn’t begin to relate. Her
high school sweetheart
had been an older cowhand on the Long Arrow. Danny introduced her to sex and marijuana. With him, she could forget the grief and the hatred of her new life, but there was a price. She had to steal from her grandfather.

When Hank had caught her with him, he’d fired Danny and threatened to send her to boarding school if she didn’t straighten out. He refused to provide for another whore like her mother. So, she pretended to be the model granddaughter while waiting for Danny to come for her. When the loser hadn’t come, she’d run away to Las Vegas two months before her sixteenth birthday with an even bigger loser. There she’d met the ultimate loser, Ricardo Rodriguez.

Oh, yeah, she understood losers. Sweethearts–not so much.

He downed his coffee, put the mug in the sink, and turned to her. “After we get the stables ready, which room do you want to start in?”

She stood and tapped her fingers on the table’s edge. “I think probably the bathroom off my bedroom. I want to totally remodel it. For a house as big as this one, I can’t believe it doesn’t have more modern conveniences.”

“Jock’s parents added the first floor master bedroom suite. But Jock never did anything more to the house after they died. Okay, we’ll start in your bath.” He paused at the kitchen door onto the back porch. With an unsteady hand, he removed the brown Stetson from the peg by the screen door. “Miss Monroe, thanks for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome, but please, call me Charli.”

He nodded once and donned his hat. “Likewise call me Dylan or Quinn.”

She held out her hand. “Sounds good to me, Dylan. So, Monday we go shopping?”

His hand shook as he took hers. The sensation of his callused fingers brushing against hers sent tingles to her wrists. His eyes locked with hers, and he held her hand a heartbeat longer than needed.

“That’s the plan. I’ll be here at seven. Be ready to go.” He stepped through the door. “Goodnight, Charli.”

“‘Night.”

His warm touch tingled in her hand even after the door closed.

Chapter 4

Dylan pulled into a back parking space of the Longhorn’s parking lot a little before nine o’clock. Loud country music filled the warm evening with the twang of a steel guitar. His hands shook as he cut the engine and opened the door. He hadn’t had a drink since morning. He couldn’t remember wanting a drink while he was with Charli.

Something about her downright fascinated him. Especially the way she’d filled out those tight jeans and little tank top she wore today.

Had he totally lost his mind when he’d suggested she help him? He’d figured she’d balk and tell him to hire someone else in addition to Tom and Jesse. Now, he wished he’d suggested hiring another person. He’d never consider Tim the Toolman sexy, but Charli the Gofer could easily become the stuff of fantasies.

Dispelling the memory of her touch as he’d held her hand, he entered the honky-tonk. The place was packed. The local band, Texas Justice, played the stage by the crowded dance floor, rather than the jukebox providing the constant serenade of Strait, Garth, and Brooks and Dunn.

He made his way through the throng toward his usual booth, but a young couple, who looked happy in lust with each other, occupied his favorite dark corner. A cowboy nuzzled the neck of the redheaded girl in his arms. A redhead like Charli. Shit, he needed a drink.

He frowned at the couple who had taken his table. Someone called his name over Logan Cartwright’s loud rendition of Travis Tritt spelling out all kinds of trouble. He turned and saw Zack Cartwright sitting at a table near the dance floor. The last person he wanted as a drinking buddy was the Coke-drinking sheriff.

Looking around the room again, he found nothing. Resigned, he took the chair at Cartwright’s table. Funny how things happen. Zack Cartwright could have been his brother-in-law. Zack and Tracy had gone to high school together and had been crazy about each other during their senior year.

Until she’d started dating Zack’s best friend Jake Parker–without telling Zack she’d dumped him. After graduation, Zack had gone off to ride the rodeo circuit and won a couple National Finals Rodeos. But when Nine-Eleven happened, he’d joined the Marines and, like so many young men and women, had ended up in the Middle East where his life changed forever.

Zack leaned back in his chair. “Hey, Quinn.”

He settled in the chair across from him. “You conducting a stakeout in the Longhorn, Sheriff?”

The Forest County sheriff, looking every bit the part of a cowboy, flashed a grin. “I’m not on duty.” He indicated the stage with a jut of his clean-shaven chin. “I’m here to see my little brother’s band. Lance and Audrey were supposed to meet me, but something came up and they couldn’t make it,” he added, referring to his cousin and his wife.

“I should make time to stop by to see them sometime.” Dylan looked around at the crowd and searched for a waitress.

Julie Larson was waiting on another table. She’d get to them. Her job also included collecting the cover charge and checking IDs, since there wasn’t a bouncer at the door. He often wondered how she and her sister, Ella, kept track of everyone, but somehow they did.

“Lance and Audrey would like that.” Zack took a drink of his Coke. “So, I heard you’re working for the new owner of Blackwell Ranch.”

“Affirmative. Started today.”

“I’m glad you found something, Captain.”

He pinned the former Marine with a glare. He didn’t deserve the title or the respect in the sheriff’s voice. “Don’t call me that.”

Cartwright shrugged and looked back at the band, which started the next set with a cover of
Ol’ Red
. “I wanted to talk to you while you’re sober enough to understand.”

“Ha, ha.”

Zack raised a blond brow. “You can’t deny I’m usually dragging your ass out of here.”

“No, suppose not.” He shifted in his seat. His hip hurt like a son-of-a-bitch tonight. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I’d like you to talk at the Memorial Day banquet I’m planning at the American Legion.”

He narrowed his eyes on the other man. “No.”

Cartwright leaned his tall frame back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why not? I’m talking, and Uncle Paul’s speaking about his time in Nam. We even have old Henrietta Parker talking about her days as a WASP.”

“Good for you. Sounds like you don’t need me.” Where the hell was Julie? He looked around the room again. “Besides, I’ll be busy. Have a job now and all that.”

“Wow. What a slave driver. You can’t even have a few hours off.”

He shrugged. Julie waved, and he gave her a nod of his head.

“What’s she like?”

Julie stopped at the table and smiled at him, although he didn’t miss her apprehensive glance at Zack. “Your usual, Dylan?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Once she left, he looked at the sheriff. “Who?”

Grinning, Zack lifted his glass and took a draw on his Coke. “The girl who bought the Blackwell place. She’s made quite the stir by buying that old ranch. Usually, we don’t know one college kid from the next until they do something to draw attention to themselves.” His grin turned cocky. “Which usually only involves me and my department. But Miz Charlotte Monroe has managed to have the whole damn town wondering.”

He drummed his hand on the table. Come on, Julie. Where was his drink?

“She buys Blackwell Ranch right out from under your uncle, and she bought four of my best quarter horse mares.” Zack chuckled and shook head. “Knows more about good horseflesh than I would’ve ever given her credit for.”

“I don’t know anything about her.” He shifted in his chair again, but this time, his hip wasn’t bothering him.