Trayce’s hearing was uneventful, aside from seeing that white-hatted freak Chaz loitering in the back of the room again. On her double-take, he disappeared, but she knew she’d seen him. She’d have to ask Cleve about it. Chaz was supposed to be in Texas.
Acknowledging some motion Trayce’s lawyers filed, the judge temporarily suspended Trayce’s sentence, so he was free until the judge waded through the big-shot attorneys’ paper deluge. Not good news, but at least she was safe with Cleve around every evening.
She’d called her great-aunt Sophia in Kansas City, and arranged for Grandpa to go visit. This he agreed to, unaware he was being shipped off for his protection. But seeing the doctor was another matter. He had an appointment for the next day for a full physical. Now she stood in Grandpa’s driveway, arguing to the death with her only blood relative. And in telling him he had to have it in order to fly to Kansas City, had fibbed just a little.
Like a mule planting his feet and refusing to budge, he insisted he’d not go to the doctor.
“It’s not up for discussion, Grandpa. I have to let our insurance go after this month, and all you’ll have left is Medicare. You have to go now, so we can get your meds while they’re still covered.” Another fib. If she managed to lease the hunting rights out, she intended to keep Grandpa’s supplemental insurance.
“I don’t need no damn doctor to tell me I’m getting old.”
“Dammit Grandpa, if they can help you feel better—”
“They can’t help what’s wrong with me.”
What did you do with a mule who wouldn’t budge? Hit it between the ears with a two by four? Or maybe pull its ears? Get him where it hurts.
“If you really think you’re dying, won’t you go get medicine so you can live longer, for me? You’re all I have left in the whole world.” She buried her face in her hands. Hopefully he’d fall for her old trick of hiding nonexistent tears.
“Oh, all right. I’ll go, but it don’t mean I’m takin any drugs they give me. Don’t cry, Peanut.”
Eureka!
Driving home after her stop at the pharmacy, she reflected on the conversation she’d had with Nate. He’d overheard her call to the clinic on the way back from court. Her doctor had given her a prescription for only one month of pills, insisting that she come in for a Pap right away. Her appointment was Friday, the day after Grandpa left for Kansas City.
“Pills and Paps,” he’d taunted. “Guess you’re not prego, huh?” From her less than enthusiastic response, he’d concluded, “You’re bummed.”
“That would just be stupid.”
“Knowing you, you’re as pissed about being wrong as you are bummed about not being pregnant.”
“Being wrong? What the hell are you talking about?”
He grinned. “You thought you were pregnant. You were sure of it.”
“I was not.”
“Liar.”
She’d looked out the window then, hiding a sheepish smile.
“Shut up,” was her best response.
He laughed. “Oh, Kie. You’re so predictable.”
“Bite me, Cook.”
“Always a tease.”
Before allowing herself to laugh, she’d punched his thigh for good measure.
Cleve was in a fine mood that night. The corral wasn’t finished, not by a long shot, but definitely coming along. When she teased him, asking what time he expected his “cows” the next day, he laughed and tickled her. She made a pitcher of uncommonly strong margaritas to celebrate convincing Grandpa to see a doctor. They downed it, then another pitcher. She and Cleve sat giggling on her porch swing, watching deer grazing down the hill.
“Rocky, I got a business proposition for ya.”
“You gonna start payin me for sexual favors, Tex?”
“Sorry, can’t pay ya what yer worth, darlin.” They both cracked up for a bit. “I wanta lease yer huntin rights, then not let anybody hunt.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll pay ya what Trayce could get, then we won’t let anybody hunt here or on the Flyin H for, say, four or five years. And then there’ll be some damn trophy animals to hunt, huh?”
She nodded thoughtfully. “It’s—” She hiccupped. “A Get Rich Slow scheme, if I ever heard one.” More giggles. “You’re the wisest man under thirty I ever met.”
“Mm. Let’s go to bed, Rocky.”
“Yeah, let’s. I’m pleased to announce I just had the shortest period in history. My yoohoo is ready for action again.”
“Hot damn.”
* * * *
Cleve swallowed hard as he watched Rocky’s truck disappear in a cloud of dust down the road. Against his better judgment, he’d let her drive to town and back alone with that skinhead still on the loose, but he’d have to help unload the cattle today. Besides, he had to meet the excavators and general contractor for his house.
He’d called Nate the minute she left, making him swear if she hadn’t reached him in thirty minutes, he’d come looking for her to make sure she wasn’t broke down or stranded with a flat on the side of the road. Yesterday he’d done the same and she was none the wiser, which Nate agreed was best. She’d balk at the idea of them keeping tabs on her, and this way she felt independent.
Even though the guy could drive himself, she’d gone to take Wins to the doctor. She’d likely be right in the thick of things, making sure the doctor shared his diagnoses with her so she could take charge and force her Grandpa to comply with any directives. Did she know she ran Winston’s life with more authority than he and Nate combined had tried to impose on hers? He guessed Mr. Day put up with her mothering only because she meant the world to him. Well, the old man wasn’t the only one who cared about her.
Parking Kiersten’s ATV in front of the pink trailer house, he hummed a few bars of Lady and remembered her drunk and crying in his arms after they’d made love. No way did she remember the things she’d said in the dark. She’d thanked him for not leaving her when he found out she wasn’t expecting. As if he could. And told him she was sorry for costing his dad a fortune.
Seemed she’d told Pop’s potential sellers about his offers for Rocky Peak. By his calculation, it would raise Pop’s purchase price on the two properties by about a half-million each, by the time he wheedled the sellers down. A cool million she’d cost Pop, in one swat. Pop should be calling any time, good reason for his phone to stay in the truck. There’d be fiery hell to pay. He reckoned only Mama would get a kick out of it, laughing off Pop’s temper. Well, Kiersten was worth every bit of the trouble she caused.
After she’d confessed that she loved him in spite of trying hard not to, he didn’t imagine there was anything she could do that he wouldn’t forgive her for.
Two of the new four-wheelers were gone, which meant Cash and Dusty were out tearing up the hills before their workday started. Through the not-so-level front window, he could see Rowdy reclined in an expensive leather chair.
The rev of an engine coming up the road caught his attention. Black truck with gold accents, pulling a gleaming horse trailer. Clay.
When Clay wasn’t around, he was able to function, but a little lost. Kind of like the feeling he got when he forgot to wear his watch. Some thoughts wouldn’t complete in his head when Clay wasn’t around. Some thoughts didn’t need to be spoken when Clay was, because his brother would just know, the same way he had just known and understood how Clay felt about men, and didn’t feel about women. He didn’t share the feeling, but recognized it as part of who Clay was, a slice of his core, like being a twin. Both had been popular in high school, often dressing alike and popping in and out of each other’s classes as their whims caught them. Clay got a little weird when one of his girlfriends would mistake him and handle him in the halls, but he was good at acting and had even filled in for him when he’d overbooked his schedule. Thank the Lord, Clay had never asked him to return the favor.
The fancy truck drove up and stopped. After an unabashed hug, Clay stared, agog, at what was likely the ugliest house he’d ever seen.
“What in hell are you livin in?” he finally asked. “Chaz. Chaz did this, didn’t he? Lord, it’s awful.”
“I can’t say it grows on you.” Cleve shrugged. “And the inside is way worse.”
“That man has the worst taste of any person alive.”
Yep. Chaz had bad taste, all right. Including his homophobic dislike for Clay, which was another reason for the sanctimonious bastard to be at the top of his shitlist. He tried not to let it show, had been told to let Clay handle his own problems, but he’d never been able to sit idle and watch his other half be treated lousy.
Clay took a minute to look around in all directions, taking in his surroundings. He nodded his approval, then looked back at his cargo.
“We haven’t built a stable for the horses yet,” Cleve said. “It’s a lot of work getting the ranch up and goin.”
Clay grinned. Razzing on the way. “From all Pop’s complainin, you’ve done nothin here but fire Chaz and keep The Enemy on her back.”
Rowdy’s noisy exit out the front of the house did little to stem Cleve’s embarrassment.
Clay asked, “She really as mean and nasty as Pop says?”
“Meaner.” And wait’ll Pop found out what she’d done this time.
* * * *
Semi trucks hitched to stock trailers, parked one behind another along the road, hindered Kiersten’s progress up the normally empty county road. Behind the last one, animals milled in confused mayhem. She took a deep breath. God, she’d have been irritated if she’d been dealing with anyone but Cleve. Might as well park. It’d be awhile.
Several truck drivers congregated near the first truck paused in their conversation to tip their hats and give her a “Howdy,” as she walked past on her way to find Cleve. Stepping gingerly in her heeled sandals around the inevitable and enormous messes cows left behind, she was too busy to scowl when one of them whistled. Nate and all his stupid ideas about dressing like a lady. If she was in her jeans and boots, it wouldn’t matter so much where she stepped, and she wouldn’t feel like she might lose her balance and drown in a lake of cowpies.
A gravelly voice came from the back of the last trailer. Rowdy, listing off names and numbers, what sounded like head counts from each truck. Another very familiar voice grunted “Okay” after each number.
Cash sat on the fence across the road. “Howdy, Kiersten. Lookin for Cleve?”
She smiled, waved, and nodded.
Cash’s grin widened, and he shouted in what seemed an unnecessarily loud voice, “Hey, Rowdy, here’s Miss Kiersten, lookin for Cleve! He’s right there at the truck with you, ain’t he?”
Rowdy chuckled, and Dusty called out, “Yep, Cleve’s right there. She oughtta head on back.”
Maybe the lack of oxygen had affected the cowboys. She rounded the back of the trailer. Next to grinning Rowdy stood Cleve, in different clothing than he’d had on that morning, but similar to what he usually wore.
He made a quick visual inventory from her feet to her face, and then his gaze settled on hers. Cash and Dusty watched from the sidelines, fascinated. Wherever Cleve really was, his guys wanted to trick her with his twin. And that twin was going along with it.
“Hey Tex, did you have to bring all the cows in Texas up here?”
Clay chuckled. “Cows? These are cattle, darlin. How was your Granddad’s appointment?”
“Oh, fine.” How long would he play along? Had Cleve primed him with information about where she’d been, or was Clay improvising? Silent Rowdy grinned alongside Clay. “He has high blood pressure. The doc gave him a prescription to help with his being short of breath. They did a full blood workup. We’ll have to wait a few days for the results, but he looks healthy.” How long should she play along? If the guys busted up laughing, they’d never believe that she knew right away what they were up to.
“That’s good, then,” Clay answered carefully.
As she moved closer, he looked a little like a mouse, which made her...the cat. She leaned against his chest, then stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips along his jaw back to his ear. Meow. He didn’t smell like Cleve, but he was definitely yummy in his own right. And he wore an earring identical to Cleve’s. Too sweet. She wrapped her arms behind his neck.
Rowdy looked about to bust.
Clay’s arms held her, but not tight. Just warm enough for appearance’ sake.
“Nice to meet you, Clay,” she whispered, tickle-soft. “Where’s Cleve?”
She stepped back then, and tapped a toe, arms folded across her chest.
“How’d you know?”
Cash and Dusty guffawed as they approached.
“Our Cleve’s a boob man. He always looks at my chest after he says hi.”
The guys laughed some more.
Cleve came around the other side of the trailer, gave her a quick smile, then looked at her chest.
His hello was drowned out by whoops as the guys elbowed one another and him.
“What?” he asked, completely confused.
Kiersten palmed his cheek consolingly.
“Any y’all remember how to ride a horse and herd cattle?” He had such an easy way with his guys.
Taking his hint, the three cowhands went to saddle up and get the stock off the road. Cleve signed his invoices with the truckers and handed them cash bonuses, sending them on their merry way back to Texas.
Alone with only Clay to watch, Cleve embraced her for a long, passionate kiss. When he’d finished, head spinning, she leaned against Cleve and self-consciously looked over at Clay.
Rather than looking away as she’d expected him to, he merely smiled. She should’ve felt uncomfortable about him watching. Clay looked utterly satisfied, like he’d fit the last piece in a puzzle. He nodded once at Cleve, exchanging a look she didn’t get to see on Cleve’s end, but she did feel him return the nod. Was it man-speak or twin-talk they were sharing?
A vehicle barreling up the road caused them all to turn. Nate drove up unusually fast, then parked behind Kiersten’s truck. His door slammed, then he stalked up the road toward them.
“My lord, who is that man?” asked Clay.
“Shit,” Cleve muttered. Behind Nate came Grandpa, taking much more care where he stepped.
“Excuse me, missy. Weren’t you supposed to call me when you made it home?” Nate demanded.
“Jesus, Nate. Settle down. I’m not home yet, as you can see. So excuse me!”
“I’ve been worried sick, you know. I didn’t know what might have happened.”
“The boogeyman doesn’t come out till after dark, Cook. Chill out.” Nate’s protectiveness was profoundly irritating, particularly in front of Grandpa. Arching her eyebrows to remind Nate of this fact, she called out, “Grandpa! I can’t believe you’re here,” and stalked away to meet him.
“I was feelin so good,” Grandpa said, “I decided to come stay a night with you before I leave town tomorrow. Got room for an old codger like me in your house?”
Arm around his waist, she walked with him over to the group. “Silly, of course! It’s your house, anyway. Grandpa, this is Cleve’s brother Clay,” she told him, indicating which of the twins she meant to introduce, “Clay Howell, Winston Day.” The two shook hands, then she introduced Clay to Nate. “Clay, this is the perpetually apprehensive Nate. Nate, Clay.”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen grown twins that looked so alike,” Grandpa said.
Clay looked serious. “We save a fortune on mirrors.”
“Which one of ya claims to be older?” Wins asked.
Cleve shook his head. “Mama can’t remember. The birth certificates say it’s Clay, but she couldn’t tell us apart for the first week, so we were both ‘the twins’ for a while. I might’ve really been Clay, or he may have.”
While Grandpa talked with Clay about twin stuff, Nate asked her in a hushed voice, “So, what’s the verdict on Clay?”
Loud enough for Cleve to hear, she answered, “He’s a handsome devil, that’s for sure.” Her heart fluttered in the warm glow of the smile Cleve flashed her. She all but forgot everyone else, gazing into those black eyes, until he broke the spell with a wink.
* * * *
The vision of the vulnerable little female staring at the tall Texan with her heart bared was not lost on Winston. Every protective bone in his body stiffened, even though he liked Cleve, who seemed like a real stand-up kind of man. Still, like him or no, a discussion needed to be had.