Nicole Helm - Wyoming Cowboy Ranger

If he could erase four years of his adolescent life, it would have been funny. He would have had a heck of a time making fun of all of the fallen Carsons. But since he’d given all that up once upon a time, and no one had any clue, all this wedded bliss and the popping out of babies was hard to swallow.

“You coming to the baby shower?” Vanessa demanded. Marriage and pregnancy hadn’t softened her any. At least there was that.

“Do I look like the kind of man who goes to baby showers?”

“Oh, don’t be a wuss. It’s coed.”

“It’s co-no.”

“Noah’s coming.”

Hell.

“You’re way more of a baby shower guy than Noah.”

“I take offense to that.”

She grinned. “Good. I’ll count you down for a yes.”

“I don’t think—”

“Give him a break, Van,” Dylan said, his arm resting across her shoulders, as if just a few months ago they hadn’t hated each other’s guts. “It’s only because Jen’s going to be there.”

Ty stiffened, fixing Dylan with an icy look. “What’s Jen got to do with anything?”

Vanessa’s smile went sly, but she nodded agreeably to her husband’s words. “It’s no secret you two hate each other.” She enunciated the word hate as if it didn’t mean what it ought.

But it darn well had to. “I can’t stand the whole lot of you, but I’ve suffered through a few weddings now—a lot better than the two of you did on that first one,” he replied, nodding toward Vanessa’s expanding stomach.

Vanessa rubbed her belly. “That was fate.”

“That was alcohol. Now, I have things to do.”

“One o’clock tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

He grunted. He could disappear for the night, easily enough. Even his brother wouldn’t be able to find him. But Noah would be disappointed if he baled. Worse, Noah’s wife, Addie, would be disappointed in him. She’d give him that wounded deer look.

Damn Delaney females.

Ty stalked down the street, edgy and snarling and with nothing to take it out on. He pushed into Rightful Claim knowing he had to rein in his temper lest Grady poke at it. Though Grady owned Rightful Claim, Ty lived above it and worked most nights as a bartender.

He’d been toying around with the idea of convincing Grady to let him buy in as partner. He just wasn’t 100 percent sure he wanted to be home for good. He was done with the army rangers, that much was for sure, but that didn’t mean he was ready to water the roots that tied him to Bent.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t. The problem was he wasn’t sure. Until he was, he was going to focus on taking it one day at a time.

Grady looked up from his place behind the bar where he was filling the cash register to get it ready for the three o’clock opening. “You got a letter in the mail,” Grady offered lightly, nodding toward a pile of envelopes and glossy postcards. “No postage. Odd.”

Ty shrugged and snatched up the letter with his name on it. “Women never leave you secret admirer notes, Grady?”

“No, women used to leave me themselves,” Grady said with a sharp grin.

“Used to,” Ty replied with a snort. “Old married man.”

“Ain’t half-bad with the right marriage, in my experience.”

“Sage advice from the married-for-less-than-a-year. You come talk to me when you’ve got a few decades under your belt.”

“Won’t change anything,” Grady replied with a certainty that didn’t make any sense to Ty. How could anyone possibly be sure? Especially Grady? His mother had been married more times than Ty could count. At least Ty’s dad had had the good sense to stop after Mom had died. Focused his making people miserable on his kids instead of on a new woman.

“You okay?” Grady asked casually enough.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“You seem...”

Ty looked up at his cousin and raised an eyebrow.

“Edgy,” Grady finished, heeding none of Ty’s nonverbal warnings.

“I’m always edgy,” Ty said, trying to flash the kind of grin he always flashed. It fell flat, and he knew it.

“No. You’re always a little sharp, a little hard, but you’re not usually edgy .”

Ty shrugged. “Just waiting for the curse to hit us trifold. Or is it quadruple-fold? Can’t keep up with you all.”

“If you believe in town curses, it’s out-of-your-mind-fold.” Grady still stood behind the cash register even though he’d finished his work. “If you’ve got trouble, you only need to share it, cousin. Mine, cow or woman?”

Ty wanted to smile at the old code they’d developed as kids. But the problem was he didn’t know what kind of trouble he’d brought home. Whatever trouble it was, though, it was his problem. They’d had enough around here lately, and with Van and Laurel pregnant, Ty wasn’t going to make a deal about things.

He was going to handle it. He always handled it.

“Be down for opening,” Ty grumbled, dreading the Saturday night crowd. He moved through the bar to the back room, not looking down at the letter clutched in his fist. He walked up the stairs, forcing himself not to break into a jog. When he stepped into his apartment, he ripped open the envelope, trying not to focus on the lack of postage.

He pulled out a small, white piece of paper, eyes hurrying over the neatly printed words.

It must be nice to be home with the people you love—family, sure, but first loves most of all.

It won’t be so nice to lose. One or the other.

Ty crumpled the note as his hand curled into a fist. He reared his arm back, ready to hurl it into the trash, but he stopped himself.

He smoothed the note out on the counter and studied it. Whoever was threatening him anonymously would have to be stopped.

Which meant he had to figure out who wanted to hurt him and was close enough to drop an unstamped letter in his mailbox.

The people you love.

Not on his watch.

* * *

JEN DELANEY WAS as pretty as he’d been told. It gave him a little thrill. As did watching her while she hadn’t a clue anyone was watching. She stocked shelves, waited on the occasional customer, all while he watched from the viewfinder of his camera.

He’d had to take a break when Ty Carson had sauntered up, but that had given him time to leave the note.

Ty Carson.

Feeling the black anger bubble in his gut, he lowered the camera. He took deep calming breaths, and counted backward from ten just like Dr. Michaels always told him to.

He found his calm. He found his purpose. He slid into the car he’d parked in the little church parking lot. He exchanged his camera for his binoculars.

He could just barely make Jen out through the storefront of Delaney General. She was the perfect target. In every way.

And when he targeted her, he’d make Ty fear. He’d make Ty hurt. He’d ruin his life, step by step.

Just like Ty had ruined his.

On one last breath, he smiled at himself in the rearview mirror. Calm and happy, because he had his plan in place.

Step one: charm Jen Delaney.

It shouldn’t be hard. He knew everything about her. Thanks to Ty.

Saturday evenings at Delaney General were always fairly busy. During the week Jen’s crowd was minimal and usually the browsing kind. Weekends were more frantic—trips to grab what had been forgotten over the week. A twelve-pack of beer, sauce for spaghetti already on the stove and, in the case of one nervous young gentleman, a box of condoms.

She’d made one joke about telling his mother. He’d scurried away, beet red. There was some joy in living in a small town. Jim Bufford hefted a twenty-four-pack of her cheapest beer onto the checkout counter and grinned at her, flashing his missing bottom tooth. “Care to drink dinner with me, darling?”