Tyler (5 page)

Dylan nodded at their brother and said, “That’s his story and he’s sticking to it.”

Jesse reached across the table to grab at Dylan, but Dylan gave him a brotherly shove, pushing him back in his chair. Tyler shook his head at their usual morning routine. One out of the three of them usually woke up in a bad mood and took it out on the other two. Good thing they didn’t do it all at the same time, or they’d never get anything done.

“You’re always welcome, Lori.” He slid his chair away from the table and got to his feet. “The cooking is definitely a bonus.”

“If y’all are finished, I’ll just clean up.” Picking up empty plates and stacking them with the silverware piled on top, she set them in the sink to rinse before loading the dishwasher.

Not used to having someone serve them with a smile—heck, his brothers would have just as soon punched him good morning as hand him a mug of hot coffee—Tyler handed her his empty mug and said, “Thanks for breakfast. Tastes better when you don’t have to cook it too.”

She didn’t turn around when she answered him. “My pleasure, Tyler.”

Dylan grabbed him by the arm and tugged him toward the back door. “We’re burning daylight, bro.”

He noticed that their younger brother took his time leaving their blue-eyed cook. The door slammed behind them, but Tyler was too focused on getting through the morning without falling down to bother picking a fight with the youngest Garahan—a sure sign he was not himself this morning. He’d make up for it and razz Jesse later.

Outside, Tyler asked, “Do you think he’s serious about Lori?”

Dylan shrugged. “Don’t know. Might be.”

“I heard there was a lot of kicking and screaming before the ink was dry on her divorce decree.”

Dylan shook his head. “Man, and all of it wasted on that pisspoor excuse for an ex-husband of hers.”

They walked into the barn, gathered what they needed, and saddled their horses. Tyler’s first chore of the day was to ride fences with his brother and repair any breaches so none of their cattle would wander off their ranch. The routine chore would let him work up a sweat and forget about money and a certain redhead with whiskey-colored eyes for a while.

***

The sun soaked into his aching bones. Maybe he should have washed down a couple of aspirin with that second cup of coffee and taken the time to stretch out the kinked muscles low in his spine.

“Ty?”

Jerking back to attention when Dylan called his name, he put his back into it, lifted the fallen post, and steadied it while his brother fastened the wire. Tucking the wire cutters into his back pocket, Dylan pushed his hat to the back of his head, probably hoping to grill him some more about his new job.

“So what’s the owner like?”

“Short.”

Dylan’s snort of laughter had Tyler grinning as he swung up into the saddle.

“Must be tough on him, having bouncers taller than he is.”

Tyler squeezed his thighs against his mount. Recognizing the signal, his horse started walking. “I didn’t exactly say my boss was a he.”

About to swing up into the saddle, Dylan paused, and his head whipped around. “Your new boss is a woman?”

“With a capital W.” The words slipped out before Tyler had a chance to think about what he was saying. He hoped Dylan wouldn’t try to pick his brain the rest of the ride back to the ranch house. He didn’t have much left and would need it to be on his toes come time to drive into town and show up for work.

“Damn,” his brother muttered after a few miles of riding alongside him in silence. “She’s gotta be a redhead.”

It wasn’t a secret the Garahan men were partial to redheads. He frowned, wondering just how much to tell his brother. He’d never done anything he was too ashamed to tell his brothers about before. It wasn’t that he’d never been naked in front of a female before. Hell, he’d been fourteen and horny as a bull with a three-day hard-on when Jenny’d met him out by the pond one sultry summer night.

God, she’d been so hot and wet…

“Tyler!”

“What?” The image of the blue-eyed blonde with bounteous breasts faded as the irritated face of his younger brother came fully into focus.

“I asked you how many cases and kegs you had to haul last night?”

Should he fess up? “Not that many.” And hell if that wasn’t the truth.
None wasn’t all that many
.

“So it’s just the hours then,” Dylan said, bringing his horse up alongside Tyler’s.

He nodded. He supposed the hours had something to do with his mood. Lying was getting a whole lot easier.
Should he be worried about that?

“Jesse and I don’t want you to think we aren’t going to pull more weight around the ranch while you’re working nights, earning the rest of the feed bill and mortgage payment.”

Tyler noticed the lines of strain around his brother’s eyes and the grim set of his jaw. Dylan looked as if he wanted to go three rounds and then some. Tyler had a pretty good idea who his brother would start with. “It isn’t Mike’s fault the bank called in our loan.”

Dylan’s jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed.

Bulls-eye.

“Yeah, well he’s the one—” Dylan began only to be interrupted by Tyler.

“The one who fought to have the mortgage extended three times,” Tyler ground out. If anyone had tried to help the Garahan brothers save the Circle G, it was their childhood friend Mike Baker. Too bad he was a blood relative of Tyler’s former girlfriend, Linda Lee.

“Lot of good it did us.”

“He bought us three months,” Tyler grumbled.

“And look where it got us,” Dylan bit out.

Tyler nudged his mount forward. They had two more sections of fence to ride before heading in for a break. “We didn’t lose the ranch,” Tyler said. “And if I’m going to be taking—”

Shit!
He’d almost spilled his guts. Damn this tired; if he wasn’t careful, he was liable to tell Dylan everything that happened since he left the house yesterday afternoon.

“Taking what?” Dylan demanded, eyes narrowed, mouth grim.

Thinking fast, Tyler improvised. “Taking a beating during the day at the ranch and orders from a little bit of a woman and her redheaded cousin at night. So stop riding my case about it.”

Dylan’s expression went from grim to gray. One thing about the men in the Garahan family: they’d work until they bled, but taking orders from a woman, well that was a whole other story and probably the reason there’d been so many crusty old bachelors in their family.

“You’re right,” his brother agreed. “Sorry.”

Tyler swallowed against the lump of lies lodged in his throat. If he could remember to keep quiet about what he was doing at The Lucky Star to earn his pay, no one would be the wiser.

“It’ll be close,” Emily said, adding the next set of numbers into the calculator, “but I think we’ll have enough to pay the taxes, liquor supplier, and chip away at the mortgage.”

Jolene paced in front of the upstairs kitchen table, their makeshift office while they renovated one of the storerooms downstairs. “Maybe we should have waited another month before buying this place.”

“You know that we’d have lost out; there were three other bids for this place.” Emily shut her eyes, grateful for the moment’s rest. She’d had precious few hours of sleep last night thanks to one tall, dark, and deadly handsome cowboy’s tender kisses.

“A penny for your thoughts, cuz.” Jolene leaned her hip against the counter and crossed her legs in front of her. The smug smile told Em she didn’t need to explain why she was tired. Jolene always could read her like a book.

“Wondering where we would have ended up working if you didn’t convince us this place would be a gold mine.”

“Well, I may have been a bit hasty,” Jolene said softly.

“I’m always first to give credit where credit is due, honey,” Emily said, pushing her chair back to stand up. She stretched the kinks out of her spine and walked over to where her cousin stood. “Your idea was inspired, the location fabulous, and our new headliner… to die for.”

“And?” Jolene was waiting for Emily to spill her guts. Damn, the woman really did have the ability to read minds.

“He’s got this really rough but handsome exterior, but inside he’s got this sugar-sweet, gooey center that a woman would have to be dead not to fall for.”

“Are you falling for him already?” Jolene didn’t try to hide her exasperation.

“Maybe, but this time, I’ll be ready when he walks.”

“What makes you think he’ll walk?”

Emily didn’t know that he would; it was just a part of the pattern of her past relationships. “He might surprise me and stay.”

“Way to go thinking in the positive, Em.”

“The past has always been—”

“Among my favorite interests,” Frank Emerson, President of the Pleasure Preservation Society, boomed from where he stood in the doorway.

Annoyed that he’d come upstairs uninvited, Emily walked toward him. “I don’t believe we heard you knock.”

His smile was just a shade off and definitely not sincere. “I’m sure you two were talking too loudly to hear me when I knocked just now.”

Liar. Emily knew he hadn’t; the man had a habit of walking in unannounced to catch his prey off guard while he went in for the kill, usually walking away with whatever he wanted. “I don’t suppose you can read?”

His eyes narrowed before he acknowledged what she’d meant. “Surely the sign that says
private
on the door at the bottom of these stairs doesn’t refer to your fellow businessmen and women in town?”

Jolene cleared her throat, and Emily knew she was about to say something that would make her and Emily feel better but would just alienate the head of the damned society. Emily sent a warning look that Jolene grudgingly heeded. “What do you want, Frank?”

He took his time answering, while glancing about their kitchen, no doubt taking it all in so he could file it in his damned report on the one historic building in Pleasure he hadn’t been able to get his hands on. “I’d hope to get you two ladies to change your mind and join in our campaign to bring tourism back to Pleasure.”

Jolene mumbled something beneath her breath, which Emily was grateful couldn’t be heard across the room where she and Frank were standing. She smiled and said, “We’d like to think we’re doing our small part here on Loblolly Way, Frank.”

His eyes narrowed again. Not a good sign. “Nevertheless, we need business owners like yourselves to donate to the cause and help us keep history alive in Pleasure.”

Jolene actually laughed and Emily wished she hadn’t. “Why, my dear Mr. Emerson,” Jolene began, “I do believe we’re doing just that. Wasn’t it the Donovan sisters who founded our fair town?”

He nodded.

“And weren’t those dear women the same Donovan sisters who opened the town’s first bawdy house?”

His jaw clenched and Emily could swear she heard the sound of teeth grinding.

“Be that as it may,” he said, “we at the Preservation Society have a vision for the town and it—”

“Doesn’t match ours,” Jolene purred. “So while we appreciate you coming all the way over here, we’re not ready to make that donation just yet.”

When he stood there staring at Jolene, Emily took his arm and turned him around so he was facing the hallway that led to the stairs. “We’ll be in touch when we’re ready to write that check. Y’all have a great day.”

“But—”

“Emily will walk you downstairs, Frank, in case you’ve forgotten the way out.”

Emily wished Jolene would escort Frank out of their place but knew that would only end in disaster. Jolene couldn’t keep her mouth shut around a royal pain in the ass like Frank. “It’s right this way.” He grudgingly followed behind her.

By the time they’d reached the bottom step, she could hear voices. “Now who do you suppose that could that be?”

Frank actually smiled… a real smile. “Ah, I’ve asked my colleagues, Anne Marie Gonzales, President of Pleasure’s Women’s Club, and Janet Gorman, President of the Rotary Club, to meet me here.”

Emily groaned aloud. “And you did that because?”

“My dear Ms. Langley, nonprofit organizations such as ours depend upon the generosity of those who have lucrative businesses to make donations that will keep our coffers filled, so that we can continue to do our good works.”

He turned and smiled, hand extended toward the blonde. “Janet, good of you to join us.” Turning toward the black-haired woman, his smile broadened. “Anne Marie, I knew I could count on you.”

The women stared openly at Emily. Lord, she wasn’t ready to face the three of them, especially alone. It was one thing to have to deal with Frank, but these two uptight, bitchy women would just put a crimp in her day. She walked over to the door she’d left open and hollered up the stairs. “Jolene!”

When her cousin answered, she called out, “We got us some visitors, come on down.”

She had the satisfaction of seeing the twin looks of disbelief on the ladies’ faces that neither one had been quick enough to hide when she’d shouted for her cousin. She knew they didn’t like her and Jolene, and it was no secret the women didn’t think she or her cousin were ladylike, but she didn’t really care. She’d met their type before. All showy and good intentions on the outside, but that did not match the vinegary center that made them miserable to have to deal with.

Jolene rushed through the door and, before Emily could warn her, made a face. “Well, well,” she drawled. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“Be nice, Jolene,” Emily urged.

“Maybe,” Jolene whispered. “Depends on what these two want,” she said out loud.

Affronted, the women looked at one another, and Anne Marie drew in a deep breath, threatening to burst the pearl buttons on her cashmere sweater set before launching into a boring monologue about the history of their town and how donations to their clubs would be the only way their organizations would be able to preserve the finest aspects of their town.

“That’s all well and good, Anne Marie,” Jolene said quietly, “but what exactly do you intend to do with the funds we turn over to you?”

Stumped, the woman looked helplessly at Janet.

Jolene turned toward her as well. “Janet? How do you intend to spend the donation I may give to the Rotary Club?”

“Well I’d definitely start with… that is to say, possibly I’d…”

Jolene sighed. “Just as I thought: neither one of you has a fiscal plan as to what you intend to do with any funds received from tax-paying businesswomen like myself and my cousin.”

After grinning at Emily, Jolene added, “Perhaps another time. Y’all know the way out?”

With that she turned her back on the group and started to walk away.

“I’d think very carefully about your decision, Ms. Langley,” Frank Emerson said slowly. “I’d hate to see your establishment lose money due to lack of business.”

Jolene smiled. “We’re doing just fine bringing in the crowds. Goodbye, Frank.”

She turned to leave again and this time Anne Marie stopped her. “I, for one, have been meaning to bring up the topic of your establishment at our next meeting. The good people of Pleasure shouldn’t have to drive past such a den of iniquity as this on their way to the feed store and center of town.”

Jolene’s jaw clenched, and Emily recognized the sign as the point of no return with her cousin’s temper.

“I know exactly what you mean, Anne Marie,” Janet simpered. “The good folks of this town should know about what goes on in a place like this.”

Jolene actually smiled at that. “Why, Janet honey, wasn’t that you I saw sidling up to Dave and Joe after they’d finished the finale last week Thursday? Surely you reported back to your club all about it. Especially the lap dance.”

Janet paled, not a good look with the black pantsuit she always wore when conducting official Rotarian business.

“You’ve not seen the last of us,” Anne Marie warned.

“Promises, promises.” Jolene grinned at Emily and tugged on her hand. “Don’t all y’all let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya.”

“Jolene,” Emily rasped. But her cousin’s comment was enough to have the trio drawing in a collective breath and leaving.

“Finally,” Emily said as the phone rang. “I’ll get it.”

Jolene shook her head and reached it first. “Jolene here.”

The expression on her cousin’s face changed radically. The humor was replaced with a hint of fear and a whole lot of temper. Jolene opened her mouth to speak, then changed her mind, and disconnected without saying a word.

“Who was it?” Emily demanded.

“Damned if I know.”

“What did they want?”

“Money.”

“Jeez, Jolene,” Emily said, walking to where her cousin stood by the bar. “Was it one of Frank’s vice presidents?”

Jolene shook her head. “I’m not sure who it was, but he’s called here once before… you remember that first day we were open for business and Jake Turner walked in?”

Emily smiled at that. “Ah yes, the gorgeous, clipboard-carrying fire marshal.”

Jolene frowned at her. “Well, whoever it is called then too, asking for the same thing.”

“Money,” Emily said.

“Right.”

“How much?”

Jolene shrugged. “Five thousand.”

“Dollars?” Emily had trouble conceiving of such an amount in cash. “When did they want it by?”

“Actually, I never really found out. I hung up before he could tell me when he wants the money.”

“Aren’t you worried that someone is trying to extort money from us?”

Jolene grinned. “Not especially, since we’ve already got the buzzards circling overhead, waiting for us to slip up so we end up donating to their damned clubs.”

“But, Jo,” Emily said, “this is different. Shouldn’t we call the sheriff’s office?”

“And tell them what, that the Preservation Society ganged up with the Rotary Club and the Woman’s Club, and are harassing us for money?”

“No,” Emily wrapped her arms around herself trying to keep the warmth from escaping. “That someone is threatening you for money.”

“Oh that.”

“Yeah,” Emily agreed. “That.”

“But I told you I never find out when he wants the money or what he’ll do if I don’t pay… I hang up first.”

“Jo, honey?”

Surprised at the subtle change in Emily’s tone, her cousin paused. “Yeah?”

“Did Aunt Susan drop you on your head when you were a baby?”

Jolene laughed out loud. “Shut up, Em.”

“Must have been more than once to have such a lasting effect on your poor injured brain like this.”

“Bite me, Em.”

“No thanks, Jolene.”

“Good thing I love you.”

“Back at you, cuz.”

***

A few hours later, Emily grinned at Natalie, grateful for the distraction from their earlier visitors and the worrisome phone call. “It’s definitely a new look for us. Whose idea was it to dress up like bad news cowgirls?”

Jennifer’s face lit up. “It was my idea,” she said. “Don’t you just love the wine-red boots?”

Emily shook her head. “You know I really love the black pair I always wear.”

Natalie smiled and patted Emily’s arm. “We know, honey, but I think Jennifer’s right about the overall look. All of us dressed alike is bound to make a statement, and people will know who we are.”

“Hell’s bells, Nat, they already know who we are.”

“But not the droves of new customers who’ll be bound to find their way to our door after Tyler’s debut last night.”

Emily smiled in spite of herself. Heaven help her, the man had certainly made an impression on her… and every other woman in their club last night. “Word of mouth has worked for us so far.” She looked over at her friends and nodded. “The black leather bustier is a definite plus. I’m so glad Ronnie was able to get them on short notice.” She skimmed her hands from the bottom edge to up beneath her breasts. “It feels real good. How cool is it that Ronnie’s shop, Guilty Pleasures, could get the special order for us in time for tonight? A little chilly on the chest though.” She shivered and her breasts threatened to spill out over the top. Emily made a mental note to be careful or else she’d get arrested for showing more than just her cleavage.

“Once the evening crowd pours in, it’ll warm up considerably,” Natalie reassured her. With a glance to her left and then her right, Natalie laughed and said, “Damn, we look fine. We so owe Ronnie!”

The three women twirled in front of the mirrored wall in the hallway, checking themselves and each other out.

Emily hesitated. “I’m still not sure about dressing alike.”

“Come on, Em.” Jennifer reached out to grab Emily’s hand. “Try it this once,” she urged. “If you were working in another club, odds are you’d be wearing black slacks and a white button-down shirt.” She paused for effect. “Isn’t this black leather so much cooler?”

Emily laughed. “All right, Jen. But tomorrow, I’m wearing my favorite boots.”

“Only if you polish them,” Jennifer retorted.