Betting On The Maverick

Thankfully, his daughter took after her mother in the looks department. Though, he had to admit, last night she had shown a few badger tendencies. For a second, he’d thought she might try to rip a piece out of his hide.

Having him in her family home definitely had her all hot and bothered. Or maybe it was him without his shirt.

Brad grinned and relaxed even further in the saddle. There had been a potent sizzle of attraction between them. She’d done her best to ignore it. But he’d seen how her gaze had lingered on his bare chest and then dropped lower for an instant before returning to his face.

She might want him out of her house, but she also wanted him in her bed. A place where he wouldn’t mind spending a little time.

The sex would, of course, likely be a short-term kind of thing. It would be like one of those fireworks on the Fourth of July. Brilliant and hot, they’d light up the sky then everything would fizzle.

That was fine with him. His marriage to Janie had confirmed what he’d always known. He wasn’t a happily-ever-after kind of guy. Though Brad liked and respected women, he could never seem to make them happy. At least not out of bed.

The house was still quiet when he entered after putting his horse in the stable. Normally, he’d have stayed out most of the day, trying to get everything ready for winter. But he and Margot had a few things to square first.

Until they came to an understanding, he didn’t trust her not to toss his stuff into the yard and lock him out of the home. Thankfully, the doors didn’t have deadbolts and he’d been smart enough to drop a key into his pocket before leaving the house—just in case.

People in this part of the country barely locked their doors. If he had a mean-ass dog like Viper, there’d be no need to lock anything ever again.

Pulling the door shut, Brad glanced around. No sign of Margot. Or Viper.

Brad set the coffee to brew, then pulled out a heavy cast-iron skillet and went to work.

Several minutes later, when the eggs were frying in bacon grease and two slices of his mother’s homemade bread had just popped up in the toaster, Brad was distracted from his culinary pursuit by a voice from the doorway.

“What the heck do you think you’re doing?”

Ignoring the outrage in the tone, Brad wrote off the impressive anger to an as-yet-no-coffee morning.

“What does it look like?” He focused on plating the food. “I’m making breakfast.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m hungry. I assume you are, too.” He turned to glance at her.

It was a mistake. Hair still slightly damp from the shower hung in gentle waves past her shoulders. She’d pulled on a green long-sleeved tee that made her eyes look like emeralds and showed off her breasts to mouthwatering perfection. The jeans, well, the way they hugged those long legs should be outlawed.

Though Brad told himself not to go there, he imagined stripping off her shirt and filling his hands—and his mouth—with those amazing—

“What’s the matter with you?”

Brad blinked and the image vanished. He resisted the urge to curse. Barely. “What do you mean?”

His innocent tone had her green eyes flashing.

“You looked like you were plotting something.”

Oh, she was perceptive, this one. He had indeed been plotting. Plotting what to do once he got her into bed. The thought made him grin.

“I was just thinking about feasting on—” he stopped himself in the nick of time “—eggs. And bacon.”

“We need to talk.”

“Eat first. Then talk.” Brad placed the plates of food on the table then expertly filled two mugs with coffee. He cocked his head. “Cream?”

“Black.”

“A woman after my own heart.”

She took the cup he handed her then met his gaze.

“I’m a woman,” she said, “who is determined to get you out of my home.”

Viper, whom he’d up to now tried to ignore, growled as if in agreement.

“Drink your coffee,” he said mildly.

“Coffee won’t change my mind.” Still, she brought the cup to her lips and exhaled a blissful sigh after the first gulp. She looked up. “What is this? The cheap stuff my dad always had on hand did double-duty as a drain cleaner.”

“I order it online. It has chicory in it.”

Those wide lips of hers curved up. Though she wouldn’t admit it, Margot Sullivan looked as though she might be starting to soften toward him.

He thought about pulling out her chair, but decided that would be overkill. Brad pulled out one for himself and sat down.

Sunlight streamed in through the window, filling the small eating area in the country kitchen with warmth. He supposed some people found the wallpaper with dancing teakettles appealing. At first they’d bothered the heck out of him. Now he barely noticed them.

Though he’d moved in two months earlier, Brad had focused on the outdoor needs and had left the inside alone.

When Boyd had first left town, Brad felt sure the old guy would be back any day. Then he’d learned about the ticket to New York. Brad had asked around and discovered the old guy hadn’t requested any of the neighbors to watch the ranch. Of course, that may have been because he now considered it to be Brad’s.

After almost two months, Brad had grown weary of making the trek to the ranch every day and decided to move in.

Though the decor wasn’t to his liking, the only change he made was to the guest bedroom. He refused to sleep under a pink, blue and yellow quilt with ruffles around the shams.

The scrape of a chair against the linoleum had him looking up just in time to see Margot finally take a seat in the chair opposite him, her steaming mug gripped tightly in one hand.

“Your dog might be hungry,” he said. “Her kibble is in the bowl over there.”

Brad gestured with his head toward a weathered enclosed back porch that doubled as a storage area.

“I put some water out for her, too.”

Margot paused, coffee mug poised near those tempting full lips. “Where did you get the food?”

“From your truck.” He shrugged and shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “I brought in your other stuff. It’s sitting in the foyer.”

“Thanks.” Still, she looked at him suspiciously, as if trying to figure out the catch.

Well, she could look all she wanted. There was no catch. If the dog didn’t eat, it’d get meaner. And Brad prized his ass. His brother Nate had always accused him of being soft on animals. Nothing could be further from the truth, unless feeling that any living being deserved to have fresh food and water qualified as soft.

While he’d briefly considered leaving her stuff in the truck as a way of saying hit-the-road-Red, he couldn’t do it. Despite what the deed said, the place still didn’t feel as if it belonged to him, and he wasn’t sure it ever would.

They ate in silence for several minutes. Though Brad considered himself a social guy, he’d enjoyed the solitude of this house, this ranch. When he’d worked his parents’ spread there was always someone around, his brothers and the other ranch hands. Until he could hire some help, he was on his own. Or he had been, until Margot had showed up.

Brad wondered what it said about him that he found himself enjoying the suspicious looks Viper shot him while chowing down on her food and the scrutiny in Margot’s emerald eyes from her spot across the table.

Her hand returned to her coffee cup and she took another long gulp, an ecstatic look on her face.

Would she look like that after sex, he wondered? He let his gaze linger on the large breasts evident beneath the clinging fabric of her tee.

When he lifted his gaze, Brad found icy green eyes fixed on him.

She set her mug down with a bam. “If you’re through staring, I suggest we get down to business. Gage is busy so he’s sending a detective or something. I didn’t even know we had those in this town. He should be here any minute—”

“You really called the sheriff?” Brad wasn’t sure why he was surprised. He hadn’t expected her to follow through on her threat made in the dark of night. Then again, though he barely knew this woman, it seemed like something she’d do. Still, he realized he’d hoped they could become better acquainted before she brought in the law.

Now that she was home, Brad supposed he could just turn the Leap of Faith over to her. But he hesitated to voice that option. From what he could tell, she and Boyd had been estranged, at least for the past few years. Once he signed the deed over to her, she could do with it what she wanted. Which might not be what Boyd would want...

“I felt it best to move swiftly.” Margot relaxed back in the metal chair, circa 1950, and peered at him over the top of her mug. “You understand.”

The challenge in those eyes stirred something inside him.

He shot her a sardonic smile. “I’d have taken exactly the same step.”

The look of surprise that flashed across her face pleased him. But before he had a chance to revel in this minor victory, Viper returned from the back porch, those narrowed piercing gold eyes never leaving him as she ambled past him to sit beside Margot’s chair.

The sound of a truck pulling up in the drive had Viper forgetting all about him to focus her attention on a new target. She gave three short high-pitched barks but quieted instantly at Margot’s command.

“I’ll get—” he began, shoving back his chair.

“I’ll get it.” She was already on her feet and moving toward the foyer. “This is my house.”

Brad moved to the counter, pulled out another mug and filled it with coffee, then topped off his and Margot’s cups.

He’d barely finished dumping the breakfast dishes in the sink when Margot and Viper returned with Russ Campbell.

Brad had met Russ when he returned to Montana after three years in Colorado. A police detective from Kalispell, Russ had recently been doing some consulting detective work for Gage Christensen in Rust Creek Falls.

“Mornin’, Russ.” Brad handed the guy a cup and then quickly performed introductions. “What made you stop by?”

“Margot, here.” Russ took the cup gratefully then glanced at the woman. “Called the station and asked Gage when we started allowing squatters.”

“I called because I need to know what’s been done and what you’re doing now to find my father.” Margot spoke slowly and distinctly, her eyes flashing. “That’s my first priority. Getting rid of him—” she pointed to Brad “—is secondary.”

Brad found it interesting she seemed so concerned about locating her dad now. According to what she’d said last night, they hadn’t spoken in months.

Once the deputy asked his questions, Brad had a few of his own.

Chapter Three

“Let’s sit.” Russ gestured to the table and took a gulp of coffee.

Brad topped off his mug. Instead of sitting, he leaned back against the counter.

His actions didn’t surprise Margot. Cowboys were an independent breed who didn’t like to be told what to do.

Russ took a seat at the table. He was a good-looking guy: around six foot two with broad shoulders, wavy brown hair and hazel eyes.

Margot wondered if the detective had grown up in the area but couldn’t place him. Russ was older enough that if he had, she wouldn’t have known him.

She remembered Brad because everyone knew the Crawfords. When Brad went off to college, she was still playing with dolls. By the time he was back, he was running with an older crowd and then he was married.

She forced her thoughts from Brad and back to the question that Russ had just asked him.

“Is it that you like hearing me repeat myself?” Brad frowned into his coffee before lifting his gaze. “We went through all of this right after Boyd left.”

“Miss Sullivan wasn’t here then.” The detective slanted a smile in her direction. “I’d like to catch her up to speed. Perhaps she can shed some light on the situation.”

“Please call me Margot,” she told Russ with a smile.

“Margot, then. You can call me Russ.”

Brad gave a snort of disgust. “Now that we’ve got that settled,” he said with a sarcastic drawl, “can we move this along? I have fences to mend.”

Russ merely smiled and inclined his head, obviously an indication that the ball was still in Brad’s court.

Margot watched him square his shoulders.

“It was the Fourth of July. I went to the wedding—of Braden Traub and Jennifer MacCallum,” he clarified for Margot. “They had a reception in Rust Creek Falls Park. The usual barbecue and this wedding punch that lots of people couldn’t get enough of...including your father.”

“Go on,” Russ prompted.

“Several of us guys, including Boyd, ended up at the Ace in the Hole saloon. We played a little poker. Had some drinks.” Brad looked as Margot. “The bets were getting a little out of hand. Your father was really betting like crazy. For a while he was winning. Then his luck changed. He lost everything he’d won...and then all the money he had on him.”

“My father was,” Margot paused and took a deep breath, “is an alcoholic. He quit drinking around the time he met my mother and had been sober ever since. After she died, he went to the bottle for comfort. It was as if he had nothing more to live for since she was gone.”

“He had you,” Brad said quietly.

“I guess he didn’t see it that way.” Margot tried to force a smile to her lips but it wouldn’t slip into place.

“On that particular day, most of the town was drunk.” Russ jotted down some notes, glanced back up at Margot. “What about gambling? Was that an issue for him, too?”

She thought for a moment. “I can’t say for certain. During my childhood, he never gambled. I remember my parents had friends who were always asking them to go to the casinos in Kalispell with them, but they’d never go.”

Russ asked for their names and added their contact information to his growing notes. “I’ll check with them to see if a gambling addiction was ever mentioned.”

Margot shifted her gaze to Brad. “You said he ran out of money. What happened then?”

“The pot was large. Everyone seemed to think they held the winning hand, so it kept growing.” Brad shifted from one foot to the other. “Then it was just me and Boyd. He grew frantic when it was time for him to ante up. He had no more money and he didn’t want to drop out. He put up the deed to the ranch so he could stay in. Insisted upon it.”

Margot raised a skeptical brow. “Insisted?”

“Yes,” Brad said flatly. “You know how bullheaded your dad can be. I tried to talk him out of it, but let’s just say his, ah, response made it clear I was to mind my own.”

It rang true. Margot had been on the receiving end of her father’s sharp tongue. When he was in one of his black moods, you couldn’t tell him a darn thing.

She took a breath and exhaled. “So he lost the hand—” she added, more to neatly tie up the incident with a bow than because she had any doubt of the outcome “—and the ranch.”

“The punch at the wedding was spiked,” Russ interjected.

Clearly annoyed, Brad pinned the detective with his gaze. “I’ve admitted—numerous times—that while I may have had a few glasses, I wasn’t drunk. What I’ve told you is accurate.”

Margot’s gaze turned speculative.

“I had a full house,” Brad explained. “He had three queens. Normally a winning hand. Just not this time.”

“You didn’t have to take it.” Even she could hear the recrimination in her tone. “The ranch, I mean.”

“You think I wanted to take it? You know your dad. He shoved the deed in my face the next day.” Brad lifted his hands, let them drop. “Then he was gone. No one has seen him since.”

“One-way ticket to New York City,” Russ confirmed.

“He was out of money.” Margot’s head swam. None of this made any sense. “Yet he had enough to buy himself a train ticket all the way across the country?”

Brad shrugged. “Apparently.”

“We’re thinking someone bought him that ticket.” Russ cast a pointed glance at Brad.

“I didn’t buy it,” Brad answered with a cold stare of his own. “I made that very clear.”

“Who would do something like that?” Margot’s voice rose then broke. “Who would put a drunken old man on a train to New York City, a place where he doesn’t have any friends or family? Where someone could hurt him or—”

She closed her eyes briefly and fought for control.

“We initially assumed he’d gone to see his sister—”

“Until you found out she lived in New Jersey, not New York, and has been dead almost two years.”

“That’s right.” Russ looked surprised but his tone remained carefully controlled. “How did you know—?”

“I told her,” Brad said. “And I also mentioned how we’ve been trying to track her down ever since Boyd disappeared.”

“I’m sorry about that. I should have stayed in closer contact.”

“Why didn’t you?” Russ asked bluntly, his shrewd hazel eyes fixed on her.

Margot resisted the urge to squirm under that penetrating gaze. Instead she squared her shoulders. “We argued the last time I called.”

Russ’s gaze narrowed on her face. He lifted his pencil over his notepad. “What about?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Margot saw Brad pull out the chair and take a seat on her right. He wrapped both hands around his mug and leaned back.

“About everything.” Margot gave a humorless laugh. “I told him I won second place in Cortez. He reminded me that ‘second place is the first loser.’ I could tell by how he was slurring his words he’d been drinking. I confronted him.”

“What happened then?” Russ leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, his intense eyes never leaving her face.

“He told me if I was going to be on his ass every time we spoke, not to bother calling again.” She blinked away the tears that flooded her eyes. “He’d had a hard time of it since my mother died. He told me numerous times how hard it was to be here without her. I thought if I gave him some space...”

“There was no way for you to know he’d take off.” When Brad reached across the table and gave her hand a squeeze, Margot didn’t know which of them was more surprised. He quickly pulled back.

“Then I got injured.” Margot relayed the events of that day. “I ended up in the hospital. I called him but he didn’t answer and there was no voice mail. He refused to set it up. I must have tried to reach him at least fifty times. I was angry. I was hurt.”

“Were you worried?” Russ asked.

“I would have been, if we hadn’t had that blowup.” Margot blew out a breath and closed her eyes. Once she had her rioting emotions suppressed, she lifted her chin and fixed her gaze on Russ. “When the doctors told me I was out for the season, I stayed with a friend in Cheyenne for a bit but she had a small apartment and a roommate. I was in the way. I decided to come home. I planned to heal my hard head and hopefully mend fences with my father.”

Vivian nudged her hand with her nose and Margot patted the dog’s head, grateful for the show of support.

“When I got here, my dad was gone.” She gestured with one hand toward Brad. “He was here, acting as if he owned the place.”

“Well, I’m afraid he does own the Leap of Faith.” Russ cast a censuring glance in Brad’s direction.

Emotions rose hot and hard, nearly suffocating Margot with their intensity. “You—you can’t win a ranch in a card game.”

“Boyd signed the deed over to him.” Russ shot her a sympathetic look. “We’ve checked and it was a legitimate business transaction.”

“It was a poker game,” she said so loudly Vivian swiveled her head and growled.

At Russ? At Brad? Did it even matter?

Later, she would deal with the ownership of the ranch. For now, Margot would focus on what was most important...finding her dad.

“Tell me what steps you’ve taken to find him.”

“We’ve notified the New York City Police Department as well as the police departments of every stop between here and there.” Russ spoke in what she thought of as a police voice. “Because of your father’s age and questionable cognitive ability, we were able to put him out there as a ‘Missing Vulnerable Adult.’”

“How is that different than simply being a missing person?” Margot asked.

“More attention,” Russ told her. “More focus.”

“Has anyone spoken with him since he left Rust Creek Falls?” she asked. “Or have there been any sightings in any of the cities on the train route?”

“No.” Russ gentled his tone. “That doesn’t mean we quit looking. I check in weekly with the departments in the towns where the train stopped.”

Margot shoved back her chair with a clatter and began to pace. “He can’t have vanished into thin air. I should go to New York, see—”

“New York City has a population of over eight and a half million.” Russ rose and moved to her, his voice calm. “The best thing you can do is to wait here. Let us know if he contacts you.”

Margot blew out a breath, raked her fingers through her hair. She returned to the table and dropped down in the seat she’d vacated only moments earlier. “You’re right. It’s just that...he’s my dad. He’s old and he’s out there alone.”

And there was a man living in her house who, despite what the detective said, had no right to be here.

This was her home. She was the one who belonged. If Brad Crawford thought she would move out because of a poker hand, he would soon learn differently.

* * *

Brad watched Russ drive off from the front porch and hoped he’d seen the last of the deputy. The man obviously still had it into his head—just like many others in town—that Brad had something to do with Boyd’s mysterious disappearance. That, for an unknown reason, he wanted the old guy out of town so badly he’d purchased a train ticket.

Even though it made no sense, the rumor persisted. Brad had heard the whispers and seen the sidelong glances. He’d paid them no mind, telling himself it really was no different than the gossip that flourished whenever one of his relationships came to an end.

Rust Creek Falls was a nice little town but people clearly had too much time on their hands to speculate and draw erroneous conclusions.

He glanced around, wondering where Margot had gone. She’d said her goodbyes to the deputy but then disappeared when Russ stepped outside.

The sound of a dog barking came from the stables so Brad headed in that direction. The saddle was already on her gray Arabian when he stepped inside. The dog was there too, baring her teeth in welcome.

“Hey, Viper, the mean-dog act is getting old,” Brad told the animal, ignoring the growls.

Margot turned, her brows slamming together. “What did you call her?”

“Viper. That’s her name.”

“That is not her name.” Margot scowled. “Her name is Vivian.”

“Seriously?”

Her chin lifted. “What’s so strange about that?”

Brad paused, considered, grinned. “My mother has a friend named Vivian. That woman has a certain bite to her so perhaps it’s not so strange. Come to think of it, Mom’s friend also has those streaks of gray in her hair.”

“Har, har. You’re hilarious, Crawford.” Margot reached down and gently rubbed the top of the dog’s head. “Sometimes I call her Vivi.”

He made a gagging sound. “That’s even worse.”

“Deal with it. That’s her name.”

“I’m going to call her Viper,” he said, settling the matter.

“You most certainly are not.” Her voice snapped like sheets hung out to dry on a windy day.

“Try and stop me.” He shot her a wicked smile, enjoying the banter.

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need to stop you. You’re moving out, so you won’t be around to call her anything.”

“Wrong again, Red.”

She leaned forward, giving him a good view of her lace bra. He tried to think of something else that would irritate her but there was only one thought in his head.

If she’d only lean closer...

Not only would he be interested in seeing more, he wanted to immerse himself in her, in her scent. She smelled like wildflowers. Not the sickening over-the-top fragrance his grandma wore, the kind that made his eyes water, but a light, airy scent that enveloped him, made him want to draw closer.