Somebody Like You (13 page)

Did Thelma Hanson hold the key to her family’s history? No Texas waltz here. Anticipation did a lively Irish jig in her stomach.

How would she stand the wait? It was like being handed a beautifully wrapped gift and then told you had to hold it for a day or two before opening it.

Whatever gem lay inside would still be there, though, wouldn’t it?

T
he morning sun barely skimmed the treetops when Annelise turned off the highway and onto Hardeman Lane. Cinders crunched beneath the wheels of her Harley. Pausing on the side of the drive, she breathed deeply and revved her bike. Not yet seven o’clock and she was already tired. Between her fight with Cash and the new lead from Oliver, she’d barely slept. Her mind refused to leave either alone.

How would she make it through the workday ahead? But then, maybe she wouldn’t have to. Cash might send her packing the minute he laid eyes on her. No going back. One more breath, then she drove through the massive wrought-iron archway announcing Whispering Pines Ranch.

How had things gotten so messed up?

Well, at least she had a backup plan for the day in her hip pocket. If Cash refused to listen to reason, she’d drive to Lone Tree this morning. To Ms. Thelma’s.

And be sorrier than she could say.

Heading down the long driveway, dust boiled up behind her. She slowed to a crawl and studied the huge red barn, the weathered sheds, the paddocks with horses already grazing.

The big white house sat at the end of the lane, pots of geraniums marching up its wide steps. Roses trailed over a trellis and added another splash of red. The old house looked like it wanted to wrap you in a warm hug. The same sure couldn’t be said for the woman who lived inside. Vivi wasn’t likely to be putting out the welcome mat for her anytime soon.

Yesterday, she’d been all fired up, excited about making her new home truly hers. The fact that Cash had shown up, stayed to help, and share the day had been, well, the absolute icing on the cake. Until their fight.

After they’d finished slinging hurtful words at each other and he’d left, she’d switched the radio from his country-and-western station back to her classical music. Even though her heart hadn’t been in it, she’d knuckled down and plodded on, putting the apartment together.

What a shame. The makeover deserved more than a halfhearted effort. She’d wanted it to be perfect, the paint along with every single piece of furniture, every doodad, every piece of fabric.

She’d agonized over the color, then given into whimsy. Tiffany’s in New York was one of her favorite places in the world. The amount of time she’d spent there, the money she’d left there, the number of little blue bags she’d carried out—embarrassing.

This morning, though, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, she woke up, feeling as though she was inside one of Tiffany’s jewel boxes. Trimmed in cream and oh, so fresh smelling. It made her smile. Sunlight crept through the gauzy ivory curtains and reflected off the secondhand crystal lamp she’d placed on the now cream-colored nightstand.

Dottie, dressed in a more subdued than usual pink and white housedress, had wandered upstairs last night, her arms filled with flowers from her garden. Texas bluebonnets, daisies, foxglove, and some baby’s breath. Arranged in a thrift-store vase, they looked better than any florist’s bouquet.

Annelise had held her breath while Dottie moved from room to room, her hand trailing over surfaces, her eyes moving constantly from one area to the next. Finally, unable to wait any longer, she’d blurted, “Do you like it?”

“Like it?” Her landlady laughed. “Honey, this place hasn’t ever been this pretty.” She’d patted Annelise’s cheek. “You did good. Real good.”

High praise.

Lying in bed, she’d hugged herself. She’d done it. With lots of elbow grease and a hodgepodge of new-to-her treasures from LeRoy’s, she’d transformed the dingy place. Expunged Roger Barry’s presence.

Annelise Montjoy lived here now. Maybe.

She’d originally come to Maverick Junction because she thought it would be a good jumping-off spot for her search. Close enough for access, but far enough away to hide her true agenda. After she met with Ms. Thelma, there’d be no need for subterfuge. Come to that, there’d be no need to remain in Maverick Junction—except, if she was totally honest with herself, for Cash.

If he wouldn’t speak to her, wanted nothing more to do with her, or worse, insisted she leave—Well, that was too painful to think about. And she refused to examine too deeply the reason for that.

She hoped he hadn’t really meant it when he fired her yesterday. Besides, how could he fire her? He wasn’t even paying her. So, in reality, she was volunteering. A volunteer couldn’t be fired. Could she? But he could accuse her of trespassing. Maybe even have her arrested.

But he wouldn’t. Would he?

She had to talk to Thelma Hanson. And the less anyone knew about her, the closer she could get to the truth. So much was riding on this. Another couple of days and she’d know.

They needed rain. Everything was as dry as a two-day-old croissant. Morning and night, she practically bathed in the cheap moisturizer she’d picked up at Sadler’s. If she stayed here much longer—and, God, she prayed she could—she’d have to start buying the stuff by the vat.

Since, in this case, discretion seemed the better part of valor, she pulled up behind the barn and parked her bike. She went in through the back door and refused to think of it as sneaking in.

Bent over a saddle, Hank rubbed oil into the heavy leather. He glanced up when she walked in. Then he took a good hard look and straightened. “What’s ailin’ you?”

She jammed her hands into her jeans pockets. “Nothing. Why?”

“’Cause you look like forty miles of bad road, that’s why.”

Her mouth fell open.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Hell of a thing to say to a pretty gal like you. But, Annie, if you so much as looked in a mirror before headin’ out here today, you gotta know I’m tellin’ the truth.”

She blew out a breath and scuffed the toe of her boot over some loose straw. “I didn’t get much sleep.” Taking her hands out of her pockets, she ran them over her hair. “Do I really look that bad?”

Hank nodded toward the small bathroom. “Mirror’s in there.”

“Well, I—”

Cash strode through the front door, Staubach at his heels. “Hey, Hank, do you know where—” His gaze landed on Annelise and turned hard. “What are you doing here?”

“Working.”

“No, you’re not. I told you, you’re fired.”

Staubach danced around her legs, and she leaned down to rub his head, his chin. She swore the dog grinned.

“Staubach, get over here.” Cash snapped his fingers and pointed at a spot beside him.

The dog dropped heavily onto the floor at Annelise’s feet. Cash glared at him as Staubach’s tail wagged happily.

“Traitor,” he muttered.

“I love working here, Cash.”

“Oh? So just like that, I should keep you on? Consider everything okay?”

She shrugged.

“You held back a few cards, Annie. Some trumps. You played me for a fool.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hank pick up the rag he’d been using on the saddle and disappear into a backroom. Coward.

Cash swore. Nothing even remotely hospitable or sympathetic showed in the eyes that met hers. “I came to you yesterday morning, Annie, hat in hand, and apologized for making unwanted advances.”

“They weren’t unwanted.” Her voice sounded small and tentative, even to herself.

“Come on, Annie. Get real.”

“Oh!” Frustrated, she slapped her thigh. “You get real, Cash. You know darn well that both of us actively participated the other night at your place. We’re equally accountable for what went down there. Cliché or no, it does take two to tango, and I was every bit as caught up in that dance, in the moment, as you.”

“I can’t deny that, no.” He wrapped a hand around a stall post and leaned a shoulder against it. “But you’re the one who hit the brakes. Why? Pretty simple, really, now that I’ve got the facts. You’re out of my league, Annie…and we both know that. Me, I’m comfortable in cowboy boots and jeans. Beer in a bottle. You’re used to designer clothes and diamonds. Champagne in fancy crystal flutes.”

He shook his head, the muscles of his jaw working. “I have to wonder what you’re doing here. Besides the grandpa thing. Are you looking for a good time? Bored and hunting for a new experience? Admit it, darlin’. You don’t care one whit about me. I read the tabloids. Your highfalutin friends chew up men like me and spit them out. Maybe you figured it’d be fun to have a romp with an honest-to-God cowboy.”

“Romp?” Heat flared in her cheeks. She glanced around, wishing she could lay her hands on something to throw at him. “I thought, I truly thought, you saw the real me. The real Annelise Montjoy.” She swallowed hard. “But you don’t. You’re no different than anyone else.”

“Annie—”

“Don’t you dare Annie me. You can cheapen what happened between us, but I won’t. You honestly think I’m laughing at you?” She closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose. Making herself meet his eyes again, she said, “If I laughed, it was
with
you because I was having fun. Enjoying your company. I never, ever laughed
at
you.”

She opened her mouth to say more, but in one swift move, he pushed away from the post. “Bullshit! You’re good, Annie. Very good. You’re quite the little actress, and you’ve taken on a lot of roles the last few days. So the question is—how do I know which one is the real you? Or, for that matter, if any of them are.”

He tipped his head, and his eyes roamed over her. “I like the woman I met in the diner. The woman who slings muck in my barn and smears paint on her cheeks. But is that you?”

Her chest hurt. She could barely breathe. “You’re right, Cash. You
don’t
know me. Not if you have to ask that question.”

“Thanks for the newsflash, darlin’.” His fists clenched at his sides. “What a sucker I am. I watched you ride into town and thought you were the prettiest thing I’d ever laid eyes on. But you looked so lost. Right away, I jumped to the conclusion you needed help. So what did I do? Made sure you got settled somewhere safe, even helped you paint the damn apartment. And all the while, you don’t bother to tell me you’re Davis Driller Montjoy’s great-granddaughter. That you could buy and sell the state of Texas without coming up for air.” He kicked the nearest stall and had several of the horses whinnying. “Christ, Annie, that’s more than a small oversight. I feel stupid, and I gotta tell you, I don’t like the feeling.”

Annelise took several steps toward him.

“Stop.” He held up one hand. “Stay right where you are. I’m not in an especially friendly mood right now.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Cash. Not even the tiniest bit.” She walked closer. “I know you.”

He removed his cowboy hat, raked his fingers through his hair, then settled the Stetson back in place. “You probably do know me a whole heck of a lot better than I know you.”

He leaned forward and crawled right into her face. “And why is that?” He paused. “Oh, yeah. That would be because I was honest with you. Truthful.”

Her heart thumped like a flat tire on macadam. But she couldn’t back down. Not now. If she did, she’d have to leave, and she really, really didn’t want to do that.

Drawing in a deep breath, she closed the distance between them. Now, they were nose to nose and toe to toe. “I
couldn’t
tell you the truth. Not the first day we met. I didn’t know you, Cash. The paparazzi are beating the bushes for me. There’s a big price tag on my head. A lot of money to be made for a photo of the missing heiress.” She looked toward the rafters and blew out a huge sigh. “I simply couldn’t take the chance they’d find me. Not till I’d located my great-aunt.”

Rubbing the back of her neck, she said, “Then, when I started to get to know you, when I realized you would never betray me…” She shrugged.

“Damn you, Annie.”

So quickly she didn’t see it coming, he dipped his head and covered her mouth with his.

The kiss burned, it punished, it made her curl her fingers into the fabric of his shirt and hold on for dear life. When he finally pulled away, she was breathless. Brainless.

“Why is all this so important to you?”

She blinked. “What?”

“I said, why is all this so important?”

“The ranch?”

“No.” Impatient, he gripped the pommel of the saddle Hank had been oiling and almost ripped it from the stand. Then he slashed the air with his hand. “The whole running away thing. I understand the grandfather part, but there’s more to it than that.”

His comment caught her off guard. He was right. She leaned against Shadow’s stall and, without thought, rubbed his muzzle when he bumped his head against her. Her hand trembled. She hadn’t dared admit it even to herself, but, yes, there was more.

Her eyes found his, shaded by the brim of his hat. “Have you always wanted to run a ranch? This ranch?”

“Careful there.” He nodded toward Shadow. “That no-good hunk of horseflesh would as soon nip you as look at you. He’s a sneaky SOB.”

“He won’t hurt me.” She scratched the horse between his ears. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Cash made a sound low in his throat, somewhere between a growl and a humph as the horse nickered. Even Staubach kept a wary eye on the horse.

“And you”—she pointed a finger at Cash—“you didn’t answer my question. Have you always wanted to run Whispering Pines?”

“Yeah. I have.”

“Have you ever left here? Been free of the ranch?”

He squinted at her. “Free of it? Strange way to put it, but, yeah, I guess so. When I was away at college.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Texas A&M. That’s where all Hardemans go.”

“Is it the school you wanted to attend?”

“Hell, yes. Go, Aggies.” His eyes clouded. “Too bad you won’t be around come football season. I’d take you to a game. But then, you have better things to do.”

The man was seriously trying her patience. Bracing for another dig, she asked, “Like what?”

He didn’t disappoint her.

“Oh, I don’t know. Spending Daddy’s money, flying off to movie premiers, having brunch with the girls. Some women like to spend other people’s money.”

“You’re comparing me to Vivi.”

He said nothing.

“That’s unfair. And untrue.”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“It is, and you know it. Admit it.”

He said nothing.

“You’re wrong, because I’d take you up on that football game invitation. Too bad I won’t be here, though. Why won’t I, you ask?” She waited a beat. “Because I don’t have a job. I got fired, and the boss is being a real bozo about hiring me back.”