Barbara Daille - The Texan's Little Secret

“Will I see you over at the house at supper?” she asked.

Savannah shook her head. “No, I’ve got a stew going in the slow cooker.”

“Smart move, moving into the apartment upstairs when Daddy expanded the building.”

“Believe me, now that he’s home full-time, I’m thanking my lucky stars I made the decision.”

“Come on, he’s not so bad.” Neither am I, even if we are like two peas in a pod. And why did she feel the sudden desire to state her case to Savannah? Getting more comfortable around her was one thing. Getting close enough to spill sisterly secrets wasn’t gonna happen. “Talk to you later,” she said, heading toward the main room of the farm store.

“Carly?”

She turned back.

“I forgive you for your smart remark about exercise, but...speaking of Travis—”

“Were we speaking of Travis? I didn’t hear anyone mention the name.”

“Stop.” Smiling, Savannah swatted her arm. Then her expression turned serious. “You haven’t asked about his progress.”

“No,” she said, just as seriously, her heart missing a beat.

Twenty years earlier, their mother had left the ranch, abandoning them all. Just this spring, Savannah had hired Travis, an old school friend and now her husband, who worked as a private detective, to track down Delia Baron. Not an easy job, as it turned out. They’d now reached the beginning of July with still no substantial developments. Or...

“Did he have luck with that connection to Albuquerque?” She hid her clenched fists at her sides and stared, waiting.

“No, it turned out to be another dead end.” Savannah sighed. “I know you’re trying not to breathe down my neck about Travis’s search, the way I’m trying not to hover over his shoulder.”

But Carly would like to hover over his shoulder. Heck, she wanted to help with the search and hurry things up any way she could.

Yes, when it came to comparing her to their dad, the apple—or maybe the peach—didn’t fall far from the tree. “Well, don’t give up,” she said, attempting to sound reassuring. “I’m sure if he just keeps digging, Travis will catch a break soon.”

Outside, sunlight dazzled her eyes before she could slip on her sunglasses, and heat seemed to haze the peach-scented air. Even with the high temperature, the short ride to the main house didn’t warrant turning on the ranch truck’s air conditioner. It would barely cool the interior before she arrived.

She left the windows open and drove slowly, appreciating the time alone. The time to breathe.

That last thought reminded her of her sister’s comments about breathing and hovering.

Savannah had assumed she’d hung back from asking questions about the search to keep from pressuring Travis. Partly true. But, for the most part, she walked around nearly biting her tongue in half to keep the two of them from guessing how eagerly she wanted results. She had her own need to find their mom and, like her reasons for staying away from the ranch, it was one her sisters and brothers didn’t know. If she had her way, they would never know.

* * *

A FEW MINUTES LATER, Carly nosed the truck into the long drive to the ranch house. The open windows caught a cross breeze, mild but welcome.

Several yards from the house, she glanced toward the barn and saw a sight she didn’t welcome at all.

Everything about her tightened—her hands on the wheel, her shoulders, her throat, her breath.

The cowboy standing in the barn doorway started toward the truck, his long legs in worn jeans eating up the space rapidly. He wore a battered Stetson, the wide brim shading most of his face, but no matter how much she tried to convince herself this was just any old cowhand striding toward her, she couldn’t believe the lie.

There was no mistaking those mile-wide shoulders or that sandy-blond hair. No mistaking the way her heart pounded.

The last time she’d seen Luke Nobel, he had turned and stalked away from her in anger, leaving her teenage heart crushed in the dust beneath his boots. To this day, she hadn’t healed right and probably never would.

She wasn’t ready for this meeting.

He wasn’t giving her a choice.

Seconds later, he halted within arm’s reach of her driver’s door, his eyes seeming to hold the power to pin her into her seat.

All these weeks of worrying, and here was the one situation she had wanted to avoid. All the years of running, and here stood the one man she’d tried so hard to leave behind.

“Carly Baron,” he said. “At last.”

His voice rumbled deeper than it had years before, coming from a chest broader and more solid than the boy’s she remembered.

“Luke.” She forced a grin. “Isn’t this flattering. Sounds like you were just waiting for the chance to run into me.”

“I figured it was bound to happen, once Brock said you’d come home again. But when I never caught sight of you, I started to wonder if he’d been hitting the pain pills too hard.”

“No pills. And, to Daddy’s dismay, we take great care in measuring out the bourbon. Also, I’m not home again. I’m just visiting.”

“The helpful daughter.”

“That’s me all over.” Her body tingled when he continued to stare. Gripping the steering wheel, she fought back a wave of disgust at herself. If she let a mere look from this man bring that reaction on, she would soon find herself in a world of hurt from him. Again.

She had parked at the wrong angle to allow for a quick exit to the house, and the truck sat too far from the road to reverse all the way down the drive. Maybe she could just back up a bit and then run over his danged toes.

The thought brought on a smile.

“Excuse me.” She shoved open the door and he jumped back.

A double dose of attitude made her stand straight in front of him. He stared back without saying a word. Let him look all he wanted. One touch, though, and she’d deck him.

The silence stretched on, till her nerves began to feel stretched thin, too. Never let ’em see you sweat, an old rodeo clown had once told her. She’d go that one better. Never let Luke see you care. She waved her hand in front of him. “Hel-loo. I’m still here. No sense trying to act like I’ve disappeared in a puff of smoke.”

“Not yet, anyhow. I was just thinking. It’s been a long time.”

“And you’ve come a long way.” If he picked up on the added meaning behind her words, he didn’t show it. Anger at his reminder of their past couldn’t quite overcome the hurt. Still, she managed to keep her voice even. “I hear you’re manager now. Daddy’s right-hand man. You finally made the connection and landed a job on the Roughneck, the way you’d always wanted.”

He got that message, all right. His jaw hardened, and his chest rose with a deep breath, as if he’d had to summon his patience.

What did he expect—that she would have forgotten the way he’d tried to use her to get a job on her dad’s ranch?

“Maybe I had other reasons for showing up that day, besides the job.”

“What reasons? Trying to win me over?” She laughed without humor. “Why bother, when you already had me where you wanted me?”

“You think that’s what it was all about? I wanted to get to your daddy through you?”

“I said that to you then, and you didn’t argue. But it looks like you found a way without me, after all.”

He stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head. “Funny. By now, I would have thought you’d grown up some.”

The pity in his tone rubbed her nerves raw. “I expected you’d have grown beyond working for my daddy.”

“A man’s gotta have a job,” he said mildly. “And I guess none of us knows what the future has in store.”