Tanya Michaels - The Cowboy Upstairs

“I don’t need advice,” her mother said now. “I need you to look after your sister.”

“No.” The rush of anger was dizzying, and Becca grasped the edge of the table as her blood pressure soared. “I’m not your unpaid babysitter anymore. I’m a grown woman with my own child and a mayoral campaign who—”

“I bet you have all those Cupid’s Bow voters conned into believing you value family.”

Becca had too much self-control to hang up on anyone...but just barely. “If you value family, talk to your daughter. Molly’s young. There’s time for her to get her life on track before she makes an irreparable mistake.”

“You be sure to tell her that when she gets there.”

“When she gets here?” Becca echoed, praying she’d heard wrong.

“I was calling as a courtesy. She’s probably on a bus by now. Hateful girl told me to go to hell, declared she was moving in with you, and stormed out. The two of you should get along great.” And with that, her mother disconnected.

Becca sat frozen, barely registering the unpleasant buzz of the dial tone. Was Molly really coming here, or had she given Becca’s name as a decoy because she didn’t want their mother to know where to find her? Considering how long it had been since the two sisters had spoken, it seemed more likely that Molly would crash with a friend or one of those “inappropriate men” Odette had mentioned.

The sound of a vehicle in the driveway finally spurred Becca into motion. She put the phone back on its charger cradle and went to look out the window, expecting to see Sawyer. Despite her conflicted feelings about the man, at the moment she’d welcome a distraction. But it was the Whittmeyers.

She walked out barefoot to meet them. “I wasn’t expecting you for another hour at least,” she told her son as he hopped out of the minivan.

Lyndsay Whittmeyer rolled down her window, her Texas-sized blond curls filling the frame. “The movie was sold out, so we drove to Turtle for a round of minigolf and then brought him back.”

“It’s probably just as well,” Becca said. “Now he can get plenty of rest before his game in the morning.” They were scheduled to play at nine, which meant arriving at the soccer fields by eight thirty.

“Kick the other team’s butts,” Kenny called from inside the vehicle.

Marc laughed even as he cast a cautious look at Becca to make sure she didn’t object to butts. Not tonight, kiddo. Between Mayor Truitt’s pettiness and having to talk to her mother, Becca found her mental vocabulary was a bit more colorful than usual.

She was making sure her son had remembered to thank the Whittmeyers for taking him along when a taxi pulled up behind them, blocking their exit from the driveway. For years, there hadn’t been any cab service in Cupid’s Bow, but Arnie Richmond had decided he could make good money driving inebriated patrons home from the local bars on the weekends. Had Sawyer and Brody gone out drinking?

But it wasn’t the tall cowboy who climbed out of the back seat. A curvy redhead emerged, barely topping five foot three in her boots. She glanced around nervously as Arnie popped open the truck, but then she locked gazes with Becca and smiled.

Becca blinked. “Molly?” The young woman might not have gotten much taller since they’d last seen each other, but she’d definitely grown up. The interior light from the cab showed that the tips of her sister’s layered bob were streaked magenta and electric blue. And she filled out her black halter top in a very adult way.

Molly took a gigantic camo duffel bag from Arnie, handing him a crumpled wad of bills in exchange, then turned back to Becca. “Hiya, sis. Long time no see.”

Chapter Five

Becca felt dazed, moving on autopilot as she waved goodbye to the Whittmeyers and ushered her sister up the porch steps. She managed an absent “You remember your aunt Molly?” to Marc, even though she doubted he would. It seemed only yesterday that Becca had been applying bandages to Molly’s scraped up, preschool knees. Now her sister was a woman in painted-on jeans and high-heeled boots.

“You look...good,” Becca said diplomatically. Beneath the foyer chandelier, her sister’s heavy-handed makeup looked a little garish, but the teenager was still beautiful. Besides, Becca had too much guilt over their estranged relationship to open with criticism.

“Mama always said I look like you. The redhead part, maybe.” Molly’s laugh was self-conscious. “Definitely not the height.” She dug inside her purse and pulled out a green pack of bubble gum. “Want one?” she offered Marc, as she unwrapped a piece for herself.

He nodded eagerly.

“You okay with sour apple?” she asked. “I’ve also got grape, watermelon and fruit pun—”

“I’m sure sour apple will be fine,” Becca said. “Marc, why don’t you put on your pajamas and watch a DVD in my room? I need a few minutes to catch up with Aunt Molly.”

“’Kay, Mama. Thanks for the gum.”

“Sure thing, kid.” As he took off toward the staircase, Molly smiled after him. “He’s cute. I always wanted a little brother. Thought it might be fun not to be the baby of the family.”

Being the oldest was no picnic, either. “You’re definitely not a baby anymore. You’re a grown woman who gets to make adult choices. Like leaving home, apparently.”

Molly’s face flushed. “About that...”

“Odette only called fifteen minutes ago. The bus must have made good time.”

“I decided to save the money I would’ve spent on the ticket and bummed a ride from a couple of guys headed in this general vicinity. We parted ways at a bar just outside town.”

“Please tell me these were guys you knew.” Becca had an appalling mental image of her sister hitchhiking on the freeway.

“Uh, it was more like a friend-of-a-friend thing,” she said evasively. “But since I’m not twenty-one, I couldn’t go into the bar for dinner. You got anything to eat?”

“Come on, I’ll fix you a sandwich.”

Molly followed slowly, studying her surroundings. “This place sure looks different than back home.” There was an edge to her voice. Jealousy? Disapproval? Had she subscribed to Odette’s claims that Becca should be doing more to financially assist her family? “Is there a guest room?”

What was Molly’s backup plan in case there wasn’t—sleeping on the sofa? “Yes.”

Her sister looked away, blowing a green bubble that popped loudly. “I know you and I don’t talk much, but I can’t afford to get all the way to Oklahoma to stay with Courtney. Can I stay here?”

The inevitable question. Becca didn’t want to think about where Molly would end up if she said no. “You can stay. But there are a few house rules and conditions.”

Molly’s gaze hardened. “I don’t need you telling me what to do.”

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