скачать книгу бесплатно
“Infamous!” the woman howled. “I’m a lot of things, but none of them infamous. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Abby. I hope you enjoy your stay in Ramblewood.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too.” Abby shook the woman’s hand. “Did you say rum-vanilla cream pie? Sounds scrumptious.”
“Oh, honey, let me cut you a slice.” Maggie rushed off to the kitchen before Abby could object, which was fine by her. She was never one to turn down a slice of pie.
“She seems nice.” Abby reached into her bag and handed Clay a prewritten check, confident Kay had sent her in the right direction. “This is your retainer. And, yes, I’m paying you now because you won’t find anything derogatory about me when you do your background search. I added a little more than what we discussed over the phone because I don’t want the possibility of extra expenses causing any delays.”
Clay took a sip of coffee and folded her check in half, tucking it into his shirt pocket. “I won’t know what we’re looking at until I start digging around. When we spoke on the phone, you mentioned you’d only be in town for two weeks. I can’t promise I’ll have anything by then. There are quite a few unknown factors in this case, but I’ll give you a status update every couple of days.”
“Here you go.” Maggie placed two slices of pie in front of them. “It’s on me, welcoming you to town.”
Abby smiled. “Thank you.” The scents of vanilla bean and rich custard wafted upward. If she could, she’d bottle the scent and bathe in it. She ran the side of her fork through the tip of the slice and lifted it to her mouth. Whipped cream melted into rum, with a slight tang that danced across her tongue.
“Oh, Maggie.” Abby’s eyes closed in bliss. “This is amazing. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, dear. Enjoy.” The woman left them to their dessert.
“Uh-oh,” Clay teased. “The Magpie has claimed another victim. You will forever crave Maggie’s pies from this point forward.”
“I swear.” Abby waved her fork above the pie, taking another bite. “This is better than sex.”
“I’ll admit, it’s pretty darn good, but darling, if you think pie is better than sex, you’re doing it all wrong.” He winked.
Abby folded her arms across her chest and laughed. “You may just have a point there.”
She finished her pie, then dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “I’m staying at Mazie’s Bed and Biscuit if you need me. I wrote my cell number on the inside of the folder even though I’m sure you already have it on your phone. I’ll leave you to your work.”
She swung her legs out from under the table, holding on to her skirt for dear life. Note to self, wear booth-appropriate clothing for future meetings. When she pulled her wallet from her bag, Clay rose and placed his hand on hers. There was that damn surge through her body again.
“Lunch is on me.” Clay’s hand lingered, giving hers another gentle squeeze. “I’ll be in touch soon.”
Abby fought the urge to reach up and give him a thank-you kiss, but thought better of it. No need to embarrass herself. His touch felt warm and comfortable, and after the past month, she needed human contact. She needed a hug, dammit—but she’d settle for this—for now.
* * *
THE CURVE OF Abby’s toned calves caught Clay’s eye as she headed for the door. How in the world she teetered on heels that high was beyond him. However, he appreciated the way they made her legs seem endless. The short skirt she wore added to the effect. What she lacked in height, Abby Winchester made up in confidence.
Although she was a bit too fancy for these parts, she definitely made the blood pump through his veins a little faster. But Abby was a client, and he knew enough not to mix business with pleasure. He’d made that mistake once and he’d have to live with the aftermath of it for the rest of his life.
Kay had sent Abby his way and now he wondered if it was because she thought he was the man for the job or if she thought he was the man for Abby. He didn’t understand why the Langtrys had a sudden interest in his love life. It wouldn’t be fair for any woman to get involved with him, not when he had nothing left to give.
Regardless of Kay’s reasons, Clay had a job to do, and until it was complete, he wasn’t going to lose sight of who Abby was. A client. He just wished she hadn’t run off so quickly after they had finished their pie. Another cup of coffee would have given him the opportunity to ask her a little more about her family and herself...purely for investigative purposes.
Clay had to admit, this was definitely his most difficult locate case since he’d become a private investigator. Nothing like zero information to go on. He redirected his attention to the papers before him. In a small town like Ramblewood, someone was bound to remember Abby’s family.
“Refill?” Bridgett held the pot over his cup.
“Yes, please.” Bridgett Jameson—here was a woman any man would be lucky to settle down with. His friend Jon Reese had a crush on her. If she’d only give the poor guy a chance. “Are you sure you won’t let Jon take you to the movies this weekend?”
“I’m sorry, Clay, he’s not the one,” she called over her shoulder, walking behind the counter.
The one. Clay had had his one and he’d lost her. He admired Bridgett for holding out, and he hoped once she found him, she held on tight. Life was too short, too fragile. In a matter of seconds, it could blow up in your face, taking all you loved with it.
Chapter Two (#u798dc167-f996-5b66-8f47-af1ba968ae77)
“He’s definitely single,” Mazie said over breakfast the next morning as she and Abby sat at the large dining table with a few of the other guests. “I don’t think he’s dated anyone since he moved back to town a few years ago.”
“Interesting.” Abby fiddled with her fork.
“I’m willing to bet if you head down the road to Slater’s Mill tonight, you’ll find him there, but you didn’t hear that from me.”
“Slater’s Mill?” An unexplained wave of anticipation washed over Abby at the thought of seeing Clay again.
“It’s a little honky-tonk a few blocks away. They have a big dance floor and there’s a band playing most nights. Just continue down Shelby and you’ll see it on your left. If you cross Cooter Creek you went too far.”
Abby immediately tried to visualize her clothing options, realizing her suitcase didn’t offer much by way of evening clothes. A social life after the sun set had never crossed her mind, so she had packed knitting needles and yarn, instead. She wasn’t usually this unprepared. She habitually overpacked when traveling. But once she’d decided to head to Ramblewood, she had focused solely on finding her sister, not the local bar scene.
“Is there any place I can buy something to wear tonight?”
“There’s Cowpokes across the street, but that’s more Western wear. You look more like the Margarita’s Ragpatch type. It’s one block down past the cleaner’s and Promise Travel. Big store, you can’t miss it.”
“Thanks for your help.”
Why did she care what she wore in front of a man she wouldn’t be around long enough to know much about? Between problems at work and the search for her sister, she didn’t have room in her life for a relationship, even a temporary one. If she were being honest with herself, though, she’d never felt more alone than she did now. Abby sensed Clay understood where she was coming from.
There had been a look of recognition in his eyes when she’d told him about Walter. His comforting touch had given Abby the impression he’d gone through similar grief.
Anyway, what was wrong with some much-needed, lighthearted fun—with the opposite sex? Normally, the thought of hitting a club was a drag, but that was because her coworkers and Wyatt usually brought dates.
After Abby found a dress and boots at Margarita’s Ragpatch, she headed back to the Bed & Biscuit. Perched on the edge of her four-poster bed, Duffy rested alongside her, exhausted from another afternoon romp at the Bark Park.
The room was larger than she had envisioned it would be when she had read the online brochure. Quintessential Victorian, yet one hundred percent pet safe. A romantic, floral stencil covered the walls, which meant no loose wallpaper seams to entice curious animals to pull.
On the bed laid a heavily embossed, yet easily laundered matelassé coverlet. Every piece of furniture was tall, with open access underneath for pets to retreat to, if they so pleased. Bed steps allowed older pets, and more petite guests, to settle in for the evening with little effort—a feature Abby was particularly happy to see. Needing a running head start in order to leap into bed was not her idea of a nightcap.
Safety covers protected electrical outlets so wayward paws and curious noses didn’t poke where they shouldn’t. The room was free of lace so small nails wouldn’t snag. Nothing dangled to beguile its furry occupants.
Pet guests received a Mazie’s Bed & Biscuit placemat under their elevated food dishes. Amenities included fresh food bowls twice daily, filtered spring water and a dog-walking service, in case a pet owner was out longer than expected. Mazie brought the term creature comforts to an entirely new level, emphasizing the importance of pets to their human counterparts. Abby could use more people like Mazie on the hospital board, then maybe she’d get somewhere.
“I wish I had some answers, Duffy.” Soft snores emanated from the stretched-out form next to her. “Oh, sure, sleep your way through my troubles.”
Abby hated the abrupt way she had left her job the other day, but the combination of her defeat and Walter’s note had gotten the best of her. A break to reevaluate her situation was in order.
Physical therapy was her lifeblood, and she wanted to give her patients every opportunity to improve their lives. She had devoted seven years of school and two years in the field to helping others, and she refused to settle. She just hadn’t found the winning combination to sway the hospital to use pet therapy, but Abby was confident they’d see things her way eventually. Failure was not an option.
She checked the clock. It was an hour later in South Carolina than Ramblewood, but she took the chance her supervisor would still be working. The phone rang twice. “Physical Therapy, Angela speaking.”
“Hello, it’s Abby.” She peeked out the window and admired a couple holding hands as they crossed the street. “How are my patients doing?”
“Hey, girl.” Angela’s voice sounded tired. “They’re good. They keep asking about you, though. You did take off rather suddenly.”
“I know, but it couldn’t be helped. Please tell everyone I’m thinking of them. Has there been any further improvement with Donald Davis?”
“Some,” Angela sighed. “Although he isn’t as cooperative with the other therapists.”
Abby groaned. She felt horrible for abandoning her patients without explanation, but she knew they were in capable hands. Her colleagues were some of the best in the state, and many of them supported her bid for animal-assisted therapy. No matter their qualifications, some of her long-term inpatients had a harder time adjusting to another therapist. And in Donald’s case, he had a tendency to get downright ornery with anyone other than Abby.
“Donald has more respect for people who don’t let him get away with any crap, despite the arguments that may ensue. You just let him know I expect him to be on his best behavior or he’ll have to answer to me when I return.” That alone should bring a smile to the elderly man’s face. “I know I left everyone in the lurch, but I had to do this.”
“I know you did.” Angela was more than her supervisor, she was a close friend. “How are you doing?”
“You know me.” Abby paced to the other side of the room. “Keeping busy. I’m in Texas following up on Walter’s mystery note.”
“Oh Abby,” Angela said. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“I came here to find answers. I may or may not be looking in the right place, but at least I’m doing something about it instead of playing the wondering game.”
Abby sat on the bed steps, drawing her knees to her chest. She’d been a toddler when her mother had married Steve Winchester, and she had no recollection of the event. The day her brother was born five years later, though, that was another story. She’d never forget that wonderful day. Abby had doted on Wyatt from the beginning. Although, she had always felt like an outsider when she saw him and their parents together. Wyatt was their biological child, and even though Steve had raised her as his own, it still bothered Abby that she’d never know the feeling of belonging the way Wyatt did. There were too many what-ifs surrounding Walter’s note and she was afraid they’d consume her if she didn’t look for the truth.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for.” Angela’s words competed with another voice through the phone. Hearing a muffled sound, Abby suspected that Angela had covered the mouthpiece. “I’m sorry, I have to go. You’d better keep me posted.”
“I will.” Abby hung up, climbed onto the bed and lay back on the pillows. She missed her patients, the interaction, the progress they made and the determination that drove them further each day. But she wasn’t about to feel sorry for herself. She’d witnessed far too many of her patients battling horrific injuries and overcoming major obstacles so they could live fully again. Their situations were why Abby refused to allow the phrase self-pity to enter her vocabulary.
She glanced at her snoozing dog. “I think you have the right idea, Duffy.”
Abby closed her eyes, and her thoughts immediately drifted to Clay. Naturally, she had noticed how tall, muscular and downright sexy he was, but more importantly, he held the key to her future. Abby thought back to what Clay had told her at The Magpie. If he found her sister, the woman may not want Abby to know anything about her. Abby’s search would be over without a single answer. That scenario had never crossed her mind. Could she live with that? Abby didn’t think so.
She turned onto her side and ran her hand down Duffy’s back. Maybe Kay did have a point about exploring what Ramblewood had to offer. Abby wouldn’t mind running into the single P.I. tonight. Maybe he’d show her around the town her parents had once called home. Ramblewood was part of her past and she might as well make the best of her trip.
The shrill of her cell phone startled her. The number for CT Investigations splayed across the screen. Had Clay found her sister already?
* * *
AFTER SEARCHING THE courthouse and town hall for information about Abby’s sister—and turning up nothing—Clay headed home. Fortunately, he had managed to wrap up another case, so at least the trip wasn’t a total loss. Placing Abby’s ornate file folder on the counter, he groaned. Why couldn’t he shake her from his mind? He dug his phone out of his pocket and flipped open the folder. Before he could change his mind about calling, Abby answered.
“So soon?” Her voice burst through the earpiece.
“Excuse me?” Clay asked. What did she mean by soon? Did he break one of those female rules that said he had to wait a certain amount of time before calling? They’d had a lunch meeting, not a date. He didn’t think those rules applied here.
“I can’t believe you have something already,” Abby said. “Did you find my sister?”
“Um, no. Nothing yet.” Clay’s jaw clenched, already chastising himself for what he was about to ask. “I wondered if you’d be interested in grabbing a bite to eat. I wanted to discuss your family a little more to see if there’s something you hadn’t thought of before.”
“Sure, that sounds fun.” Clay detected Abby’s enthusiasm over the phone. Was it because he had called, or was she simply bored with Ramblewood’s limited tourist activities? Not that it mattered. Once again, he reminded himself she was a client. Her enthusiasm or lack thereof was of no concern to him. “Where did you have in mind?” she asked.
“Depends what you’re in the mood for. We may not have much to do around here, but our Cooter Creek Restaurant Row draws crowds from clear across the county. There’s Cajun, French, Mexican, German, sushi and steak. Then around Main Street we have Chinese, pizza and your standard burgers and fries fare.”
“I’m absolutely jonesing for some Chinese, if that’s okay with you. It’s my favorite.”
Amused by her expression, Clay didn’t think the phrase “jonesing” came from South Carolina. Must be a part of her northeastern upbringing. “Chinese it is. Six o’clock all right? I’ll pick you up at the Bed and Biscuit.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
“I’ll see you then.” Clay hung up the phone and banged his head repeatedly against the kitchen cabinet. “Why did I do that? I had no business calling her. This is a job, she’s a client and I’m an idiot.”
Yet he hadn’t been able to get Abby out of his head since meeting her yesterday. The woman had gotten under his skin and he hadn’t allowed that to happen since Ana Rosa. His fiancée’s face had begun to fade from his dreams lately, and though he tried to hang on to every memory of her, some days they began to blur. The thought of losing her memory terrified him. If only he’d done things differently and told her the truth. There were no second chances, though. Both Ana Rosa and her son were dead. And it was his fault.
Clay grabbed a beer from the fridge and glanced around his old farmhouse. Shane was right, it hadn’t changed much since the day he bought the place. Well, maybe he had opened a box or two when he’d been searching for a particular item. It had been so long since he’d looked inside any of the boxes, he had trouble remembering what he owned.
Clay had entertained thoughts of donating everything to the local thrift shop. And why not? After surviving this many years without the boxes’ contents, he obviously didn’t need whatever was inside. But he knew one of those boxes contained their photos. Reminders of the days they’d spent together, promises he’d made to them of a future and a life free of fear. All of them broken—every single promise—irretrievably broken.
“Dammit!” Clay kicked at the screen door and stormed down the back porch stairs. Heading for the barn, he passed all his clients’ payments, including his newly acquired five-year-old Welsh pony, Olivia. Originally, he had planned to give the mare away, but when his gelding Dream Catcher had met Olivia, it was love at first sight.
At a little under thirteen hands, she was much smaller than his Morgan horse, but their silver-dappled coloring was almost identical. Clay figured the two were meant to be together. Once again, Abby came to mind—she was much shorter than he was.
“Get a grip, Clay.” He led both horses from the corral into the barn. “Abby’s not a pony and I’m sure as hell no gelding.”
Frustrated that he had let the slightest bit of Abby seep into his thoughts, he placed Dream Catcher in his stall. When he returned from feeding the goats, the horse stood in the middle of the barn, ears twitching and tail swishing as if he were about to bolt.
He’d forgotten to latch the door. Allowing Abby to cloud his vision had already complicated his life. His horse could be in danger if Clay couldn’t corral him back into the stall. The last thing he needed was to chase Dream Catcher down the two-lane road that was only a stone’s throw from the barn.
“Are you seriously going to do this to me today?” Clay held his arms wide attempting to make himself appear larger. He was afraid to close the barn doors behind him for fear the horse would turn and run out the other side of the building. If Dream Catcher ran straight for him, Clay at least had a better chance of catching the animal. “Come on, pal. You don’t want to leave your girlfriend here all alone, do you?”
Slowly, Clay inched forward. Dream Catcher lowered his head slightly and for a second, Clay wondered if the gelding was about to charge. Reaching for the lariat hanging on the barn wall, Clay hoped he had enough clearance to throw it before the horse turned and bolted.
Dream Catcher snorted and stomped his hoof, then nonchalantly walked into his stall.
“Are you kidding me?” Clay quickly latched the door. “What was that—a test? I’ve had enough of those today, thank you.”
Tests he was apparently failing. Why had he opened his big mouth and asked the pint-size blonde out to dinner?
Because he lacked enough good sense to keep his distance.
He lived a quiet, uncomplicated life, and that’s how he wanted to keep it. The last thing he needed was Abby Winchester and her problems...only the fact that no one else knew of a sister didn’t sit right with him. Locate cases rarely resulted in a neatly wrapped gift box full of answers. Instead, they had a tendency to take on a life of their own with the subject of the search usually secreted for a reason. Clay’s gut told him Abby’s life was about to unravel. And that bothered him much more than it should have.
* * *
ABBY HAD PASSED New China earlier in the day and knew the dress she had bought at Margarita’s Ragpatch would be overkill for the tiny, ultracasual restaurant. It was definitely a low-key type of place. She slipped into her favorite curve-hugging distressed jeans and topped them off with a cotton and lace empire-waist sleeveless shirt under a soft peach linen cropped jacket. As she rolled up her sleeves and slid some wooden bangles onto her wrists, she decided on a pair of platform chocolate-leather ankle booties.
Her mother’s words whenever they went shopping echoed through Abby’s head. Neutral pieces will carry you everywhere. You can always accessorize. Her mother, queen of the cruise lines, knew how to dress to impress. Her parents were perpetually off to some exciting locale. They were on second honeymoon number one thousand at this point. Wyatt and Abby never joined them, not even when they had been kids. Their grandparents had taken care of them while Maeve and Steve sailed off into the sunset.
Abby admired their relationship. They were one of those perfectly in sync couples who finished each other’s sentences, and she was willing to bet they were as much in love today as they were when they met. Maybe more. Abby dreamed of the day she’d find her soul mate. She’d been planning her wedding ever since she was a little girl. But a wedding would never happen unless she cleared her schedule a bit and actually took the time to meet someone.
Downstairs, she told Mazie she was going out for the evening. Mazie said she’d look in on Duffy and take him for a walk if Abby was gone for more than a few hours. Mazie’s devotion to her pet guests more than justified the higher cost of staying at the Bed & Biscuit, in Abby’s opinion. Many hotels didn’t take pets and fewer offered dog-walking services.
Abby decided to wait for Clay on the Victorian’s expansive wraparound porch. White antique rocking chairs invited guests to relax among the fall flowers in various sized pots and hanging baskets decorating the porch’s perimeter. Serenity and intoxicating florals welcomed you to the Hill Country region of Texas the second you stepped out the door.
“You look very pretty, dear.”
