Trouble in Texas (14 page)

Elizabeth’s eyes widened behind her glasses. “We? But why would you want to buy a
rundown old house? What are you planning on doing with it?”

Brant lifted his eyebrows, and Elizabeth’s face flamed bright red. But it was Ms.
Connors who spoke.

“Why, Mr. Cates, you don’t mean to tell me that you’re starting up a brothel?”

“Now that would be illegal, wouldn’t it, Ms. Connors?” he said.

“Please call me Elena.”

He dipped his head. “Brant.”

She shot him a seductive look, one filled with an open invitation. “So what
are
you going to do with it, Brant?”

“I think it’s best to keep everyone guessing.” He accepted the cup of coffee Baby
handed him and took a
sip. Damn, it was better than Starbucks. Too bad he only got to take one more sip
before Elizabeth snagged his arm.

“Do you think I could talk with you for a moment in private, Mr. Cates?” she said
through her teeth.

He set his cup of coffee on the counter. “Please call me Brant.”

“Brant,” she gritted out before pulling him from the kitchen. He really wished she
had chosen a different room to take him to. The library got him thinking about things
he had no business thinking about. She must’ve had the same thoughts because she stopped
suddenly and whirled around, looking a little like a caged animal.

He had to hand it to her. She recovered quickly.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

Brant walked over to the bookcase and examined the titles. “I’m buying your house.”

“Why?”

“That’s not any of your concern as long as I give you your asking price.” He pulled
down a copy of
East of Eden
and turned it to the title page. His jaw dropped when he saw the inscription from
the author to a Miss Lily Ladue. He reverently closed the book and carefully placed
it back on the shelf. “What is your asking price, anyway?”

The number she gave him was fair, even considering the condition of the house. His
gaze swept the room. Now that Beau had put the idea of restoring the house in his
head, Brant couldn’t help imagining how the library would look restored. The shelves
sanded and stained a deep mahogany. The chair reupholstered in rich leather. Tiffany
lamps scattered around and a soft-cushioned couch in front of the fireplace.

How that fit into his brother’s vision he didn’t know.
Nor did he care. This would be his room when he came to visit, a place where he could
read and not be bothered by work.

The thought surprised him. Work had been his salvation since the tornado. But suddenly,
he realized he hadn’t checked his cell phone and e-mails once while he’d been here.
And the more surprising part was he hadn’t even missed it. Maybe his mother was right.
Maybe he needed some time off from work.

“I’ll double the price,” he stated.

“Excuse me?”

He turned to Elizabeth. “I’m willing to double your asking price.”

Her mouth dropped open for a brief second before it snapped back closed. Her eyes
narrowed. “With what stipulation?”

His laughter seemed to take them both by surprise. Brant stopped suddenly, and Elizabeth
stared at him as if he were some strange reptile that had crawled in the door uninvited.
He didn’t waste any time covering his uncharacteristic reaction.

“With the stipulation that I keep everything in the house, including Miss Hattie’s
bed.”

“And the hens?” Minnie rolled into the room with cigarette dangling. Brant took one
look at the smoke that curled around her head and strode across the room to take the
cigarette from her mouth.

“I’m not buying the hens,” Brant said, tossing the cigarette in the brass spittoon
that sat by the door.

“Well, that’s too bad.” Minnie lifted her chin. “Because Beau already said we could
stay.”

Beau strutted into the room with a cup of coffee in one
hand and a delicious-looking cinnamon roll in the other. For being hungover, it sure
looked as if he hadn’t lost his appetite. He took a big bite of the bun and rolled
his eyes in ecstasy.

“Only if that includes Baby. These are the best cinnamon rolls I’ve ever eaten.” He
held it out for Brant to take a bite, but Brant only glared at him. “Oh, come on,
big bro. The old gals will just add color when we reopen. The guests will eat Minnie’s
stories up with a spoon.”

It wasn’t like Brant had much of a choice. Beau wanted the house, and it was obvious
that the ladies weren’t leaving it. Besides, how much trouble could three little old
women be?

“Fine,” he said. “They can stay, but on one condition.” He pointed a finger at Minnie.
“No more smoking. I won’t have all these classic books damaged any more than they
already are.”

Minnie opened her mouth to argue, but Beau winked at her and whispered for all to
hear. “I’m planning a cigar room.”

Minnie cackled with glee as she rolled out of the room, followed by Beau.

When they were gone, Brant turned to Elizabeth. “So is it a deal?”

He expected a fight. Instead, while he’d been bickering with Minnie, it seemed that
Elizabeth had resigned herself to the idea. Her gaze swept over to the doorway before
it returned to Brant. A smile brightened her face. It was the first time one of her
smiles had been directed at him, and it did something funny to his equilibrium.

“Deal,” she said as she held out a hand.

He made the mistake of taking it. While most women’s
hands were cool to the touch, Elizabeth’s hand surrounded him like an electric blanket
on a wintry night. He was surprised at how chilled he felt when she pulled away.

“I’d like to ask for one thing,” she said. When he lifted his eyebrows, she continued.
“I’d like you to forget my relationship with Miss Hattie Ladue.”

Brant nodded, but as he stared into those amber eyes, he realized that forgetting
might be a promise he couldn’t keep.

“W
ELL, MORNIN
’, M
S
. M
URPHY
,” Rachel Dean called as Elizabeth stepped inside Josephine’s Diner. Before Elizabeth
could lift a hand in greeting, half the men in the restaurant jumped up and headed
for the door.

It was a phenomenon that had taken place often in the last week. Single men would
take one look at Elizabeth and head for the hills. It all had to do with Shirlene’s
bouquet. It seemed that there wasn’t a man in Bramble who wanted to get hitched up
to an old maid. Which suited the old maid just fine. However, it didn’t suit the more
stubborn matchmakers in town.

“The men in this town are really startin’ to annoy me.” Twyla’s eyes narrowed at the
front windows. Kenny Gene strutted down the street looking as happy as a puppy off
his leash. “If he thinks he’s gettin’ away from me, he’s got another think comin’,”
she mumbled under her breath before looking back at Elizabeth. “Don’t you worry, Ms.
Murphy. My second cousin, Barney, who lives in Big Springs, is comin’ out for a visit
next week, and he’s been shoppin’ for a wife ever since his last one ran off with
that
carnival guy who guesses your weight. The carnie was under by twenty pounds, and that
was all it took to win Edna’s heart.”

“Ms. Murphy ain’t interested in some old rodeo clown,” Rachel said as she followed
Elizabeth to her usual booth. “Not when she’s got her eye set on Beauregard Cates.”
She winked as she set down a cup of tea in front of Elizabeth.

“But there is no way in hell—” Cindy Lynn piped up, but Rachel cut her off with a
stern look.

“Be quiet, Cindy, and eat your eggs before they get cold.”

Elizabeth was touched that Rachel was willing to defend her, but she couldn’t let
the craziness continue. “Actually, Rachel, Cindy’s right. Beau isn’t interested in
me. Which works out nicely because I’m not interested in him.”

Rachel looked mind-boggled. “You ain’t? Why, that man is hotter than jalapeño pepper
sauce on a chile relleno.”

“No hotter than Shirlene’s husband Bubba,” Twyla sighed. “And did you see the youngest
brother, Beckett? Lordy,” she fanned her face with a menu, “them Cates produce better
genes than Wrangler. Sorta makes you wonder what the oldest one looks like.”

At just the mention of Brant, Elizabeth felt her face heat up. Along with a spot much
lower.

“A snake.” Rachel Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Because no one but a lowdown, dirty snake
would want to buy Dalton Oil just so they could close it down and ruin Bramble.”

“But wasn’t Bubba in on that, too?” Darla was sitting on a stool at the counter, knitting
the longest scarf Elizabeth
had ever seen. “I thought that’s why the sheriff threw him in jail.”

“Exactly,” Rachel said. “Bubba paid his due for his crime. Not only did he spend time
in jail, but he almost lost Shirlene.” She shook her head. “Purt near broke my heart
when he was apologizin’ for what he did. The oldest one, on the other hand, doesn’t
seem a bit sorry. He didn’t even have the guts to show up for his brother’s weddin’.”

“Rachel’s right,” Twyla jumped in. “Kenny Gene told me that if the man steps one foot
in Bramble he’ll find himself tarred and feathered and run out of town on a rail.”

Most people would assume that Twyla was exaggerating. That in this day and age, no
one would actually tar and feather another human being. But after living in the town
for fifteen years, Elizabeth knew better. If Brant stepped foot in town, she didn’t
doubt for a second that he’d find himself wearing more feathers than Sunshine during
her fan dance.

Elizabeth smiled. She didn’t want anyone hurt, but Brant could use a good dose of
humility. And the town was right; he did owe them an apology. But knowing what she
did about the man, she figured it would be a cold day in hell before they would get
one.

The bell over the door jingled as the twins, Hope Lomax and Faith Calhoun, entered
with their babies, Daffodil and Daisy, hooked on their hips. Hope was busy talking
to the mayor who followed closely behind them. It was common knowledge that when Mayor
Sutter retired, Hope would take over his spot. She was always coming up with one project
or another to better the town and had set up a website to attract more businesses
to Bramble.

The women clustered around Hope and Faith, vying for turns to hold the babies who
looked as identical as their mothers. In the midst of the coos and ahhs, Faith glanced
up and saw Elizabeth. She quickly handed off Daisy to Rachel and hurried over.

Since Faith had moved to Bramble, she and Elizabeth had become friends. Not only did
they share a passion for books, but Elizabeth was helping Faith with online classes
she was taking to get her teaching certificate.

“I was hoping I’d run into you,” she said as she slipped into the seat across from
Elizabeth. “I wanted to ask you about the grant for the new computer section in the
library. Have you heard anything?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I haven’t heard a thing, but they said it could take up
to six weeks. I certainly appreciate you helping me put it together.”

“After all the help you’ve given me with my homework, it was nothing.” Faith looked
down and fiddled with the salt and pepper shakers. “I was also going to ask you if
you’d like to come to dinner tomorrow night.” She paused. “I thought I’d invite Slate’s
assistant football coach, Travis.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Not you, too?”

Faith looked up and grinned. “So you didn’t mean to catch the bouquet? And here I
thought I’d been a horrible friend because I didn’t know you wanted to get married.”

Hope slipped into the seat next to her sister. “I tried to tell her that nobody in
their right mind would want to be on the receiving end of Bramble’s matchmaking, but
she wouldn’t listen.”

The similarities between the two women always left Elizabeth a little speechless.
It was like looking at mirror
images. Of course, it didn’t hurt that they wore almost identical clothing—something
Faith had told her was more accidental than planned.

“But it’s too late now,” Hope continued. “Once the town gets something in their head,
it’s hard to get it out. And believe me, I know.”

Faith laughed, and Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile at just the thought of the “Daddy
Search” that had taken place when the townsfolk had thought that Hope had been impregnated
by some Hollywood loser. Fortunately, things had all worked out, and Daffodil had
gotten the perfect daddy.

“So I hear that Colt’s custom motorcycle shop will be opened by the first of the year,”
Elizabeth said.

“That’s what we’re hoping.” Hope took one of the triangles of wheat toast Rachel had
just delivered to the table. “Colt has been working his butt off to get things completed.
So much so, that I’m starting to feel like a single parent.” She munched on the toast.
“I think he’s still a little worried that C-Corp will close down Dalton Oil. Especially
since the president is a real butthole.”

“Now, Hope,” Faith spoke in her usual soft voice, “let’s not jump to conclusions.
I think there’s probably a very good reason for his bad behavior. I told you what
Billy told Slate about his brother’s wife and son.”

Elizabeth choked on the sip of tea she’d just taken, and it took a couple rib-jarring
back smacks from Hope before she could catch her breath.

“Brant is married?” she wheezed out.

“Brant?” Hope exchanged a look with Faith.

Elizabeth couldn’t hide her blush or her flustered reaction. “Uhh, I mean, Mr. Cates.”
She clutched her shaking
hands together as images flashed through her mind of all the kisses she’d shared with
Brant. “So he has a wife and son? I thought he was single.”

“He is single,” Faith said, causing Elizabeth’s body to melt back against the booth.
“Slate said Billy wouldn’t go into details, but I guess he lost both his wife and
son in some sort of accident.”

“Well, that still isn’t an excuse for wanting to shut down Dalton Oil and put a bunch
of good people out of work,” Hope said.