A Cowboy's Touch (29 page)

“I hope you’re not upset with us.”

Her aunt’s big eyes softened. She leaned forward and laid her wrinkled hand over Abigail’s. “All done in love, I know that. I may be as old as the hills, but I still got plenty of life in me.”

“I know, but I’m still relieved Dr. Garvin gave you the all-clear. Mom will be too. And, Aunt Lucy . . . I’ve so enjoyed my time here with you. I’m glad I came to Moose Creek, and I’m proud to be your great-niece.”

Her aunt blinked back tears. “Now you stop that or you’re going to make me fog up my glasses. You don’t fly home till Saturday. Maybe we can squeeze in another visit.”

“You can count on it.”

When Abigail returned from Aunt Lucy’s, Wade took one look at her sleepy eyes and delayed the picnic.

“Upstairs, right now,” Wade said. “You need a nap.”

“No, I don’t, I’m—” A deep yawn cut off her words.

He held up his hand. “Don’t want to hear it.”

“Better do it,” Maddy added. “When he uses that voice, there’s no changing his mind.”

Wade cornered Abigail upstairs and gave her something nice to dream about before joining Maddy in the living room. Today he was going to tell Abigail he loved her, was going to ask her to stay, but daggonnit, she wasn’t going to be falling asleep in his arms when he did.

Wade played Operation with Maddy. He was losing soundly for the fourth time when he realized he was having fun anyway. Seeing the smile on his daughter’s face was enough for him. Abigail had been right. Maddy needed him as much as he needed his daughter.

“You know, Maddy, next spring when we do the branding . . . well, you’re old enough to help.”

“Really, Dad?”

He nodded, and she sprang across the game and hugged him. “Thanks, Dad!”

His daughter was growing up, like it or not, and he planned to enjoy her company while he still had her.

After the game, Wade started on the dishes. Figured if he didn’t, he’d find Abigail in here later. When the dishwasher was humming, he dried his hands and joined Maddy in the living room where she was playing a game on Abigail’s laptop.

“Whoops,” Maddy said as he entered the room. “I accidentally hit something. I don’t want to mess it up; can you fix it?”

“You get Abigail’s permission?”

Maddy shrugged, handing him the laptop. “She always lets me.”

“Doesn’t mean you can sneak into her room and take it. Find something else to do until she wakes.”

Maddy made a face, then started up the stairs.

“Quiet up there,” he reminded his daughter. Abigail had had a solid hour, but he wanted her to be good and rested.

Wade set the laptop on his thighs. He hoped his daughter hadn’t messed it up. Looked like an e-mail had just popped open. He was set to minimize it and exit Maddy’s game when the subject line caught his eye.
J. W. Ryan Cover Proof
.

He frowned. The e-mail was from [email protected].

He scanned the message.

What do you think?
it read.

Dread swept through him, almost stopped his fingers from scrolling down the page. But he had to know. He scrolled down.

His own image stared back. An old photo from his rodeo days, the one they’d run in that ridiculous magazine contest.

Had Abigail found an old cover? If she knew he’d been a celebrity, why hadn’t she said something?

He scanned the headline beside the photo.
Cowboy Corralled
, it said in a large, bold font.
Where has J. W. Ryan been hiding, and why did he disappear after the mysterious death of his wife?

It wasn’t an old issue. The date on the cover corroborated the thought. His image blurred as the significance hit him like a hoof in the gut. Someone from
Viewpoint Magazine
had sent it to Abigail. The headline promised answers . . . He read it again, hoping he was wrong, that somehow this was a misunderstanding he’d laugh about later with her. She’d said she was a writer. Was this the kind of story she wrote?

Cowboy Corralled
. That pretty much said it all, didn’t it? And if his suspicions were true, Abigail wasn’t who he thought she was. He was tempted to snoop through her e-mails, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it without more evidence.

He’d investigate on his own computer. Wade dumped the laptop on the couch and went to his office. He typed Abigail’s name into a search engine. If that was even her real name . . .

The first listing was on
Viewpoint
’s website. He clicked on the link. The feeling of dread spread through him like venom.

Abigail’s photo stared back and beside it, the title of a column.
The Truthseeker
. Was that what she was? There was a headline and an article underneath, something about a corrupt politician. Those weren’t
stories
. Those were investigative reports. She was a blasted investigative reporter.

He clicked on her name and was directed to a bio. She’d written for
Viewpoint
for six years, earned her own column three years before, and had since collected awards for her exposés.

Well, bravo for her. She was here to “expose” Wade—for what? What had he done except try to make a decent life for his daughter? He’d opened up to this woman about his deepest fear. Had trusted her with something he’d never told anyone, not even Dylan.

He was a fool. He’d seen enough to know that. He pushed back from the desk. Needed to get out of there. He stormed out to the barn, his mind spinning with the events of the past three months. Something dark and ugly swelled inside.

He needed air. He needed . . .

When he entered the barn, he stopped in the cool musty shade. His breaths came and went with effort. He wanted to hit something, anything. He balled up his fist and swung for the nearest object, a saddle hanging on its peg.

He was so angry, choking with it. She’d played him for a fool. Had used him and his daughter, an eleven-year-old, for heaven’s sake. Who did she think she was, coming into his life, into his house—

Into my heart
.

He couldn’t go there right now. Didn’t dare. It was too much to swallow at once. Way too much.

He had to think. Had to digest what this meant for him and Maddy. Abigail was writing an article, obviously. She’d come here to spy on them, and he’d kindly let her right into their home. So much for protecting his daughter. He’d let her down again. Let her down just as he’d let Lizzie down.

He took another swing at the saddle, knocking it to the floor, letting out a roar that clawed up his throat.

At least he hadn’t told her the details of Lizzie’s death—thank God for that. But she knew where they lived. What more did she need? She had everything she needed to sell tons of magazines. She’d get herself a little recognition for her big scoop, maybe even a nice bonus from her boss.

Focus, Ryan
. He had to think about Maddy. What could he do? No way could he stop the article. If she’d come here to do something so duplicitous, so heartless, she wouldn’t back down now. Wouldn’t throw away a summer’s worth of work and lies. He pictured her face, the way she’d looked at him when he’d kissed her before the nap. So convincing. Oh yeah, she was good all right.

Think!
He had to make a plan. There’d be a media frenzy when this hit the news. Other magazines, even the newsmagazine shows, would pick up the story. They’d descend on Moose Creek like mosquitoes on a wet dog.

He’d be back to hiding in his house, screening his calls, and how would he shield Maddy from it all, especially with school starting? The bloodsuckers in the media wouldn’t think twice about hassling a kid if it got them what they wanted. Case in point: Abigail.

Wade paced the length of the barn, churning up straw and dirt with his angry strides.

The media would stir up all the things he’d worked so hard to put behind them. They’d trigger memories, remind Maddy of her loss.

They’d have to move again. Go someplace and start over again, just as they’d done in Moose Creek. The thought made his stomach turn over. This was their home, where they belonged. Abigail had no right to chase them from it.

And yet, what choice did he have? He didn’t want to be in the spotlight anymore, didn’t want to be gossiped about, especially didn’t want Maddy subjected to the cruelty that could come from such gossip.

But Abigail Jones had spoiled their safe haven. He wondered when the story would be published. How long did they have before life as they knew it was over?

Wade turned and paced the other way. His horses stared at him wide-eyed from over their stall doors. Ace whinnied, sensing his agitation.

A shuffling at the doorway pulled his gaze toward the opening. Abigail was silhouetted there, leaning lazily against the door frame.

33

A
bigail hated to admit it, but Wade had been right. A nap was just what she’d needed. Her headache was gone. Maddy had fallen asleep in her room, which gave her and Wade a few minutes alone. She searched the house, and when she didn’t find him, she went outside.

Abigail felt downright springy as she took the porch steps and made her way to the barn. The bright blue sky yawned overhead and the sun beat down, warming her bare arms. She glanced back at their vegetable garden, and the sight of new life put an extra bounce in her step.

The memory of Wade’s kiss just before her nap was fresh on her mind as she neared the barn door. She intended to pick up right where they’d left off.

When she entered the coolness of the barn, she heard Ace’s whinny and knew she’d found her cowboy. She stopped at the entrance, waiting for her eyes to adjust from the harsh sunlight. She heard Wade’s boots shuffle to a stop a short distance away.

“Feeling rested and frisky,” she teased. “You were right, I needed a nap.” And right now she needed his arms around her. She took a few steps in as her eyes adjusted. In front of her, a saddle lay in the dirt.

“Wade?” She saw him now, in front of Ace’s stall, and she smiled. “I found you.” She walked toward him, could almost feel his lips on hers.

“Reckon you did.”

He sounded odd. Her steps stuttered. His form, his features grew more defined as she neared. His jaw was set. His eyes, shadowed under the brim of his hat, revealed nothing.

“Wade?”

“I know who you are.”

His cold tone stopped her in her tracks, sent a shock of dread through her.
Please, be wrong
. “What?”

Ace whinnied again, scuffled his hooves in the stall.

“I know about the article.” He spat the last word like it left a nasty taste on his tongue.

No. Please, no
. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. “How—”

“You think I’m some ignorant cowboy?”

“No, I—Wade, you don’t—”

“Understand? I understand just fine,
Abby
.” The way he snarled her pet name was a slap in the face. “You get extra points for stringing me along?”

“Please, Wade, just listen . . .” She reached out to him.

He jerked away from her touch. “You used us.”

“No, I didn’t—”

“Used us, lied to us,
exploited
us.” He hit a stall door, and Abigail jumped. “You weaseled your way into my home and manipulated us into telling you things!”

“That’s not—”

“Tell me I’m wrong then!” His brows pulled tight. “Tell me you’re not writing some article. Tell me you’re not the ‘Truthseeker.’ That you don’t work for
Viewpoint Magazine
. Go on, Abigail, tell me.” He gave a harsh laugh. “Truthseeker. You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

A roaring filled her head. There was no breath left in her lungs. No words on her tongue. They all jumbled into a mass and clogged her throat.

“Yeah, what I thought.” He turned and walked away, his body rigid.

“You don’t understand. I know it looks bad, but I care about you, Wade. I care about you and Maddy both—”

He whirled and glared. “Heck of a way to show it.”

“I didn’t know who you were when I came here—I swear it! I was only applying to be your nanny. It was only later I realized who you were. My mom’s magazine was going under, September was our last issue, our last chance, and we needed a miracle to save it. I did it to save the jobs of all those people, and I hated what I was doing—I wanted to tell you the truth so badly! The article is very favorable, I promise, and I know—”