Angel Smits - A Cowboy At Heart

“I can’t—”

“Gonna make me tell Win on you?” His left eyebrow lifted, and she recognized that he’d stay here all night long and argue. And she wouldn’t win.

“Oh, fine.” She huffed to her car. “But only for tonight.”

“We’ll see.” He waited while she climbed in and closed the door behind her. Walking back to his car, he waited until she started her own vehicle and headed toward the small downtown hotel. He followed close behind.

The Guest House was one of the oldest buildings in Telluride. The two-story building, with an old-fashioned false front and big glass windows all across the street side, was a landmark. Built during the original mining boom back in the 1890s with new mining money, it’d been meant to impress.

And it still did.

She’d always wanted to stay here. Why did she feel like she was taking advantage of a bad situation?

As if she had any choice? Sam sat in his car outside and waited until she walked through the big glass door. Glancing at him and waving, she hoped he investigated crimes in this town with as much tenacity as he used keeping track of her.

She looked around the vast lobby in awe. It had seemed silly to stay here when her grandparents had always had a perfectly good guest room. That guest room was still there—just not an option right now. She shivered at Sam’s earlier warning that the intruder could return and she continued farther inside.

She had to force her feet to keep moving. It was so beautiful. Two huge antique crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings. Light fell in prisms over the old-fashioned wingback chairs and Chippendale couches, and in pools on the lush gray carpet.

Brass handrails edged the steps she descended into the sunken lobby area. But what caught her eye was the staircase. It curved upward, over the heads of diners in the small bar, and continued to create the ceiling over the check-in desk. Gleaming brass rails followed the same curve and nestled in the crease of the carpet on each stair.

It was beautiful. Too pretty to actually use, and too expensive for her to afford, she was sure.

Straight ahead, a tall counter made of dark wood dominated most of the far wall. Two staff members in formal tuxedo-type attire waited for her to step up.

“Oh, hello.” An older woman came out from behind the desk. Her neatly-cropped silver hair bounced, and her eyes smiled behind the dark cat-eye glasses she wore. “You must be Lisa. I’m so sorry to hear about the break-in.”

Sam wasn’t much for keeping secrets.

“Sam told me about Win. I’m sure he’s just off in the hills.” She put an arm around Lisa’s shoulders, comforting and warm. Lisa almost let herself believe the woman’s reassurances.

And she might have if she hadn’t seen that trail of dark blood on her grandfather’s kitchen floor.

“Th-thank you,” she whispered and let the woman lead her to the check-in desk.

Half an hour later, Lisa was settled in a room on the second floor. While the furniture was new and almost modern, the building made it all look antique. Where there had been renovations, the old brick wall was left exposed.

The windows were old, or seemed to be, and thick drapes were pulled back so she could look out. She did that as she sat down on the edge of the bed. What was she supposed to do now?

After a few minutes, she grabbed her phone and checked, just in case she’d missed a call from Grandpa.

Nothing.

No one. Not Trudy. Not Marco. Not Sam. Not her mom, nor her grandfather. She suddenly felt very lost. And alone.

Standing, Lisa made herself break out of her pity party. This was ridiculous. One bad day—okay, a really bad day—did not define her life.

She walked over to the windows, intent on pulling the shades. She might as well try to get some sleep. But as she reached up, she saw a movement in the alley below.

Leaning close enough to feel the cold coming from the glass, she watched a man go to the Dumpster. Curiosity made her lean closer, her forehead bumping the window pane.

Was that Sam? What was he looking for?

He was using a piece of wood to rummage around in the Dumpster. From here, Lisa couldn’t even make out his face, but saw him shake his head. Finally, he stood back and put his hands on his hips, much like he had at Grandpa’s house just a short while ago.

The star on his chest glinted as he moved in and out of the moonlight.

Did Sam’s odd search have anything to do with the break-in at Grandpa’s house? She leaned closer.

After several long minutes, she watched as he threw his hands up in defeat, an all-too-familiar gesture. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. What was he saying?

Slowly, carefully, because she really wasn’t eavesdropping—really—she turned the lock to open the window. Thank God this wasn’t like the hotels in Denver where the windows were sealed.

A cold breeze slipped in between the wood frame as she lifted the window. She heard the echo of Sam’s deep, time-worn voice. “Nah, it ain’t here.” Silence. “I know we told him to throw it away. Doesn’t mean he did,” Sam snapped at the person on the other end of the phone before there was more silence.

What had someone supposedly thrown away? Something relating to Grandpa? Or something else? Surely the break-in wasn’t Sam’s only case.

“I am not climbing into the damned Dumpster for a piece of paper.” Sam turned to leave. “You shoulda made a copy.” The sound of his bootheels was loud, like they had been when he’d been walking around the house, only this time, it was against the stone of the alley instead of ancient wood floors. “Or taken a picture with your phone. You do know how to use it, right?”

The other person must have said something loud as Sam pulled the phone away from his ear. “I heard you. So did half the city. Just calm down, Hap. Don’t worry. We’ll find it. I’ll check with him tomorrow. Maybe by then Win’ll show up and you can ask him !” Finally, Sam let the lid of the container slam down and slowly walked away. The echo of his footsteps faded as he headed down the alley and disappeared into the night.

It did have something to do with her grandfather! Not only had Sam mentioned him by name, but Hap was the third leg of their troublesome trio. Those three always knew each other’s business. Always.

Lisa resisted the urge to run after him but ultimately gave up. What the heck? She pulled open the door, making sure she had her key card before stepping out into the deserted hall and pulling the door closed.

She took the stairs, nearly falling on her face when she hit the bottom too quickly. She slammed the crash bar on the door, the sound exceedingly loud in the night. Immediately, the cold bit into her skin, and she realized she’d left her coat in her room. Stupid.

Okay, this had better be a quick trip. She hustled across the alley and peered over the edge of the Dumpster. The thing was nearly half full. And the aroma... She stepped back and covered her nose. Eww...

Dishes clattered nearby, and she turned to look through a battered screen door in the old brick wall. A kitchen was on the other side, the white fluorescent light barely reaching through the shadows. Ah, food scraps—to the extreme—made that odor.

More prepared this time, she turned back to the Dumpster. Sam had mentioned a paper. She grimaced. Paper wasn’t going to survive that mess. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to look any closer.

* * *

“GREAT. JUST GREAT,” Trey grumbled as he slammed the receiver down. Nothing like an old-fashioned landline to vent his frustration with. The one waitress scheduled for tonight had just called in sick. She’d probably gone to the same party his cook Gabe had gone to last night. At least he’d toughed out the hangover and shown up.