The Counterfeit Cowgirl (4 page)

Instead, he had let Deborah talk him out of it, and now look at the result.

Felicity put her fists on her hips. “Pardon me for meddling in what obviously isn’t my business, but you can’t allow those children to live in fear like this.”

He knew Felicity was right, but his need to protect Deborah was too strong. He hadn’t insisted when Deborah begged him to say nothing to the boys about uprooting them from their home.

“Miss Clayton, my dealings with my nephews are not your concern,” Aaron said, through clenched teeth. “As you pointed out, this situation is none of your business.”

“Really?” Felicity inquired brightly. “In that case, I’d better go speak to your sister about the matter myself. And present her with a bill for the housecleaning fees.”

She was deliberately provoking him, Aaron realized. For some reason, that put heart into him.

Felicity smiled sweetly and heaped fuel onto the burning fire within him. “If there’s one thing I can spot a mile away, it’s a tendency to be overprotective.”

“You have a lot of nerve, you phony cowgirl,” Aaron exploded. “You never paid one bit of attention to your grandmother while she was alive, but the minute she dies, you swoop in like a vulture to take what few pennies she had.”

“If that’s what you think, it’s no wonder your nephews are having such problems,” Felicity tossed back. “You’d believe anything anyone told you, no matter how nutty it was.”

Aaron suppressed a twinge of caution. To be fair, Lureen was a real nutcase, what with her ridiculous political opinions and the signs she made and posted in front of her house or carried in front of businesses — but she’d been harmless.

“I checked on the deed to this house myself,” he snapped, infuriated that he’d let Felicity’s comment get to him. “It was in your name.”

“Is that right?” Her small smile riled him further. “It’s a pity you didn’t check on a few other things while you were at it.”

“Like what?” Aaron roared. It felt wonderful to rip into a worthy opponent at last. “The only thing I’d have found out is how much money you were lifting from that poor old lady’s bank account.”

“Or how much I was putting in?” Felicity asked, marvelously unaffected. “Do you know what your trouble is? You’ve jumped to a conclusion based on some half-baked facts, and now you’re trying to scare me into agreeing with you. I have just one question: What do you do when you find out you’re dead wrong?”

“I’ve never been wrong.”

Aaron couldn’t believe he heard himself shout such an enormous untruth. That just went to show how unaccustomed he was to giving way like this.

“Oh, brother.” Felicity crossed her arms across her breasts and tilted her chin at a challenging angle. “Well, you may have scared everyone else around here into believing that whopper, but I’m immune to your scintillating charm.”

“I’m not wrong about what you did to that poor old lady. You’re a buzzard of the worst sort, cowgirl. A man would have to be a condor to deal with the likes of you.”

Felicity’s silver-banded teeth flashed at him in a grin of genuine amusement. “In that case, you’re in serious trouble, because you aren’t a condor. You’re a cardinal.”

“A what?” He reeled mentally, more off-balance than he’d ever been in dealing with a woman.

“The male cardinal is a very family-oriented bird,” she informed him. “He often feeds other nests of baby birds besides his own.” She nodded briskly in the face of his open-mouthed stare. “If ever I saw a human male who resembles a male cardinal, you’re the one.”

Aaron boiled with emotion. Chief among the mix of feelings was the certainty that this woman had seen straight through him and knew exactly what sort of man he was in spite of the tough outer shell he so carefully cultivated.

“If ever I saw a female buzzard, you’re it. Let’s get this over with, cowgirl. I haven’t got all day.”

“Sure you have,” Felicity taunted. “That’s what your problem is. You’ve got all day for anyone who needs you.”

Once more Aaron had the uncomfortable sensation that he’d been seen through. “You know all about it, I’m sure.” He abandoned the fiery rage for icy precision.

“As a matter of fact, I do. All my life I’ve suffered from an overprotective caretaker. Believe me, I know one when I see one.” She smiled, and Aaron’s gaze focused on her lips as they parted to reveal the silver bands on her teeth.

“Your vision wouldn’t be obstructed, would it?” He scowled at her in the way that made his employees quake in their cowboy boots.

He wondered what the braces would feel like beneath the softness of her lips if he were to kiss her. The thought increased the intensity of his frown.

Felicity wasn’t noticeably impressed by the famous Whitaker scowl.

“My optometrist says I’ve got perfect vision,” she assured him. “As for my woodwork, don’t worry your head, Mr. Whitaker. I’m counting on soap and water to take care of the problem.”

“Nevertheless, I’d better see my nephews’ damages for myself,” Aaron said.

He couldn’t help the surge of pleasure he felt at her total unconcern. These days, there were only a few people in town who didn’t fear him.

Felicity looked at him thoughtfully. “I don’t think I want you in my house. You might take it into your head that I need protecting from a mouse or something.”

“The only thing you’ll need protection from in Mrs. Tucker’s house is a cockroach,” Aaron said silkily. “Let’s go, Miss Clayton. I need to get back.”

“Ah, yes. The big barbecue. Your nephews are convinced the ghost will snatch them bodily out of the crowd. Maybe you should hire a special ghost-busting bodyguard.”

“Someone such as yourself, Miss Clayton?”

Felicity tossed him a glance of contempt. “I’ve already done my part with the garlic necklaces. Excuse me, please. I’d better tackle that glue while it’s still in a liquid state. Get lost, Mr. Whitaker.”

She turned and marched through the tall grass toward her house, outrage in every line of her slim body. When his boots clattered on the wooden porch behind her, she whirled to confront him.

“I said get lost, Mr. Whitaker.”

“I said I was coming in to assess the damages, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Aaron gave her the stare that never failed to make secretaries hop and car salesmen quail.

“Well, I don’t want you to. Now buzz off before I call the sheriff and tell him you’re harassing me.” She wrestled in vain with the doorknob. “Great. Now the lock has decided to work.”

“Here,” he said. “Allow me. Mrs. Tucker showed me the intricacies of this excuse for a lock some time ago.”

He took the doorknob, rattled it expertly, and pounded the exact center of the door. It flew open.

“Unfortunately, someone had written a check that drew down her account and the landlord refused to pay for a locksmith.” Aaron went on. “She was left with only twenty dollars left to live on until her next check came in.”

“Is that right?”

“Have you always considered your grandmother’s bank account yours to draw on, cowgirl?”

“What difference does it make to you?” She led the way inside. “They put glue in the keyhole, too. According to Pete, the living room is too full of cracks. That’s why they opted to hide in the bedroom. It impressed them as being a little more snug.”

The telephone shrilled.

“The bedroom is to the right down this hall. Go ahead and assess the damages while I catch that.” She stalked to the kitchen and picked up the receiver. “Yes, Mama?”

She glanced up irritably when Aaron, curious, followed her to the kitchen. He looked around and pretended to be studying the mess.

“No, Mama, I haven’t had time to look for them. Listen, I can’t talk now. I have the exterminator here. Yes, I’ll look through every single magazine if I have to. If they’re here, I’ll find them. I promise.”

Aaron brushed by her to bend and peer in the junky cabinets, where his two nephews had rummaged in their efforts to arm themselves. Perhaps he ought to live up to her billing and stomp on the big cockroach that ran across the floor.

“What? Of course I’m safe. Why shouldn’t I be? No, Mama. The exterminator is not likely to do me a meanness. He’s a very sweet little man, barely five feet tall. I’ll call you back in a few minutes, okay? I have to get his estimate.”

Aaron bit back a grin. She hadn’t been lying when she said she had an overprotective relative. How she managed to escape her mother to travel to Foxe, he had no idea.

Aaron discovered an old plastic radio buried beneath the political magazines on the kitchen counter and switched it on. The sound of Becky Lozano’s clear voice singing her recent hit filled the small room: “ … protectin’ my baby from that adventuresome spirit … ”

Felicity winced.

Aaron switched off the radio. “What an exciting life you must lead. For your mother to worry this much about you … ” His voice trailed off suggestively.

“Come this way, Mr. Whitaker. I’ve got better things to do than entertain you.”

“Things like looking for the keys to that old lady’s safe deposit box?” He followed her back to the living room.

“If she has one, it’ll sure take some searching to find the keys,” Felicity said. “As you can see, my grandmother was something of a pack rat.”

“Better that than other things she might have been.” Aaron paused a moment for emphasis. “I suppose it’s a case of ‘like mother, like daughter.’”

Felicity glanced back at him, forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. “I don’t think — ”

“According to Mrs. Tucker, you’re just like your mother.”

Her eyes went wide. She turned to stare at him, but any satisfaction he might have felt at hitting the nail on the head was vanquished when Felicity broke into unabashed, full-throated laughter. She collapsed on the sofa, still laughing.

Aaron couldn’t figure it out. “Lady, you
are
a nutcase.”

Felicity nodded in a solemn manner. “What can I say? It’s an inherited condition.”

“Felicity,” Pete called. “Let’s go look at the cow.”

Felicity could think of many things she’d rather look at than a whole, butchered cow turning over a huge bed of red coals. She had never attended a genuine Texas barbecue before, and she would think twice before attending another.

For one thing, the humid evening air was heavier than ever with the odor of mesquite smoke, roasting beef, and the ubiquitous little black bugs. For another, Whitaker Chevrolet had provided entertainment in the form of a country band with a predilection for Becky Lozano songs.

Worse, Felicity could hardly keep her eyes off Whitaker Chevrolet’s CEO. Aaron looked like a cowboy straight out of a western movie — tall, dark, and formidable. He wore a black western shirt bejeweled with silver buttons, and his broad shoulders were decorated with fringe that swung when he moved. His long, muscular legs were encased in black jeans and boots that attracted many feminine glances.

She reminded herself she was here for business purposes, not to admire Aaron’s appearance. She followed Pete and Joey across the lawn, through the milling crowd toward the barbecue pit. Strings of lights hanging overhead gave the evening scene a peculiar daylight quality.

“You’re with Aaron Whitaker, right?” a woman asked. “I just love your outfits. The two of you are dressed just like Roy Rogers and Dale Evans in one of the movies I saw when I was a kid.”

“Actually, I’m a friend of the Sachitano family,” Felicity returned, indicating Pete and Joey. “Felicity Clayton. I’m just visiting for a few weeks. If you like what I’m wearing and ever make it to Nashville, tell the ladies at the Cosmic Cowgirl Boutique you’re a personal friend of mine. Or you can shop the online store at the web address on the card.”

She produced a business card. Who knew when one of the women at the barbecue might travel through Nashville and stop in at the boutique or shop online? That was the only reason she had decided to accept Aaron’s grudging invitation to attend the Whitaker Chevrolet Barbecue, she reminded herself.

After all, who knew how long she’d have to stay in Foxe, Texas, away from the Cosmic Cowgirl? If she could drum up some new customers while she was here, the trip wouldn’t be totally wasted.

Regarding the barbecue as an opportunity to show off her wares, Felicity donned a pair of form-fitting white jeans and a fringed yellow western shirt. Golden, long-horned cattle earrings swung from her ears. Her unruly mass of brown hair had been pulled back and snagged with yellow combs.

Interest in her business ran high; but curiosity over who she was — and whether she was Aaron’s lover — proved higher. Felicity muttered imprecations to herself, but there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

“Welcome, folks, to the annual Whitaker Chevrolet Texas Barbecue,” the master of ceremonies intoned. “Miss Ruthie Fisher will sing in honor of the occasion.”

Ruthie, a buxom blonde, burst into “Telephone Trouble,” — a Becky Lozano song about a long wrangle with the telephone company and the Nashville police department one night when her beloved one’s telephone had been out of order. The song seemed to catalog a woman’s fears about being unable to talk with her lover, but careful attention to the lyrics revealed that the singer was actually trying to call her daughter.

Felicity decided to leave the moment they served the barbecue.

She held the little boys’ hands tightly to keep them from getting too close to the barbecue pit. The roasting beef smelled delicious, but Felicity figured she could do without having an actual plate of the stuff.

“You’re new in town, aren’t you?” a man said, stepping in front of her. “Are you planning on opening a business here?”

Felicity recognized him as the master of ceremonies. Since almost everyone here was somehow related to Whitaker Chevrolet, she pegged him immediately as a car salesman, early forties, and probably newly divorced.

“I’m Grover Madison. You look like a sharp businesswoman,” he said. “Let’s sit down and talk a while.”

“She’s a little young for you, Grover,” Aaron said from behind them. “Why don’t you run along and speak to Mrs. Junker? I understand she’s in the market for a new Chevrolet.”

Felicity bared her brightly-banded teeth at Aaron. “I turned eighteen this morning, Grandpa.”