Harlequin American Romance May 2014 Bundle: One Night in Texas\The Cowboy's Destiny\A Baby for the Doctor\The Bull Rider's Family (26 page)

Rather than answer him she got out of the truck.

“I’ll walk you up to the apartment.”

“Thanks, but I don’t need an escort.”

Always the tough girl.

“In case you leave before I wake tomorrow...it was nice knowing you, Buck. Good luck with your rodeoing.” She walked away before he found the words to stop her.

He doubted he’d get much sleep tonight so he headed to Lucille’s for a beer. He stopped when he reached the cemetery and peered through the darkness at the headstones. He didn’t understand how Bernie made a living off ghost tours. The sheriff would be lucky if he gave one tour a year. Switching directions, he skirted the gate enclosing the plots and the famous hangman’s tree then knocked on Bernie’s trailer.

“Be right there.” The door opened a crack—enough to let out a handful of cats.

Loud meowing echoed through the darkness, and Buck raised his voice to be heard over the racket. “I’m leaving town in the morning and I wondered if I could take a ghost tour.”

“Tonight?”

“Isn’t that the usual time to take a ghost tour—when it’s dark outside?”

“Hold your horses.” The door closed in Buck’s face.

He walked to the front of the cemetery and waited. The same cold feeling he’d gotten before when he’d stood by the cemetery racked his body. He had a feeling he was no longer alone, but there wasn’t a soul in sight.

“That’s Maisy,” Bernie said, approaching from the opposite direction, several cats marching behind him.

“What do you mean, it’s Maisy?” Buck asked.

“She likes to stand next to people on the tour.”

Buck studied Bernie’s outfit. He’d pinned his star to the lapel of his 1960s tuxedo jacket, which he wore over his baggy jeans. He’d donned a top hat and held a key in his hand.

“What’s the key for?”

“To unlock the gate.”

Buck stared at the iron fence surrounding the graves. “I don’t see a lock.”

“Go ahead and try the gate,” Bernie said.

Buck pushed against the opening, but it didn’t budge. He pulled—no luck. “How the hell can that be?”

Bernie crooked a fuzzy eyebrow as if Buck was dense in the head.

“Where do you insert the key?” Buck asked.

“I don’t. We stand here until Maisy decides to let us in.”

“Then why the heck do you need a key?”

“People like the drama.”

Buck swallowed a groan. “How long do we wait for—” A squeaky sound interrupted him. “Did you hear that?”

“That’s Maisy’s signal to go in.” Bernie pushed against the gate and it swung open.

Buck followed his guide to the first grave—Victor Candor’s. He read the birth and death date. “Victor was fifty-six.”

“Maisy was twenty-four at the time of her death,” Bernie said.

Buck stared at Antonio Torres’s marker. “He was just a kid. Twenty-one years old.”

“Most folks believe Maisy planned to marry Victor for his money, but—” Bernie stumbled forward and Buck steadied him.

“Damn broad,” Bernie grumbled. “She gets pushy when I tell the truth.” He straightened his jacket. “Antonio came through town on his way to Los Angeles. He was from the Bronx, New York, and Maisy fell hard for the Puerto Rican’s good looks and accent. Antonio talked Maisy into running away with him, but Victor found out and confronted Antonio.”

Buck wasn’t sure if he believed the story of Maisy and her lovers, but after listening to Destiny’s account of the threesome and now Bernie’s, it was obvious everyone in town told the same story. “Sounds like a Hollywood movie script.”

Bernie went over to the tree and batted a hand at a rope, hanging off one of the larger branches. “This ain’t the same rope Maisy hung herself with. Someone stole the real one years ago.” The cats circled the tree, meowing. “Maisy’s cat, Henry, slept next to this tree for weeks after she died,” Bernie said. “Then one night he up and disappeared.”

“Destiny said there’s a rumor that sometimes people can hear Maisy calling for her lovers at night.”

Bernie cocked his head as if trying to hear voices from beyond the grave. Then he blinked. “You got any questions?”

“That’s the whole ghost tour?” Buck asked.

“These here are the only ghosts we got in Lizard Gulch.”

What a rip-off.
“How much do I owe you?”

“Ten dollars.”

Buck opened his wallet and removed two five-dollar bills.

Bernie shut the gate behind them.

“What about the cats?” The felines had sprawled out beneath tree, tails swishing.

“They’ll come out when Henry leaves.”

“Those female cats?”

“Yep.”

“Henry must be a Don Juan,” Buck said.

“See you tomorrow.” Bernie retreated inside his trailer and shut off the porch light.

No longer in the mood for a beer, Buck walked over to the motel, ignoring the uncomfortable pressure he felt pushing against his back.
You’re imagining things.
Just in case he wasn’t... “Don’t mess with me, Maisy.”

He entered his room and turned on the lights—they flickered twice, then everything went dark. He flipped the switch again—more flickering, then darkness.
Maisy?

The lights popped on but there were no remnants of mists or shadows in the room. “This is crazy. I don’t believe in ghosts.” He went into the bathroom and squeezed a dollop of toothpaste onto his brush, but as soon as he looked at his image in the mirror, the lights went off again.

He finished cleaning his teeth in the dark then when he returned to the main room, the lights came on. The motel was old—maybe when Melba turned the other rooms into her private living quarters, the construction crew messed up the electrical system. He stood at the window and stared down the street toward Destiny’s garage. A shadow moved past the apartment window above the work bay.

I don’t want to leave.

There’s nothing for you to do here.

Since he’d hit the road at the beginning of the summer, Buck had enjoyed the respite from working on cars with Troy. Then he’d run into Destiny and had seen her garage, and now he was itching to get his hands dirty again. But did he want to go back and work for Troy?

Maybe...maybe not. The one thing he knew for sure was that he’d been away from home long enough. He needed to patch things up with Will and see his new niece, Addy.

The lights flickered wildly then an instant later he swore he heard a gunshot. His hand automatically went to his chest, patting himself in search of a wound that wasn’t there. He must be imagining things. He shucked out of his clothes and slid beneath the bedcovers.

Right as he drifted off to sleep the muffled sound of a door slamming met his ears. Tomorrow he’d check with Melba about the lights and ask if one of her tenants in the trailer park got his kicks firing off a gun late at night.

Chapter Seven

Destiny stared at the crumpled front end of Bernie’s 1967 black Plymouth GTX that she’d towed into the garage after he’d knocked on her door at the crack of dawn asking for help. He’d crashed the car during a joyride and had walked two miles back to town. “How did this happen again?”

“I told you. I felt like taking a drive—”

“At four-thirty in the morning?”

“I had to get out of my place. Those damned cats wouldn’t stop meowing after I gave a ghost tour last night.”

“Who took the tour?”

“Buck.”

Poor Buck.
He must have been bored out of his mind.

“It was the darnedest thing,” Bernie said. “The steering wheel just locked up and I couldn’t turn the car. At least the brakes worked, and I wasn’t going that fast when I hit the boulder.”

“I can do the engine repairs but not the body work.” The fender, headlights and hood had sustained considerable damage. “You’ll need to contact your insurance company to—”

“I don’t have insurance, and I can’t afford to take it into one of those fancy collision centers in Kingman. Can you pound out the worst of the dents?”

A low whistle rent the air and Destiny and Bernie glanced up from studying the car. Buck strolled into the garage, looking well rested and sexy as all get out. Destiny braced herself—he’d come to say a final goodbye, and she refused to act all stupid when she sent him off with a smile and a nice-knowing-you hug.

“What the heck happened, Bernie?” he asked.

“What does it look like? I crashed my car.”

“That’s a shame.” Buck circled the vehicle, eyeing the damage. “The GTX was a beauty.”

Destiny noticed Buck’s pickup wasn’t parked outside. He must have walked from the motel. “I guess you’re ready to hit the road.”

“Mind if I have a word in private with Destiny?” Buck spoke to Bernie.

The sheriff retreated to the office and switched on the TV. Left alone with Buck, Destiny resisted fidgeting when he peered intently at her face. She hadn’t slept a wink last night, wondering if their paths would ever cross again.

“I can help you with Bernie’s car,” he said.

Her mouth went dry. Maybe Buck didn’t want to leave town—or her. “You don’t know a thing about cars—you said so yourself.”

He stared at the toe of his cowboy boot. “I wasn’t exactly truthful with you when you asked me that question last week.”

He locked gazes with her and she felt light-headed. “You lied to me?”

“I’m a certified mechanic,” he said. “When I’m not rodeoing, I work for a friend who owns a car repair business.”

Embarrassed, she resisted touching her burning face for fear the skin would melt onto her hands. “What kind of mechanic?”

“Mostly engines but I’ve done body work on occasion.”

Oh, God.
“So you know...”

“That you stranded me in Lizard Gulch on purpose?” He inched closer, his fresh-from-the-shower scent overwhelming her. “No woman’s ever tried to hold me hostage.” His brown-eyed stare bored into her. “I’m glad you did.”

She ignored the blip in her heartbeat, more certain now than ever that he had to leave. But when she opened her mouth to tell him to go, the words caught in her throat.

“Let me help you work on Bernie’s car,” he said.

“I don’t have the money to pay you.”

“I’ll take room and board in exchange for my labor.”

“What’s wrong with your motel room?” Besides costing him money.

“I don’t like my roommate.”

Destiny chuckled. “Is Maisy bothering you?”

“Hey, I don’t believe in ghosts, but last night I swore I heard a gun go off.”

“You didn’t hear this from me...” Destiny lowered her voice. “Melba and Bernie are behind all the ghost pranks.”

“What? Why would they do that?”

“Beats me. I think Melba gets a kick out of scaring people and Bernie plays along because he can make a few bucks off ignorant tourists who happen to stumble upon the town.”

“So everyone in Lizard Gulch knows the story of Maisy and her lovers is a ruse?”

“The story is true. As for the lights flickering and the gun firing off,” Destiny said, “all for show.”

Bernie poked his head out of the office. “You gonna fix my car or not?”

Destiny ignored him and spoke to Buck. “If you stay and help me you won’t be able to rodeo.”

“There’ll be other rodeos.”

“Your family?” If she had a family like Buck’s, she wouldn’t want to be away from them for any length of time.

“Don’t worry, they don’t miss me.”

He doesn’t want to leave.
Destiny yearned to accept his offer, but if he moved in with her, there was no telling what would happen between them. He wasn’t a man a woman could ignore—not even a pregnant one. “How long will it take you to pound out the dents in Bernie’s car?”

“Two or three weeks if you have the right tools. Longer if you don’t.”

C’mon. You know you want him to stay.

“It might be a good idea to keep me here,” he said.

“Why’s that?”

“With Custer causing trouble for the town, my help would give you more free time to take care of your mayoral responsibilities.”

Hire him, Destiny.
What could it hurt? “You’d have to sleep on my couch.”

“That’s better than paying fifty dollars a night at the motel.”

“Okay. You can bunk down in my apartment in exchange for working on Bernie’s car.”

“You won’t regret this.” His smile promised her that she would.

Destiny entered her office to give Bernie the news. “Buck says he can fix the dents in your car, but it’ll take at least—” An unfamiliar vehicle pulled up in front of the motel and she walked over to the front window to get a better look. “Who’s that?”

Bernie pressed his face against the glass. “Never seen ’em before.”

Mitchell emerged from the car. “What’s he doing here?” she said.

“Looks like he brought reinforcements with him,” Bernie said when a couple came into view. “Think I’ll mosey on down there and find out.”

Mitchell escorted the man and woman into the motel office. She’d find out soon enough who they were. Spinning on her heels she went back into the garage and found Buck beneath the Plymouth.

“The fuel pump’s damaged,” he said.

Destiny rubbed her brow, already regretting her decision to hire Buck. The last thing she needed was another man telling her how to do her job.

* * *

“T
HE
MUSIC
SURE
is loud over at Lucille’s,” Destiny said.

Buck had been watching her the past hour while they took apart the engine in the Plymouth. She was antsy, and he worried that she regretted hiring him and inviting him to crash on her couch.

A rumbling sound echoed near his ear. “Sorry.” She pressed a hand against her tummy.

“You’re hungry.” He checked his watch. “It’s four-thirty. You want to call it a day?”

“Sure.”

They pushed their creepers out into the open and stood. “What do you say I treat you to dinner at Lucille’s after we clean up?” he said.

“Thanks, but there’s a frozen pizza in the freezer with my name on it.”

“Skip the pizza and meet me at Lucille’s in a half hour.” He walked out before Destiny had a chance to protest. Back in his motel room he showered and changed into a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt. He had a couple more outfits left in his duffel, before he had to find a place to do laundry.

When he stepped outside his room, Melba was waiting for him. “Did you hear?”

“Hear what?”

“We’ve got visitors in town.”

“Tourists, movie stars or freelance reporters?” he asked.

“Jim and Delores Docker. They’re from Pennsylvania.”

“It’s a little early for snowbirds, isn’t it?”

“They’re friends of Mitchell.”

That couldn’t be good.

“I don’t know their story,” Melba said. “They’re eating supper at Lucille’s tonight.”

“I’m meeting Destiny there. I’ll walk over with you.” After they crossed the parking lot, he said, “I’m checking out of my room tonight.”

“You’re leaving? Bernie said you were fixing his car.”

“I’m staying awhile longer, but Destiny offered me her couch in exchange for working on the Plymouth.” He sent Melba an innocent look. “Last night I swore I heard gunfire.”

“Really? I didn’t hear a thing.”

“And the lights kept flickering on and off.” Buck struggled not to laugh. “It happened right after I took a ghost tour with Bernie.” He stopped in the middle of the street. “You don’t think Maisy followed me back to my room?”

Melba’s eyes twinkled. “Destiny told you, didn’t she?”

“So it was you playing with the lights?”

Melba continued walking. “I have a master switch in my apartment.”

“What about the gun firing?” he asked.

“I shoot a blank into a pillow.”

“So everyone knows when they hear a gunshot that you’re the estranged shooter?”

“Nope. Just Bernie and Destiny. The others believe the ghosts of Victor and Antonio are shooting at each other.” She tugged on his shirtsleeve. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” When they reached the steps to the saloon he asked, “What about the Dockers? You don’t plan to scare them, do you?”

“Hell yes, I do.” Melba winked then entered the bar.

Lucille’s was hopping—everyone in town must have heard about the Dockers and stopped in to get a look at the couple.

“Melba!” Mitchell waved.

Buck followed the motel manager across the room. Melba stopped in front of the middle-aged couple and introduced him. “This here is Buck Owens Cash.”

Mitchell hooted and shook his head. “Every time I hear your name I laugh.”

Buck curled his hands into fists then relaxed his fingers. His reaction had been instinctive—ingrained in him from years of ridicule by classmates and rodeo competitors.

“Buck Owens was one of my grandmother’s favorites,” Docker’s wife said. “She saw him in person on
The Ed Sullivan Show.
”

Mitchell gestured toward the lady. “This is Delores Docker and her husband, Jim.”

Buck shook hands with the couple.

“Mark said you’re from Pennsylvania. What part?” Melba asked.

“We live in the Society Hill Historic District in Philadelphia.” Delores squeezed her husband’s arm. “Jim has his own law practice there.”

Another lawyer.

“Hasn’t Destiny fixed your truck yet?” Mitchell asked.

“She has, but I’ll be sticking around a little longer.”

Mitchell frowned. “You’re not thinking of moving here, are you?”

Before Buck decided how to answer the question, Destiny appeared at his side, wearing cutoff shorts and a tank top that showed her lizard tattoo. She’d secured her curls to the top of her head with a clip but several strands had fallen free. She looked sexy, and Buck decided he’d rather order his food to go and eat in Destiny’s apartment than sit in the bar.

“Who are you?” Destiny spoke to the Dockers.

“This is Jim and Delores Docker from some historic district in Philadelphia. They’re passing through town,” Melba said.

“Mitchell has told us great things about Lizard Gulch,” Jim said. “My wife and I have been searching for a place to buy a winter home.”

“You mean trailer,” Melba said.

“Pardon?” Delores said.

“We don’t have any houses in Lizard Gulch, just mobile homes and two apartments,” Melba said. “One above the gas station, which belongs to Destiny, and the other one is over the pastry shop next door.”

Jim and Mitchell exchanged a smirk. “The Dockers are staying at the motel while they decide where to build,” Mitchell said.

“How long you two planning to be here?” Melba directed the question to Delores.

“A day or two.”

“You ought to stay longer than that,” Melba said, “especially if you’re thinking about moving here for the winters.”

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Destiny said.

“Why not?” Delores asked.

Destiny glared at Mitchell. “Didn’t you tell them we’re being pushed out by a land developer?”

Delores slapped a hand against her bosom, and Buck almost laughed out loud at her feigned shock.

“You’re jumping to conclusions, Destiny.” Mitchell took Delores by the arm. “Let me introduce you both to the others.”

After the group walked off, Destiny said, “There’s something stinky about the Dockers showing up out of the blue.”

“I know what he’s trying to do,” Buck said.

“Me, too,” Melba chimed in.

“Me, three,” Destiny said.

“Mitchell brought them here to break the tie.” Buck nodded to the Dockers. “I wonder how much he’s paying for their vote.”

“What are we gonna do?” Melba asked.

“Destiny can’t do a thing about it now,” Buck said. “Let’s eat.” The three of them sat at the bar and ordered burgers and onion rings. Since Melba was eating with them, Buck didn’t suggest they take their food to go.

“Damn, Mitchell plays dirty,” Destiny said.

“We could drive into Kingman and recruit more residents,” Melba said.

“We have to discourage the Dockers from wanting to move here.” Destiny chewed an onion ring and swallowed. “If we can’t then we’ll have to consider Melba’s suggestion.”

“Force them out,” Buck said.

“I’m tempted to sic our sheriff on them.” Destiny finished her burger in record time.

“For such a small thing you sure can pack away the food.” Buck slapped a twenty-dollar bill on the bar.

“May I have everyone’s attention?” Mitchell stood at the front of the room. “Now that you’ve all met Lizard Gulch’s newest residents—” he indicated the Dockers “—I’d like to—”

“Excuse me, Mark.” Destiny slid off her stool. “The Dockers aren’t residents yet. They have to move here first.”

“Building permits take time. Let’s not get bogged down in the details,
Destiny.
”

“Where are they building a house?” Enrick asked.

Mitchell’s smile grew strained. “They haven’t decided on a location yet.”

“They can’t build next to me and Ralph, because I use that lot for a garden,” Sonja said.

“They’re not moving in behind the motel,” Mitchell said.