Texas Rose. Marie Ferrarella

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СКАЧАТЬ said. With that, she turned on her heel, leaving the other members of her family looking at one another in mute surprise and confusion.

      “In a real short amount of time, Rosie’s gotten to be a very contrary girl,” Archy muttered more to himself than to the others at the table. “Even when she’s doing what you think you want her to.” He shook his head. “Just like her mother.”

      “What the hell’s gotten into you?” Flynt Carson asked as he stormed into the stables. He looked at his younger brother, waiting for a response.

      He didn’t like the one he got.

      Matt continued cleaning his tack. He’d been doing it for the past hour. It beat running his Jeep into the ground. Matt rubbed a narrow edge on the saddle. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      Flynt glossed over the denial as if it’d never been spoken. He’d watched his even-tempered brother grow progressively surlier with each passing day for the past two weeks. Something was definitely going on.

      “Hell, you never were a sweet-tempered kind of guy, but these days, if I were a stray dog or small child, I’d stay out of your way before you kicked me.”

      Matt snorted. “Wise thought.” He stopped to pick up another cloth.

      Flynt placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, forcing him to stop and look at him.

      “Something’s bothering you.”

      Matt knew Flynt meant well, but this wasn’t something he could share. Not with any of them. He shrugged off his brother’s hand and went back to polishing the tack. He was starting to wear the leather away. “Nothing I want to talk about.”

      Flynt repositioned himself so that he was in Matt’s line of vision. “Maybe so, but the rest of us are getting caught in the fallout of that less-than-sweet disposition of yours and we’re not going to take it for long.”

      Matt arched a brow in his brother’s direction. “Then stay out of my way.”

      “Not always possible.” As a rule, Flynt didn’t meddle. But family meant bending rules. “Look, if it’s about a woman—”

      Matt looked at him sharply, the stilled cloth hanging in his hand. “What makes you think it’s a woman?”

      He’d hit a nerve, Flynt thought. The rumors about his younger brother and a so-called mystery woman were true, after all. Compassion nudged at him.

      “I know the signs. Nothing like a woman to scramble up your insides worse than two eggs tossed into a blender. Way I see it, a fella’s got only a handful of choices—you either marry her, put her in her place, or forget about her.” And then, because the situation was a difficult one, Flynt added, “But do one of those things before the rest of us decide to form a lynch mob and put you out of our misery.”

      Matt tossed the cloth aside and sighed. “It’s not that simple.”

      There was sympathy in Flynt’s dark eyes. “I’m listening.”

      Matt was tempted, but he knew it would be a mistake. The affair had begun in secrecy and they’d both been aware of the consequences. “I’m not talking.”

      Flynt lost his temper. “Damn it, when did you get this obstinate?”

      Matt bent to pick up the cloth again. He had to keep busy, even doing mindless chores. “Runs in the family.”

      “There’s not going to be a family if we have to kill you.” The smile faded. It looked as if his asocial brother had fallen and fallen hard. Why else would he be agonizing this way? This mystery woman of his had to be something else again. “Really, Matt, if it’s serious enough to have you this chewed up inside, then maybe you should try to untangle whatever differences you’ve come up with and make peace with her.”

      Matt laughed shortly. “There’s peace, all right. She dumped me.”

      Flynt looked at him, dumbfound. “Dumped you? You mean she has taste?” He slipped his arm around Matt’s shoulders in a silent show of camaraderie. “Sorry, that just came out. Then maybe you’re better off without her.”

      “That’s what I’ve been trying to convince myself.” And he wasn’t getting anywhere. All he could think about was Rose.

      “Haven’t been having much luck, I take it?”

      Matt sighed. “None at all. I think about her and my insides pinch.”

      Flynt nodded. He’d been at the same junction himself and knew how awful it could be. “That’s either love, or you’ve been buying your underwear a size too small.”

      “Real nice, Flynt. Maybe the ladies church group will embroider that on some kitchen towels.”

      “Look, it’s easy enough to confuse lust with that other L-word that’s hard for us Carsons to say. Give it some time. If it’s the first, it’ll blow over. If it’s the second, it’ll get worse.”

      Matt’s eyes met his brother’s. “It already is worse.”

      He’d always been the straightforward one. “Then what are you doing sitting here talking to me? Go and tell her. Who is she, by the way?”

      He didn’t know if Flynt was being clever, or just asking. In either case, Matt couldn’t tell him. He sighed and shook his head.

      “Okay, don’t tell me. But do something about it because, like I said, little brother, your days are numbered if you don’t find that sunny disposition of yours again.” Above everything, Flynt knew when to back off. He crossed to the stable entrance and then paused to add, “Just a word to the wise.”

      Matt said nothing. He was back to polishing his tack. And wishing he’d never set foot in that damn library and set his heart on the librarian. He should have stuck to cattle.

      Two

      “Well, good news, Harrison,” Ben Ashton announced, sticking his head into the local district attorney’s office after the latter had offered an absently voiced, “Come in.”

      D.A. Spence Harrison’s relaxed demeanor immediately disappeared. The private investigator wasn’t stopping by to exchange thoughts about a case coming to trial, he was here on a far more personal matter. A matter that had involved Spence and three of his closest friends, all because they’d had the unfortunate luck of being on the ninth tee of the Lone Star Country Club golf course the Sunday that the baby had been discovered.

      Spence and his friends found the baby, crying and wet from a recent christening by the course’s sprinkling system. The chance watering had inadvertently all but obliterated the note that had been pinned to the baby’s blanket, a note that had, from all appearances, been addressed to the baby’s father.

      Because it was known that they frequently played at this time, they’d each been held suspect as the baby’s father. The best way he knew of to eliminate suspicion, though, was voluntary DNA testing. Flynt Carson had decided that he needed to be the one to care for the baby. Child Protective Services had taken his DNA first and run it by a lab. Flynt wasn’t the father.

      Unwilling СКАЧАТЬ