Wild Horses. B.J. Daniels
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paper, squinting to read it in the ambient light of the ranch yard lamp. “Cooper, who’s blackmailing you?”
“It’s not mine,” he said as he took it from her.
“Not yours?” Her eyes widened as she looked at the envelope she’d taken the paper out of—and the name printed on it. “Someone is blackmailing Olivia? Why?” She let out a curse under her breath as he took the envelope from her. “What has she done to you now?”
“Delia, please. I don’t want to talk about this,” he said as he put the blackmail note back into his jacket pocket.
“Someone is demanding fifty thousand dollars? How can you not talk about it? What are you going to do? You don’t have that kind of money.”
“I’m not paying the blackmailer and neither is Livie or her father. Delia, let it drop. I’m sorry you saw the note. You can’t say anything about it.”
She stepped closer. “You know I would help you any way I could.”
He caught a whiff of her perfume, the familiar smell tugging at him. Drunk and angry, he’d made the mistake of going to Delia after a fight with Livie early on in their relationship. Things between him and Delia had always been easy—unlike his relationship with Livie. Delia accepted him for who he was. But that moment of weakness had almost cost him Livie.
He couldn’t make that mistake again, even though it would have been easy right now to turn to a woman who understood him in a way he feared clearly Livie never could. Fortunately, he recognized how vulnerable he was right now, as vulnerable as he’d ever been.
He looked into Delia’s concerned face and shook his head. “I can’t,” he said, pulling away from her comforting touch. It would be too easy to let her salve the poison bite of Livie’s betrayal.
“If you ever need someone to talk to...”
He nodded, telling himself the worst thing he could do was compound his and Livie’s problems by taking Delia up on her offer. Turning, he headed for his pickup. When he reached it, he looked back to see her watching after him.
Glancing at the house, he saw Livie standing at the window. She was crying, something he’d only seen her do once before tonight when her colt had died. That time, he’d taken her in his arms and held her. He hadn’t been able to bear seeing her in pain like that.
He hesitated now, desperately wanting to go back, dry her tears, hold this woman he loved. What if it was true that some man drugged and raped her? What if none of this was her fault? How could he turn away from her?
If only she’d come to him right after it had happened. If only she had trusted him. If only he didn’t suspect that there was more to her story than she was telling him. If it was true, what she’d said, then why did she act so guilty?
She must have seen his hesitation. Hope seemed to bloom in her beautiful face in the instant before he saw her hand go protectively to her belly. The baby. His heart broke all over again.
LIVIE HAD TRIED to call Cooper last night and again this morning. The calls had gone straight to voice mail. That’s why she was so surprised when she heard his old pickup pull up out front.
In an attempt to keep his grown daughters close, Buckmaster had what he called bunkhouses built a few hundred yards from the main house. Each was a separate apartment with a communal living space as fancy as the main house.
Livie was the only one still living there with the twins away at college, Ainsley in law school, Kat living most of her time out of a tent on one of her many photo shoots and Bo in a small apartment in one of the historical buildings along the main drag of Big Timber.
Livie liked being on the ranch since she rode her horse most days. Also she liked being close to Cooper, who was the ranch’s head wrangler and horse trainer.
At the sound of his pickup, she grabbed her robe. She heard his pickup door slam and, a moment later, his insistent knock at her door. Quickly finger brushing her hair, she braced herself. She couldn’t help being half hopeful and half terrified as to what this early morning visit meant.
As she opened the door, she knew what she must look like. Like a woman who’d just awakened, her hair a mess, her face still soft from sleep—the way he’d seen her numerous times when he’d awakened next to her.
Cooper stood on the front step, a scowl on his face, until he looked at her. For a moment, something familiar flickered in his dark gaze. Desire. But that moment of weakness quickly passed. “Come on,” he said, his voice rough as if the desire had left his expression but it hadn’t gone far.
She realized he might be planning to drag her down to the sheriff’s office. She’d known Sheriff Frank Curry since she was a toddler. Her face heated at the thought of having to tell him her story. “Where are we—”
“Let’s go find the bastard. Get dressed. I’ll be waiting in the truck.” He didn’t give her a chance to speak before he turned and stalked off.
She watched him go back to his pickup, her aching need to be held by him an unbearable pain in her chest. She hadn’t even been sure she would ever see him again. But what he’d suggested, going after the blackmailer... He couldn’t be serious.
Livie hurriedly pulled on a pair of designer jeans, a light cotton rust-colored sweater and her cowboy boots. She knew she didn’t have time for makeup so she quickly brushed her teeth and her hair, dabbed on some lip gloss and left.
As she climbed into the passenger’s side of his pickup, she said, “I don’t think this is good idea.”
He cocked his head, eyeing her in a way that told her he was still furious with her and equally as hurt and disappointed. “How would you suggest we handle this?”
She didn’t dare admit that she had thought about paying the blackmailer off. She wasn’t naive. She knew that the man would try to bleed her dry. But now he had nothing to hold over her head. She’d heard her father negotiate all kinds of deals in his lifetime. Livie was sure she could make a deal so she would never hear from the man again.
But it would have meant going to her father since it was going to take more than fifty thousand dollars to be rid of him. She knew how Cooper felt about all of it so that option wasn’t on the table.
“It’s just that it could be dangerous,” she managed to say under his intent gaze.
He laughed, surprising her. “Honey, before I became the man who was to marry Olivia Hamilton, I was capable of taking care of myself. I can take care of you, too, for that matter. If you should ever decide to trust me.” With that he turned the key. The old pickup’s engine rumbled to life and he backed out, kicking up fresh gravel.
Livie bristled. She knew he thought her an overindulged debutante, but there was more to her than just being Buckmaster Hamilton’s daughter and damned if she wasn’t going to prove it to him. If he gave her the chance.
* * *
NETTIE BENTON CURRY, the new bride of Sheriff Frank Curry, had a problem that had been eating at her for days. If she didn’t talk to someone about it soon, she thought she might burst. What surprised her was that there was only one person she could tell. That seemed shocking given that she had spent most of her sixty-some years spreading gossip. She was good at it. She listened, she watched, she knew things that other people didn’t and she liked to share it.
But the one thing she’d never really had was a close friend she could confide in who would keep her secrets.
That’s why it was ironic when she realized the only person she could tell was her old nemesis, Kate LaFond. Kate, now Kate French, was a good thirty years younger than her. Not that the age difference was the problem.
When Kate had come to town, Nettie had spent