Bethany Campbell - A Little Town In Texas

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t,” Nick said. The men touched glasses and drank.

Through the open door, Cal could see Shelby Belyle sitting with his stepmother, Cynthia, and his own wife, his own gorgeous wife, Serena.

Nick’s wife was indeed a looker, thought Cal. She was curvaceous with richly dark hair and eyes. Beside Shelby sat Cal’s stepmother. The two women were a study in contrasts. Shelby was a young brunette earth goddess, Cynthia a coolly blond aristocrat, still stunning at forty-four.

But in Cal’s eyes neither of them could hold a candle to his beloved Serena. Her beauty was quieter, but deeper. Her green eyes still seemed to him the most mysterious in the world. She could give him a look from clear across the room that would shake him to the core with desire.

Just gazing at her now, his thoughts became carnal. He studied the way a strand of her long brown hair trailed over the delightful curve of one breast. Those lovely breasts were covered by a green silk blouse, and he wanted to unbutton it, part it, touch her and lower his mouth to taste her.

Tonight when they were finally alone in the guest bedroom, the first thing he was going to do to her was…

He heard the ghostly echo of his father’s old question. Do you always think with your dick? J.T. had said it half a hundred times back in Cal’s youth. The memory stung, and he hauled himself back to reality.

Nick Belyle smiled, as if he knew where Cal’s thoughts had been and exactly how lascivious they were. Cal cleared his throat and poured them each another shot. Down to business, he told himself. He said, “This brother of yours that’s coming—Mel. Tell me about him.”

Nick’s smile died. “What can I say? He’s the last person I’d want in Crystal Creek.”

“Is that from a legal aspect or a personal one?”

“Both,” said Nick and downed his drink with one swallow.

Cal studied the other man. Nick Belyle was not conventionally handsome, but his face was interesting, or so women seemed to think. Serena had said he looked a cross between an angel and a street punk.

It was a complex face, and it suited him. He seemed like a complex guy. Going counter to Brian Fabian’s orders had been hard on him. J.T. said so, and so did Cal’s sister Lynn, and Nora said it, too.

Cal chose his words carefully. “Are you startin’ to wish you hadn’t got messed up in this?”

Nick pushed away his empty glass. “I don’t regret what I did. It was the right thing.”

Cal nodded. “We think so.”

If Nick hadn’t spoken out, nobody would have known what Fabian was up to. As it was, the McKinneys had been able to throw legal roadblocks in his way, and for the time, they had slowed him. The question was, could they stop him?

Cal met Nick’s cool blue stare. “You think your brother’s comin’ to try to buy more land?”

Nick’s gaze didn’t waver. “What do you think?”

Cal tossed back the drink then leaned both elbows on the bar. “Hell, yes. I think we done made Fabian mad.”

“You’ve made him mad?” Nick said with an ironic smile. “He doesn’t like being crossed. I crossed him.” Nick’s eyes moved to the living room to rest on his young wife.

Cal followed his gaze. “You worried about her?”

Nick shook his head, but not with certainty. “This is hard on her. She loves this land. The worst thing Fabian can do to her is buy up as much as possible and ’doze it into housing lots. That’d break her heart.”

That’d break a lot of hearts, thought Cal. He said, “What’s the worst Fabian can do to you?”

The other man shrugged. “Professionally? He could move to fine and disbar me. But he can’t if I don’t work against him for a certain time. I know the law.”

“That’s about your work,” Cal said. “What about personal?”

Nick paused before answering. “The worst? I guess what he’s doing.”

“Sending your brother down here?”

“Yeah.” Nick’s voice was toneless.

Cal slowly turned the whiskey decanter round on the bar, watching the light refract from the cut glass. He asked, “So how good a lawyer is your brother?”

“Damn good.”

Cal kept twisting the decanter to make the light dance. “Is he a feller pretty much like yourself?”

“No,” Nick said. “He’s more of a company man. To me, working for Fabian was like a game. Sometimes the game was dirty. I ignored it as long as I could. My brother thinks differently. For him, it’s a way of life. He’s absolutely loyal.”

It was a loaded question, but Cal asked it. “Why?”

Nick’s expression went cynical. “Somehow he needed that way of life more than I did. He and I never…” The words trailed off.

Cal’s curiosity prickled. “He and you never what?”

“It’s—private. But basically, he’s coming here on a righteous mission. He wants to kick my ass.”

Cal lifted an eyebrow. “Meaning he also wants to kick our ass?”

“Precisely,” said Nick.

“How do we stop him?”

Nick made a tight, exasperated gesture. “I can’t do much. Fabian’s got me in legal handcuffs for at least a year.”

“I understand,” said Cal. “Daddy explained. He’s hired lawyers in Dallas. What do you think of them?”

Nick’s face became unreadable. “They’re doing their best.”

Cal knew what the problem was. The central conflict was a complex question over water rights. J.T.’s Dallas lawyers had forced Fabian to halt construction until it was resolved.

But Fabian had cleverly used the law to stop the work at a tricky stage. Now that stage threatened danger. The dam holding Fabian’s artificial lake in place was temporary, a mere makeshift levee. With each rain that fell, it became an increasing hazard.

Fabian complained his hands were tied. The injunction against him forbade work on anything at Bluebonnet Meadows—including the dam. The Dallas attorneys dawdled and dithered and seemed incapable of solving the mess.

“The lawyers aren’t doin’ so great?” Cal persisted.

“I didn’t say that,” Nick murmured.

“I know you didn’t,” Cal returned. He reached into his shirt pocket and drew out a piece of notebook paper. “I got two names here. Other lawyers. Now Daddy probably can’t afford ’em, but me and my partners can. I’d have to try to ease into doin’ it. Not to put his nose out of joint. Would you just look at this for me?”

He unfolded the paper and laid it on the bar, smoothing it out. He could see Nick’s reluctance. But Nick, grim-faced, looked down and read the names. Cal watched his expression. Slowly, disbelievingly, Nick grinned.

Cal said, “Now, I know you can’t tell me if these folk’d be good. But you might make some little…remark. Chosen careful, I realize.”

Nick looked at Cal with something like new-won respect. “Where’d you get these names?”

“I got connections here and there,” Cal said nonchalantly.

“I see that you do.”

“So—can you say what you think?”

Nick’s smile grin became conspiratorial. “I think you’re one smart cowboy.”

“Naw,” Cal said. “It was more my partners’ idea. There’s three of us. We call ourselves the Three Amigos. They’re the brains. I’m just a simple country boy.”

“Right,” Nick snorted. He put his hand on Cal’s shoulder and laughed. “Man,” he said, shaking his head. “Man, oh, man. This is something.”

Cal laughed, too. Maybe Fabian and Nick’s brother didn’t hold the winning cards, after all.

KITT HAD NOT SEEN the Hill Country for twelve years—almost half a lifetime ago. She had convinced herself it would seem strange and was startled that it didn’t. Why does it still feel so familiar, she thought with apprehension. It shouldn’t.