Two

      Judd stood in the narrow alleyway, one shoulder propped against the rough brick wall and a hand stuffed deep in the pocket of his jeans. A ribbon of smoke curled lazily upward from the cigarette dangling from his lips. Baby lay at his feet, his head resting between his front paws. Judd’s gaze was pitched high on the brick wall opposite him to a square of newer brick he could just make out in the dim light.

      At one time a catwalk had crossed from the building opposite his into the second story of the building his bar was housed in. At some point in time, someone had seen fit to remove the catwalk and had bricked up the openings in both buildings.

      But the memory of its purpose remained.

      Sighing, Judd pulled the cigarette from his mouth and flicked it away. He hunkered down beside Baby and dropped a hand to scratch absently at the dog’s head. As was his habit, the animal rolled to his back, exposing his belly. Chuckling, Judd scratched him there, as well. “You big lug,” he said in gentle reproach. He sighed again as he lifted his gaze back to the wall.

      If the woman had asked about anything or anyone else, he would have given her what information he could and sent her on her way without a second thought. But the lady had made a mistake. A big one. Mary Elizabeth Sawyer—the woman she claimed was her great-grandfather’s mother—had never had any children. At least none who had lived.

      All of which led Judd to wonder who Callie Benson really was, and what she wanted. The options were limited, for what would bring anyone to Guthrie, Oklahoma? The town was small, businesses few. Guthrie’s only draws were the Lazy E Rodeo Arena and the bed-and-breakfast inns that served the tourists who came to enjoy a bit of history.

      She sure as hell wasn’t a cowboy. A tourist, then? He shook his head at the thought. Granted she had a car full of cameras, but they weren’t the standard equipment a tourist would carry. More like a professional photographer’s gear. To his way of thinking, that only left one purpose for her visit. She’d come to dig up more dirt on Judd Barker. As if enough dirt hadn’t been heaped on his name already.

      He heaved another sigh. “So what are we going to do, Baby? Call her hand?”

      In response, the dog whined low in his throat. The sound vibrated through Judd’s fingertips and drew a rueful smile. Baby was his oldest friend, and at times in his life, his only friend.

      Baby’s ears perked, and he sat up and growled. Judd placed a restraining hand on the dog’s head to quiet him, and listened. He heard the faint click of footsteps on the brick sidewalk on the street beyond and took a step back to fade deeper into the alley’s shadows. Moments later he watched as Callie passed by the alley’s opening, her head bent against the wind, her shoulders hunched against the cold.

      She didn’t look like a reporter, at least not the sleazy variety who’d hounded him in the past. She looked like money, old money, the kind who dressed as they pleased and thumbed their noses at fashion. The leather jacket she wore was soft and supple with age. She wore it with a disregard for its value that only the privileged could pull off. Her jeans were even older than her jacket and threadbare in places that made a man look twice.

      And her car. Jesus. The sticker price on it alone was higher than that on most of the houses in Guthrie.

      As he watched her disappear from sight, the rounded cheeks of her butt playing a game of “now you see me, now you don’t” beneath the hem of her jacket, he curled his fingers in Baby’s fur. That he was attracted to her didn’t surprise him. Last time he checked, he wasn’t blind or dead—yet. And Callie Benson was a beautiful woman. Hers was a God-given beauty, nothing fake or implanted or modified about her. And, with his experience, Judd should know.

      He had a reputation as a lady’s man, and he couldn’t deny the tag. The guys in the band and in his road crew used to have an ongoing bet to see how long it took Judd to get laid once he hit a new town. To him it wasn’t a competition, only the simple pleasure of a pretty woman and—if she was willing—good sex. He knew no other kind.

      Yep, in the past a woman out on the prowl, looking for a good time, would’ve found it with Judd Barker.

      But not anymore. He’d learned to curb his appetite for the taste and feel of a pretty woman.

      “Liar,” he muttered under his breath. He slapped a hand against his leg and headed for the rear door that led to his bar with Baby padding along at his heels.

      * * *

      Callie burst through the door of the hotel, her arms wrapped tight around her. Frank turned and looked up at her over the top of his glasses. “Cold out?”

      “Freezing!”

      He chuckled and gave his chair a push, spinning around to face her. “It’s the wind. Cuts right through a person.”

      “That’s for sure.” She shivered and dropped her arms to shake them in an attempt to get her blood flowing warm again.

      “Did you find Judd?”

      She stopped flapping long enough to frown. “Yeah, I found him, all right.” She crossed to the front desk and propped her elbows on its top, puckering her lips into a pout. “What is it with that man? Does he eat nails for breakfast, or what?”

      “Judd?” Frank chuckled and reared back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head. “Nah, he just doesn’t take to strangers.” He leaned forward to scrape some papers from his desk. “Had a call or two while you were out.”