Cowboy to the Rescue

“Lucky dog,” Olivia replied. “None of this sounds like work to me. I’ve always wanted to visit a big working ranch—just to see if those cowboys look as good in the rough as they do in pictures.”

Christina bit back a sigh. She should be thanking God for this cushy job, which had virtually fallen into her lap, but this morning she wasn’t at all convinced that she should be here. Not because she doubted her ability to find the cause of Paul’s questionable death, but more because of the impact Lex Saddler was having upon her. She couldn’t get the man out of her head.

“Believe me, Ollie, this case is not exactly simple. I’m going to have my work cut out for me.”

“So you don’t know how long you’ll be staying on the ranch?”

She began to draw a horse, then a man wearing a pair of chaps. “No longer than necessary. I want to wrap this thing up as quickly as possible.”

There was a long pause, and she could hear a frown in Olivia’s voice when the other woman finally spoke.

“Is anything wrong? I’ve never heard you talk this way before. Normally, you’re happily willing to invest whatever time it takes to wrap up a job.”

Christina glanced at the open door to the office while wondering if any of the maids or family members might be within earshot. To be on the safe side, she lowered her voice to nearly a whisper. “Ollie, I’m just not comfortable here. Ms. Saddler’s son is not at all what I expected. In fact, he’s been—quite a shock.”

“Oh?” Olivia sounded intrigued. “What’s wrong with the man?”

Christina pressed the fingertips of her right hand to her forehead. She’d hardly gotten four hours of sleep last night, and the lack of rest was already catching up to her. “If you don’t count single, sexy and flirtatious as problems, then he’s okay. I thought he was going to be a businessman, Ollie. And he is—but he’s not exactly the desk sort. He’s a cowboy. He wears boots and spurs and gets sweaty and dusty just like the other cowhands.”

Olivia chuckled. “My, oh my, that sounds like a handful of assets to me.”

Christina rolled her eyes. “You would think so. But I’m trying to keep my mind on business.”

The other woman let out a disapproving groan. “You always have business on your mind. Maybe this—what’s his name?”

Christina smiled in spite of herself. “Lex. His name is Lex Saddler.”

“Maybe this Lex will remind you that you’re a young, beautiful woman ready for a new man in your life.”

Christina didn’t know if she’d ever be ready for another man, but she wasn’t going to waste time rehashing the old argument with her dear friend.

“I’ve got a ton of work to get started on, Ollie. I’ll see you later in the week. I think I’ve got a handle on your missing witness, so I might be able to give you his definite whereabouts then.”

“Great. We’ll talk more when you get back to the city. But before you hang up just remember this—Mr. Lex Saddler isn’t a police officer.”

Christina grimaced. Olivia ought to know there wasn’t any need for her to bring up good-time, no-commitment Mike. A woman didn’t ever forget a mistake like him.

“As if that makes any difference,” Christina said dryly, then quickly told her friend goodbye and folded the cell phone together.

In the back of the house, Lex was in the kitchen, dancing Cook across the tiled floor as an old country song played on the radio.

“What are you doing here in the kitchen again?” Cook, demanded. “You’ve already had your breakfast. You should be down at the cattle pens.”

He twirled the aging but agile woman beneath his arm. “Yeah, I should be. Matt had to pull Lester off the fence building crew to take up my slack ‘cause I’ve got other duties this morning,” he said with a grimace. “I’ve told Mom that I don’t want her fretting over Dad’s case, so I’m going to be dealing with it and Ms. Logan. And this morning, she needs my assistance.”

Cook’s sly smile spread her ruby-red lips. “Ms. Logan, eh? Well, that ought to make you a happy man. So why aren’t you smilin’, and why are you wastin’ time in here with me?”

He grinned. “What man wouldn’t want to start out his day dancing with his sweetheart?”

She snorted. “I’ve known plenty.”

Lex chuckled. “Then they weren’t worth knowing.”

Cook pinched his shoulder. “Be serious and talk to me.”

Her order came just as the song ended, so he led the woman over to a long pine table bracketed with benches made of the same wood. After she was seated, he poured two cups of coffee and carried them over to the table.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush, Hattie, I’ll come right out and say that I think Mom has slipped a cog. Or that damned senator has brainwashed her!”

Clearly disgusted with his analogy, she said, “What are you talkin’ about? Geraldine is as sharp as a tack.”

He eased down next to her. “Hattie, when she first talked to me about hiring a private investigator, I wasn’t wild about digging into Dad’s death. But I could see the whole thing was important to her, so I went along with her wishes. If Dad’s death wasn’t an accident, then we need to know it. But last night…well, I got the impression from Mom that she’s doing all of this just to prove to Wolfe Maddson that the Saddler family doesn’t have any hidden skeletons that could come out and hurt his political career. I’ll tell you one thing, Hattie. If that man thinks my mother has to present a clean background to him before he’ll walk down the aisle with her, then he’s gonna be knocked on his ass, and I’m going to be the one doing the knocking!”

Impatient with his attitude, Cook merely looked at him and shook her head. “So what if that’s Geraldine’s motive? You can use this opportunity to prove to Wolfe Maddson that your father was the honorable man everyone believed him to be. It’ll make the man see that if he plans to keep your mother as happy as Paul did, then he’s got big, big boots to fill.” Her features softened as she laid a hand on his shoulder. “Besides, it won’t be no skin off your hide to work with a pretty thing like Ms. Logan. She seems awfully sweet to me.”

A wry grin spread slowly across Lex’s face. “Yeah. But you’ve always told me that too many sweets were bad for my health.”

Patting his cheek, she gave him a wink. “Yes, but that’s the thing about you, boy. You like being bad.”

Five minutes later, as Lex walked out of the kitchen and headed to Christina’s temporary office, he thought about Cook’s comment. Like the rest of his friends and family, she considered him a ladies’ man, a guy who worked hard but played even harder. None of them understood that most of his flirtatious behavior was just a cover, that his frequent dates were only attempts to fill the lonely holes inside him.

Both his sisters were married now. Nicci, the oldest, had a new daughter, and Mercedes, his younger sister, had announced a few weeks ago that she and her husband, Gabe, were expecting their first child. All three of his cousins also had loving spouses and growing families. Lex was the only unmarried relative left in the Saddler and Sanchez bunch, unless he counted Cook, his mother and his uncle Mingo. But who knew? By the end of the year, even the old folks would probably have lifelong partners.

What are you whining about, Lex? If you wanted to be married that badly, you wouldn’t be so particular. You’d settle for a woman you liked, a woman who’d be a good wife, instead of waiting for that one precious love to come along and wham you in the heart.

Pushing those pestering notions out of his head, Lex knocked lightly on the open door, then stepped into the room.

Christina was sitting behind a large oak desk, blackrimmed reading glasses perched on the end of her nose as she studied a paper filled with typed text.

Lifting her head, she smiled at him. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, yourself.” Moving over to the desk, he leaned a hip against the edge. “Cook tells me you’ve already had breakfast.”

She glanced at a small silver watch on her left wrist. “About an hour ago. What about you?”

He smiled with amusement. “About three hours ago.”

Laying the paper aside, she leaned back in her chair. Lex couldn’t prevent his eyes from drinking their fill. She was dressed casually this morning in an aqua-colored shirt and a pair of jeans. Her fiery hair was pulled into a ponytail, which made her look more like twenty-three than thirty-three, the age his mother had disclosed about the private investigator.

“You must be an early riser,” she commented.

“It’s a rancher’s necessity,” he told her. “If he plans to get things done.”

She smiled wanly. “And I’m going to assume that you’re a man who gets things done.”

Was she making fun of him? It didn’t matter. She was a city girl. She didn’t know about his sort of life. Or him.

“When I try,” he drawled. He pointed to the paper she’d been reading. “Is that something about my father’s case?”