Quick-Draw Cowboy

“Don’t be so pious, Dani. This little business setup you have here didn’t come cheap. You didn’t pay for it with pocket change.”

“No, which is why I’m up to my eyeballs in debt.” Not that it was any of his business.

“Don’t try to pull one on over me. I’ve had all of that I’m putting up with. I know how much the payoff was. By my estimates, even after you paid for the bakery and the lawyers took their share, I figure you have at least a couple of million dollars left. I deserve all of that, but to show you what a nice man I am, I’ll settle for a mere million. In cash. In one week.”

“You...” Dani bit back the words she wanted to hurl at him. They wouldn’t phase a lowlife like him. Yet she could easily believe he would have gotten Amber pregnant and then abandoned her and the baby.

Amber had been a stunning beauty before her addiction took its toll, just as James Haggard said. She’d had long auburn hair that fell in loose curls about her shoulders, gorgeous amber-colored eyes, lush eyelashes and a dynamite body.

Amber had always been the pretty sister. Everyone had said it. The comments had cut Dani to the quick when they were growing up. That hadn’t changed the fact that she worshipped her older sister.

Now it was Constance who mattered more than anything.

“Even if you are Constance’s father—which I seriously doubt—you’re wrong about the insurance money. It’s all in a trust fund for Constance and can’t be touched until she turns twenty-one.”

“Yet you found a way to get your greedy little hands on it,” the man snarled. “And you can cut the pretense. We both know you have at least a copy of the birth certificate that lists me as the father.”

She shook her head. She’d had enough. “You’re wrong. Now get out. And stay away from here. If you show up again, I’ll call the sheriff and press harassment charges.”

He glared at her, his eyes dark and penetrating, and it was almost as if she could feel a bizarre mix of evil and madness fighting for his soul.

Chills ran up her spine, but she stood her ground. She pointed to the door. “Out. Now.”

“I’m leaving, but I’ll be back next week for the stacks. If you don’t have all the big ones, I’ll not only file for paternal custody, but have you prosecuted for stealing my daughter’s money. Is that what you want?”

“You won’t have a prayer of getting custody without proof of paternity. Bluffing won’t help you. DNA won’t lie for you.”

“DNA won’t have to lie. In the meantime, take care of my beloved daughter.” He smiled at his own sarcastic quip, turned and walked away.

Anger and dread left Dani shaking. This was blackmail, plain and simple. A scam. A bluff. James Haggard’s name was not on the birth certificate.

But what if a paternity test proved he was Constance’s father? Was there a judge alive who’d actually take a child who’d been through what Constance had suffered and rip her from this safe, secure life, where she was loved?

Would any judge grant custody to a man who’d abandoned his child and her addicted mother years before? Wouldn’t a judge realize that Haggard was in this strictly to find a way to get at Constance’s trust fund?

But then, crazier things happened in the court system every day.

“I’ve told you the insurance is in an untouchable trust and there’s no way I can come up with the amount of money you’re talking about.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to do that myself—once I have custody of Constance.” He started to the door, then turned and pointed at her as if he was pulling a trigger. “Next Friday. Before noon.”

She waited until she heard the front door slam behind Haggard before she walked over and locked the door behind him.

She looked out the huge front window and stared at the dance of light and shadows beneath the antique streetlights. Winding Creek was the ideal, small Texas town. Friendly. Safe.

A place where Constance could heal from the ordeals she’d endured living with Amber and her addictions. A home where she felt protected and loved after years of neglect and frequent abandonment by her own mother. That had been the deciding factor in Dani’s going into debt to open her own bakery here.

James Haggard had shattered that illusion.

Dani went back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up. The cake she’d worked hours on meant nothing to her as Haggard’s vicious threats echoed through her mind.

She was not convinced he was Constance’s father, but she was certain he’d told the truth about at least one thing.

He would be back.

Chapter Two (#ubff44259-7ca8-5502-955e-235c7d34c854)

Ten o’clock on Saturday in downtown Winding Creek, Texas. Not just any Saturday. This was the date Riley Lawrence’s older brother, Pierce, was giving marriage a second chance. Sounded downright crazy to Riley. He’d never had the guts to tie the knot even once and didn’t plan to remedy that any time soon.

Riley figured it was too early for a beer even though he’d been driving since five that morning after a few hours of restless sleep. The motel bed had left a lot to be desired in the way of comfort.

Not that comfort mattered all that much to him. He’d slept under the stars many a night with no more than a rolled-up jacket for a pillow.

He turned onto Main Street. He’d expected at least a fleeting sensation that he was home again. Didn’t happen. The town looked almost exactly the same as when he’d lived here until just before his fifteenth birthday. It also looked completely different.

Perspective changed everything.

When he’d lived here, Winding Creek was all he really knew. Now he’d seen most of the country, at least the parts of it he was interested in seeing. Any place he hung his Stetson was home.

He should probably just keep driving and head straight to the Double K Ranch, but as eager as he was to see his brothers, he wasn’t quite ready to dive into wedding chaos. He definitely wasn’t eager to start hiding his doubts about Pierce’s decision to jump into the fire again.

He pulled his old black pickup truck into a parking spot, got out and stretched. The antique streetlights were familiar. So were the buildings. Even a few old hitching posts were still scattered along the curb.

The storefronts were a different story. The old Texaco station was now a sandwich shop. The barbershop where he’d gotten his hair cut as a kid was now a candle shop. Who’d have guessed you needed a separate shop to buy candles?

He glanced at the signs. An ice-cream parlor. A Christmas store. A toy shop. Even a jewelry store. Practically a shopping mecca compared to where he’d been living in Montana.

He caught a whiff of coffee and followed the scent to a bakery. Dani’s Delights. The cookies, scones and cupcakes displayed in the window looked incredible, but it was the aroma of the day’s grind that lured him in.

The dozen or so tables in the place were all taken. The line to order was at least ten people deep. He wasn’t sure any cup of coffee was worth that kind of wait.

Easy to see the problem. There was only one person to take orders, collect money and mix the fancy coffee drinks. The woman behind the counter looked a bit harried and her smile was clearly forced.

He continued to study her as he stepped into the line. A full head shorter than his six foot two. Heart-shaped face. Cute upturned nose. A mass of wild cinnamon-colored curls that hugged her cheeks.

Maybe her coffee was worth waiting in line for after all. Marriage and commitment might scare him half to death, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the company of a vivacious woman every now and then.

Women were in short supply on the ranch where he’d been living in Montana. Available women were nonexistent.

Riley inched up when the line moved and glanced around the small shop. He recognized Dan Dupree, who was sitting in the back with who were probably his grandkids. Dan and his wife had been friends of Riley’s parents before their fatal car accident.

Mrs. Maclean, Riley’s ninth-grade English teacher, was at another table with two women he didn’t recognize. Neither Dan nor Mrs. Maclean showed any sign of recognizing him.

Fortunately, he’d changed from the skinny, awkward, pimpled teenager he’d been last time he lived in Winding Creek. He’d added a few inches in height and muscled up a bit.

The door opened and four more people squeezed in and joined the line.

A freckle-faced kid with braided red hair, eyeglasses and cut-off jeans ran noisily down some back stairs that led into the bakery. She maneuvered around the sign at the foot of the stairs that read Private. Do Not Enter. Prancing like a showy filly, she made her way across the shop.