Those Texas Nights

Hell.

That wouldn’t make this visit any easier, and he got out his handkerchief and went to her. She must have heard him coming because when he was still several yards away, her head snapped up, and she immediately started wiping away the tears with the back of her hand. He spooked the cat, too, because it jetted out of there as if Clay had scalded it.

“Don’t tell Garrett,” Sophie said, moving away from the horse.

He handed her the handkerchief. “Don’t tell him what?”

She motioned toward her face. “He feels I should be over this by now, that my ex isn’t worth the tears.”

He’s not.

But Clay kept that to himself for now.

“It’s stupid,” she went on. Since she didn’t ask him why he was there, it was obvious that Sophie had some things she wanted to get off her chest. “I’m over him. I really am. And I hate him. But sometimes, things close in around me like a dark cloud, you know?”

He did know. Clay had a dark cloud of his own. One even darker than Sophie’s.

She looked at him then, her gaze connecting with his. He glanced away but not before practically getting lost in those deep blue eyes. The color of a fancy stone in an equally fancy ring.

The color of her eyes.

Until he’d seen Sophie’s, Clay had been sure there’d been only one pair of eyes like that. He’d been wrong.

“I went to the old gypsy lady who lives in the trailer just up the road,” Sophie continued. “You know about her?”

Clay nodded, made sure he didn’t make direct eye contact with Sophie. The woman’s name was Vita Banchini. She was a local legend, like Big Foot, except she supposedly doled out curses and love potions. She was also Clay’s nearest neighbor.

“Vita’s my best friend’s mom,” Sophie went on. “Mila. But if you see Mila, don’t mention I went there. Don’t mention you saw me crying, either.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Besides, he doubted Mila and he would ever have a conversation about anything, especially this. The few times he’d seen Mila at the bookstore she owned, she hadn’t spoken a word to him. Rumor had it that she was the town’s thirty-year-old virgin.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I had Vita read my palm.” Sophie groaned softly. “And she said it was over between me and my ex—that I needed to look elsewhere for the future I’ve been planning. That tells you how crazy I am to do something like that. I don’t even believe in fortune-tellers.”

She must have taken his grunt as a conversational green light because she kept talking. “Today would have been our one-month wedding anniversary. If the wedding had actually happened, that is. On top of everything else, it just got to me.”

Clay grunted again. If he kept this up, she’d think he had indigestion. Maybe social anxiety, too, what with him not actually looking her directly in the eyes.

“How is everything else?” he risked asking.

Sophie opened her mouth, maybe to give a polite “fine” answer, but it must have stuck in her throat. “I’ve avoided going into town. Gossip.” She hadn’t needed to clarify that. “And I’ve banned anyone on the property from saying my ex’s name.”

Which meant she probably hadn’t heard the news about Brantley and April’s engagement. Their temporary engagement, that is.

Clay wasn’t sure why he felt the need to come and tell her in person. This certainly wasn’t a police matter, and after the date debacle at the station, Sophie likely wanted to avoid him as much as her ex.

Or not.

That wasn’t exactly a get-lost gesture she was giving him, and just as she’d done in the police station a month ago, she launched herself into his arms. “Play along, please,” she whispered.

Clay glanced around to see what had put her up to this and soon spotted the source. Her cousin, Lawson. The lanky cowboy was making a beeline toward them. Clay knew him, of course, and vice versa. Knew plenty of gossip, too, and not just what he’d heard from Mick. Lots of people were concerned that Lawson would feel pushed out of the place he’d worked. He’d made his home in Wrangler’s Creek as well, since he and his girlfriend lived in a house just up the street from the police department.

“Chief McKinnon,” Lawson said. “Or I guess that’s still interim chief?”

“It is, but call me Clay.” They exchanged nodded greetings despite the fact that Sophie still had her arms around him.

Sophie finally stepped back, but she stayed right by Clay’s side. “My allergies are bothering me again,” she told her cousin. No doubt to explain the red eyes.

Lawson shook his head. “Bullshit. But as your older male cousin, I have a genetic responsibility to ask if the bawling is about the numb nuts whose name we’re not allowed to mention or if Clay is responsible.”

Since Lawson said Clay’s name as if he were an incurable toenail fungus, it was possible he believed the latter. Or maybe this was just more of his obligatory genetic responsibility. If so, that was good, because it meant Lawson wasn’t harboring any ill feelings about Sophie’s return to the ranch.

Of course, there was another possibility.

Even though Sophie hadn’t been into town to hear the gossip, Lawson likely had been, and Lawson’s stink eye was possibly for the part Clay had in this relationship mess. Not that Clay actually had a part in it, but maybe Sophie’s cousin thought he was guilty by genetic association.

“It’s about the numb nuts,” Sophie admitted. “But don’t tell Garrett.”

Lawson made a locked motion over his mouth and shifted his attention to Clay. “Did you really get attacked by chickens?”

Hell. Was that going to follow him around for the rest of his life? “Feral chickens,” Clay corrected.

Sophie shifted her attention to him, too. “The Penningtons didn’t take those hens with them when they sold the place?”

“No.” Clay could say that with absolute certainty. They were there and in the attack mode whenever they saw him. Something he’d never admit. His manhood had already taken a nosedive because of the little bastards.

“Heard, too, that you were renovating the place,” Lawson went on.

Yet another pride-reducing topic that Clay wanted to avoid. He settled for a nod.

“When you’re done with your visit,” Lawson said to Sophie, “Garrett wants to see you. He’s in the barn right now, but he needs to go over some business stuff. Heads up, though—he’s not in a good mood. Paperwork,” he added.

Sophie made a sound of agreement. “Garrett hates paperwork,” she explained to Clay. “Actually, he hates anything that requires a desk. And pens. Computers, too.”

Strange, considering Garrett was the CEO of a business. But in a way, that didn’t really surprise Clay. The few times he’d seen Sophie’s brother, Garrett had looked more like a ranch hand than the boss. Plus, even before their financial mess, Garrett had actually spent plenty of time here. Unlike Sophie.

“Take your time before you see Garrett,” Lawson went on. “Get your allergies under control first.”

She nodded. Huffed.

“By business stuff he means cows,” Sophie said when Lawson strolled away. “Lawson normally runs the day-to-day operation of the ranch, but things are far from normal right now. Apparently, we’re buying a big herd of cows with money from our trust funds. Long story,” she grumbled.

From what Clay had heard it wasn’t that long. Sophie and Garrett needed an income, and the ranch would provide that if they worked it as it should be worked, that is. A ranch meant livestock. While it was a subject that interested him, he’d already wasted enough time on small talk and catching up. Best to go ahead and tell Sophie the reason for his visit.

However, once again she spoke before he could say anything. “I owe you two apologies. One for the hug a month ago and another for the one I just gave you.”

He lifted his shoulder. “No apology needed, but FYI, I don’t think the hugs are convincing anyone that we’re together.”

“Probably not.” She glanced up at him. “But thank you for coming out here to check on me. After the fool I made of myself, I figured you’d want to keep your distance.”