Lone Star Blues. Delores Fossen

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      That was another bad sign.

      He went into the bathroom, took a quick shower, and after he dressed, he headed downstairs to go all Sherlock Holmes and look for clues. He soon found one, too. The housekeeper, Marylou Culver, was in the hall heading toward his room, and she had a heap of women’s clothes gathered up in her arms. Dylan saw a devil-red lace bra and what appeared to be a strappy black dress. Two equally strappy silver shoes dangled from Marylou’s fingers. Since Marylou was in her sixties and usually dressed like a 1950s schoolteacher, the clothing probably didn’t belong to her.

      “Uh, these things were on the stairs and on the front porch,” Marylou said. “I’m guessing you have...company.”

      It was no guess, and Marylou’s slightly disapproving look told him that. The woman had only worked at the ranch for a month or so, but Dylan knew his reputation preceded him. It wasn’t the first time a housekeeper had found women’s clothes on the stairs. Or even the porch. And that kind of information wouldn’t have stayed secret for long in a small town like Wrangler’s Creek.

      “There was a pair of panties, as well,” Marylou went on, “but the dog got to them before I could.”

      Great. The dog was Booger, the persnickety Yorkie that his mom had left at the ranch while she went to a yoga retreat in Costa Rica. Booger had failed multiple obedience programs, and he was finicky about what food touched his mouth. Everything else was fair game, though. Manure-caked boots, table legs, toilet paper. He’d probably chewed the panties to shreds by now.

      “How did the dog get out of the house?” he asked.

      “Beats me. Maybe he got out when you and the naked woman came in.”

      That was possible. After all, if he couldn’t remember the woman, then he might not have noticed a dog the size of his foot making an escape. “Was there a purse or wallet with the clothes?”

      Marylou shook her head. “I can keep looking, though. What do you want me to do with these?” She tipped her head to the clothes.

      “Just put them outside my bedroom door for now.” Best not to have Marylou actually witness the bare butt for herself. She already had enough gossip to fuel the town for a week or two.

      Dylan started down the stairs on a mission to find some strong coffee, the naked woman’s ID and perhaps a large rock that he could use to hit himself on the head for drinking too much.

      “Oh, and your brother wants to see you,” Marylou added. “He’s not in a very good mood.”

      Before she’d tacked on that last part, he was about to ask which brother, but Lucian was the most qualified for the bad mood award. That meant Dylan would avoid him. At least until he’d tanked up on coffee and got the naked woman clothed and wherever she should be.

      He made a beeline for the kitchen, hoping it was empty. No such luck. But at least it wasn’t Lucian, Booger or another naked woman. However, it was a female.

      Lucian’s assistant, Karlee O’Malley.

      She was pouring herself some coffee, but she took one look at him and handed him the quart-sized mug that’d been meant for her. “Are you already regretting the vow of celibacy you took last night?” Karlee asked.

      Since Dylan had been in midmumble to thank her, it took him a moment to hear what she’d said. As bad as he needed the coffee—and he needed it—he didn’t gulp any down just so he could say, “Wh-what?”

      Karlee whipped out her phone from her pocket and pulled up a video. Of him.

      “I, Dylan Granger,” he slurred on the video, “do hereby take a vow of celibacy for the next month.” He’d only pronounced two of those words correctly. “No form of sex whatsoever. If I fail, then I agree to carry out the donation.”

      “I’m guessing lots of alcohol was involved in this,” Karlee said. It wasn’t a question. “Especially since you sent it to me shortly after midnight.”

      Oh yes, alcohol had been involved. He’d been drunk, and Lucian hadn’t been, which meant his turd-head brother had likely been the one to come up with this stupid idea.

      “Do you remember doing this?” Karlee pressed.

      Unfortunately, he did. Now that his head was clearing some, more of what’d happened was coming back to him. But it was coming back as impaired, jumbled memories that Dylan wasn’t especially eager to remember.

      “The last time you got drunk was what...three years ago?” Karlee went on. “That’s when you ended up staying in a hotel in San Antonio, and you called me to come and get you. You didn’t remember much of anything then.”

      He had indeed ended up in a hotel after a party and had called Karlee the morning after when he couldn’t find his truck. But that hadn’t been because of tequila shots but rather a bad reaction to some prescription cold meds. The pills had knocked him on his butt.

      “What’s the donation?” Karlee, again. Her forehead bunched up. “It’s not like to a sperm bank, is it?”

      No, thank God. This didn’t involve anything that would require him to lower his zipper. “Fifty grand to be donated to the Wrangler’s Creek Charity Rodeo.”

      Karlee’s mouth quivered as she fought back a smile. She lost that fight. Smiled. Then, she laughed. And she kept on laughing until Dylan glared at her.

      “Sorry,” she mumbled, but she was clearly still trying to hold back a giggle. “But you’ve never come close to lasting a month. What will the rodeo committee do with all that extra money?”

      Dylan wanted to believe that was a dilemma that the committee would never face, but Karlee was right. He’d never lasted that long. Still, it was probably time he took on this challenge. Time he gave up booze completely, too.

      “Where’s Lucian?” Dylan asked after he got some more coffee in him.

      “He’s here at the house, in his office.” Karlee checked the time on her phone. “He wants to see you, but he’ll be leaving in about a half hour for San Antonio.”

      There was nothing unusual about any of those three things she’d just told him. Lucian only lived part-time at the ranch, which meant he was always coming and going. Though there’d likely be no going today until he’d seen Dylan. Which was fine because now that he had seen the video and had some coffee, Dylan wanted to confront his big brother about what part he’d played in that vow.

      “When I came in earlier, I saw what appeared to be bits and pieces of a pair of shredded red panties by the back porch,” Karlee added. “Should I ask about them?”

      “Only if you can tell me who they belong to.” He saw the concern flash through her eyes so he added, “There’s a naked woman in my bedroom.”

      The concern vanished, and she had a fight with another smile. “Your celibacy didn’t last long.”

      “I think it did. I woke up like this.” He fanned his hands over his fully clothed body, and then pointed to his closed zipper.

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