Linda Warren - The Texan's Secret

In a matter of minutes he had her Houston address from Walker. Chance told him about the incident, and the constable wanted to put an All Points Bulletin out on her. Chance kept seeing the fear in Shay’s eyes, however, and wanted to find out firsthand what she was after. The law officer reluctantly agreed, but they both knew Judd was going to be pissed. It was up to Chance to make everything right. He felt he owed that to Judd for bringing her into the house.

He didn’t tell Renee much—only that the rental had been delivered and their mysterious guest had left. The older woman was disappointed.

He checked on the cowboys and put Monty in charge. Then, after filling his truck with gas, Chance headed for Houston.

Thanks to the GPS in his truck, her house was easy to find. He took the Airline Drive exit from the freeway. She lived in the north central area of Houston, in an older neighborhood. He pulled up near a small, cream-colored frame house with brown shutters. The paint was peeling and the place needed a good coat of fresh color.

A bright blue house was next door, the two set closer than the others on the block. The yard was hard to miss, since about a dozen pink flamingoes stood among plastic windmills, birdhouses and birdbaths. On the garage door was a sign: Nettie’s Beauty Nook. Evidently the garage had been converted into a beauty shop.

Shay had said something about a cousin who helped her. That could be her house.

Farther down the street two guys were working on a car, with a stereo blasting. Cigarettes dangled from their lips and tattoos ran up their arms. Another car sat to the side with grass growing around it. Chance had a feeling the neighborhood wasn’t too safe.

He turned into Shay’s driveway and parked. Time to meet her and her family. Climbing from the truck he strolled up the walk. There wasn’t a bell so he knocked.

No one came to the door, but he could hear voices inside. Suddenly the door opened a crack, the safety chain still attached.

“What do you want?” a girl about seven or eight asked. In jeans, sneakers and T-shirt, she seemed overly thin. Her brown hair was cut short like a boy’s, and she wore wire-rimmed glasses that were so lopsided he wondered how she saw anything out of them.

“You better close the door,” a boy about the same age said from behind her. “Your mom said we weren’t supposed to open it to strangers.”

Mom? Shay had a kid?

The girl spared the boy a sharp glance. “You’re such a scaredy-cat.”

“Am not.” He peered around her shoulder to the driveway. “Look, Darce, he’s got a truck.”

She followed his gaze and then looked at Chance. “Does it have a Hemi?”

Chance was taken aback by the question. Most kids her age wouldn’t know the term. “Do you know what a Hemi is?”

“Yes.” She nodded and straightened her glasses. “It’s a tough truck that will go through mud, creeks and mountains. It can do anything.” She pointed to the boy. “His brother is saving up for one and has pictures all over his wall.”

“I see.” Chance had to smile at the imagination of children. He glanced over his shoulder. “My truck is a Chevy four by four.”

“Then it’s a piece of junk.” The girl had a razor-sharp tongue and the attitude of a cowboy who’d had too many beers the night before.

He couldn’t stop thinking that this was Shay’s child, and that Shay probably had a husband as well. She had a family and was trying to rob the Calhouns. That didn’t fit. She was too nice.

Whoa, cowboy. He was letting his heart rule his head because he was smitten with her. Feeling that way about a woman hadn’t happened in a long time. And it felt good. But now he had to think with his head.

“Go away,” the girl said, and made to slam the door. But he put his booted foot in the opening, that had become wider as they were talking.

“I’d like to talk to Shay, please,” he said politely.

“Sic him, Tiny,” she said to the dog fussing around her feet.

The small canine, a cross between a Chihuahua and something else, launched himself through the crack. Latching on to Chance’s jeans with his sharp teeth, Tiny shook his head as if he were a Doberman about to take down a rottweiler.

Chance reached down and dislodged the dog from his jeans. He rubbed the animal’s head, and Tiny growled deep in his throat. “Think I’ll take you home with me. I know two little boys who’ll give you a run for your money.” Chance had no plans to take the dog. He just wanted to get the girl’s attention. And he did.

“Hey. You can’t do that. That’s my dog.” She quickly undid the safety chain and charged outside.

“Maybe little girls who are rude shouldn’t have a dog.”

“Darcy, where are you?”

“Uh-oh,” the little boy said.

“I’m at the front door.”

“What are you…” Shay’s voice trailed away when she saw Chance, and her eyes were huge. Evidently she’d thought he wouldn’t follow her.

“This man wanted to see you and I wouldn’t let him in.”

“You’re not supposed to open the door to strangers. Period.”

“I’m eight years old. I’m not a baby.”

“Darcy, don’t talk back to me.”

Shay was still reeling from the shock of seeing Chance Hardin, and now she was arguing with her adopted daughter in front of him. What did he want? Well, that was a no-brainer; after the way she’d left Southern Cross.

She’d trembled all the way home, listening for the sound of a siren. She’d thought she was home free, but he’d followed her. Damn. What should she do now?

“Shay, where in the hell are you?”

Darcy frowned. “The witch’s been calling for you.”

“Do not call Blanche a witch.” Shay’s nerves were about to snap. She couldn’t deal with Chance, her mother and Darcy all at the same time. At the moment he was the most pressing problem. Chance was glaring at her with those beautiful dark eyes, and she almost forgot she had to get rid of him.

“Mother, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“You finally dragged your ass home. That kid is making too much noise.”

Shay cringed that Chance was listening to this.

“I was at the shop,” she called back. “Just give me a few minutes, please.”

“I want a glass of iced tea.”

“Fine. I’ll fix it.”

Shay turned to her daughter. “Go outside and play with Petey, and we’ll talk later.”

Darcy jerked her thumb toward Chance. “He has Tiny.”

Shay wondered about that. What was he doing with Darcy’s dog? And how could she get Tiny back without causing a scene? Before she could form a plan, Chance placed Tiny on the concrete and he trotted to Darcy. She lifted the dog in her arms, hugging him as he whimpered, and then she and Petey ran outside.

Now Shay had to talk to Chance. She felt like running outside, too. But she steeled herself and faced him. This is what you get, she thought, when you try to rob houses—a harsh dose of reality.

“You left in rather a hurry, didn’t you?” One eyebrow lifted beneath his Stetson. She ignored the hammering of her pulse.

“How did you get my address?”

“The constable looked up your license plate. High Cotton might be a small town, but we’re not idiots.”

She bit her lip. “What do you want?”

His eyes met hers in a direct, no-nonsense stare. “The truth, Shay Dumont. The honest-to-God truth.” He dragged out her name as if to remind her of her lie.

She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Okay, I lied. My real name is Shay Dumont.”

“Why?” His voice was as cool as ice water, and she trembled. But it didn’t keep her from noticing how good-looking he was. Tall and lean, with everything a girl could want in between. How she wished they had met before she’d pulled such a stupid stunt.