Beneath the Stetson. Janice Maynard
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steps, he opened the door, refusing to acknowledge that his heart beat faster than normal. The first time he met her, they had faced each other across a desk at Royal’s police station. Even then he’d felt a potent mix of sexual hunger and resentment. But Bailey was on his turf now. He’d be calling the shots. She might think her credentials gave her power, but he was not prepared to accept them at face value.
* * *
Bailey caught her toe on the edge of the top step and stumbled, almost falling flat on her face. Fortunately, she regained her balance at the last second, because in the midst of her gyrations the door flew open, and a man she recognized all too well stood framed in the doorway.
Gil Addison.
Even as she acknowledged the jolt to her chest, she was taken aback by the presence of a second male. The man for whom she felt an unwelcome but visceral attraction was not alone. He held the hand of a small boy, most likely—according to Gil’s dossier—his son. Even without written verification, she could have guessed the relationship. The young one was practically a carbon copy of his older counterpart.
The child broke free of his father’s hold and stepped forward to beam at Bailey. “Welcome to the Straight Arrow,” he said, holding out his hand with poignant maturity. His gap-toothed smile was infectious. “I’m Cade.”
Bailey squatted, holding out her hand, as well, feeling the warmth of the small palm as it nestled briefly in hers. “Hello, Cade,” she said. “I’m Bailey.”
“Ms. Collins,” Gil corrected with a slight frown. “I’m trying to teach him manners.”
“It’s not bad manners to use my first name if I offer the privilege,” Bailey said evenly, rising to face the man who had already given her sleepless nights.
Cade looked back and forth between the two adults. The thinly veiled antagonism between them was unfortunate, because Cade seemed first confused and then unhappy. The boy’s chin wobbled. “I wanted my dad to like you,” he whispered, staring up at Bailey with huge blue eyes that must have come from his mother.
Bailey’s heart melted. “Your dad and I like each other just fine,” she told Cade, daring Gil to disagree. “Sometimes grown-ups get frustrated about things, but that doesn’t mean we’re angry.” Even as an adult of thirty-three, she remembered vague impressions of her parents arguing. Yelling. Saying wretched, bitter words that couldn’t be unheard.
Bailey knew what it was like to be a child with no power to shape the course of events. It was because she did understand Cade’s dismay, that she summoned an almost-genuine smile and aimed it in Gil’s direction. “Thank you for seeing me today. If we can sit down for a few moments, I promise not to take up too much of your time.”
With Cade standing squarely in between them, there was nothing for Gil to do but agree. He ruffled his son’s hair, love for his child and wry capitulation in his gaze as he spoke. “Why don’t you join us in the kitchen, Ms. Collins? Cade and I usually have lemonade and a snack right about now.”
“You may as well call me Bailey, too,” she muttered, not sure if he heard her or not. She followed the two of them back through the house to the historic but updated kitchen. Gil had taken over the property from his parents when they retired and settled in Austin. The senior Addisons had inherited the Straight Arrow from Gil’s grandparents. The ranch, whose name ironically described its owner to a T, was an enormous operation.
Four years ago when Gil’s wife committed suicide, Gil had hired an army of extra ranch hands and housekeepers, so he could be the primary caregiver for his toddler son. Bailey knew the facts of the situation because she had investigated the man...and admired him for his devotion. But that didn’t make her any more forgiving of the way he had stonewalled her in their earlier interviews. Even though her file on Gil Addison was thorough and extensive, she was no closer to understanding the man himself.
Cade pulled out a chair for Bailey, sealing the deal. The kid was irresistible. Clearly Gil was not kidding when he mentioned teaching manners. Something about witnessing the boy’s interaction with his father made Bailey’s assessment of Gil shift and refocus. Surely a man who could be so caring and careful with a child was not all bad.
Bailey’s own exposure to male parenting was more like a metaphorical slap up the side of the head. Toe the line. Don’t complain. Achieve. Be self-sufficient. Even the most generous assessment of her father’s motives left no room for seeing him as anything other than a bully and a tyrant—presumably the reason Bailey’s mother had walked out, leaving her young daughter behind.
Bailey sat down somewhat self-consciously, and placed her cell phone on the table. While Gil busied himself retrieving glasses from the pine cabinets and slicing apples to go along with peanut butter, Cade grilled Bailey. “Do you have any good games on your phone?”
His hopeful expression made her grin. “A few.”
“Angry Birds?”
“Yes. Are you any good at it?”
Cade shot a glance at his dad and lowered his voice. “He thinks that too much time with electronics will make me...um...” Clearly searching for the desired word, Cade trailed off, his brow furrowed.
“Brain dead.” Gil set the glasses on the table and returned with the plate of apples. Taking a chair directly across from Bailey, he sat down and turned his son’s hand over, palm up. The little fingers were grimy. “Go wash up, Cade. Ms. Collins and I will wait for you.”
When Cade disappeared down the hall to the bathroom, Bailey smiled. “He’s wonderful. And unexpectedly mature for a four-year-old.”
“He’ll be five soon. He didn’t have too many opportunities to be around other children until I began bringing him to the daycare center at the club occasionally, so that accounts for the adult conversation. As much as I’ll miss him, I think it will be good for him to start kindergarten this fall.”
Bailey cocked her head. “I may have misjudged you, Gil Addison. I think you do have a heart.”
“Don’t confuse parental love for weakness, Ms. Collins. I won’t be manipulated into helping you take down one of my friends.”
The sudden attack startled her. Gil’s classic features were set in grim lines, any trace of softness gone. “You really don’t trust me at all, do you?” she asked, her voice husky with regret at this evidence of his animosity.
“I don’t trust your kind,” he clarified, his tone terse. “Alex Santiago was kidnapped, but now he’s been found. Sooner or later he’ll get his memory back and be able to tell us who took him. Why can’t you people drop it and leave us here in Royal to clean up our own messes?”
Bailey glanced toward the hallway, realizing that Cade could return at any moment. “Surely you’re not that naive,” she said quietly. “Because Alex has no memory of what happened to him, trouble could strike again at any time. We have no choice but to track down his abductors. Surely you can see that.”
“What I don’t see is why you think anyone I know is responsible.”
“Alex was well-liked in Royal, though obviously he had at least one enemy. You know a lot of people. Somewhere in the midst of all that I hope to find the truth. It’s my job, Gil. And I’m good at it. All I need is your help.”
Cade popped into the room, the front of his shirt damp from his ablutions. “I’m really hungry,” he said. At a nod from his father, he scooped up two apple slices and started eating.
As Bailey watched, Gil offered her a piece and took one himself. His sharp white teeth bit into the fruit with a crunch. She tried to eat, but the food stuck in her throat. She needed Gil on her side. And she needed him to trust her. Perhaps that would require time.
Biting her lip, she put down her uneaten snack and tried the lemonade instead. As father and son chatted about mundane matters, she strove for composure. Usually it took a lot to rattle her. But for some reason, winning Gil’s approval was important.