A Haunted Twist of Fate (2 page)

“Quite. The building inspector went over the entire
building with a fine-toothed comb. This place is as secure as a bank vault.”

“Sure. I remember reading the inspector’s report.
Since everything seems to be in order here, I’ll be on my way. I apologize for
waking you.” He touched a finger to the brim of his Stetson and turned to
leave. Then he snapped his fingers. “There’s some paperwork I forgot to give
you today at the closing. Would you like to meet me for breakfast in the
morning? I could give it to you then.”

Could that be true? For the second time, Shay
wondered if the story about the water had been some kind of excuse. Maybe he’d
taken a liking to her at the closing and had simply wanted to see her again. Although
she had sworn off men, she was flattered if that was the case.  But waking her
at midnight was probably not the smartest way to get on her good side. Colt was
the only person she knew in town, and eating alone was starting to get old, so
she decided to accept his invitation.

“That’ll be nice. I’ve been going stag for a long
time.”

“I wasn’t sure if you knew anyone in town yet. We
can meet at the Golden Spike diner. It’s right here on Main Street, down a
block.”

“I know it.”

“They make the best blueberry pancakes in town. Do you
like blueberry pancakes?”

“Sure.  What time should we meet?”

He glanced at his watch. “How does eight o’clock
sound?”

“Eight works.”

He grinned again.  “Good night. Once more, I’m sorry
for bothering you.”

“No problem. It’s nice to know people look out for
each other here. You don’t find that so much where I come from. Good night.”

She watched him saunter to his pickup and admired
the snug way his Levis fit his long legs and cupped his backside. As the truck
pulled away from the curb, a hand shot out the window and waved. Shay waved
back.  Then she closed the door and locked it securely behind her.

As she crept past the tables and started up the
stairs, she stopped and turned. The aroma of sweet cigar smoke tickled her
nose, and she could swear she heard the faint sound of shuffling cards echo through
the room.

Three

As he drove home from the Buckhorn, Colt recalled
how rattled that caller had been. He’d thought the story of water running out
from under the door of the saloon to be believable, considering how old the place
was. That’s why he’d rushed right over. One of those ancient pipes could bust
at any time, no matter what the inspector had told Shay. The second part of the
story was what had him flummoxed. The guy had also vowed he’d seen a woman in
white standing in the second floor window.  But Shay wasn’t wearing white. The
man had thought it was a ghost.

Normally, Colt would have laughed that one off.  But
the call had woken him
from a strange dream he’d been having, where he’d pictured a strangling in one
of the upstairs rooms of the saloon.  He’d recognized the room from when he’d
listed the property. For some unexplainable reason, he’d awakened knowing that
room was the same one his client, Shay Brennan, was sleeping in tonight.

The dream had seemed so real and like nothing he’d ever
experienced before. In fact, when the phone had jingled, he’d jolted up in bed
and realized he’d been coated in a cold sweat.

The call had been a peculiar coincidence, but it’d
turned out to be a convenient excuse for Colt to go over and check on Shay and
make sure she was okay. Although he was rarely afraid of anything, the dream
had spooked him.

Halting the truck at a red light, he recalled the
look on her face when she opened the door to him. She could have cussed him out
for waking her in the middle of the night. He would have deserved it if she
had, even if he’d only been trying to do the right thing. She must have
realized that, because she’d been obliging and good-natured, even as he offered
her what now seemed like a lame story for stopping by.

Colt realized he hadn’t even taken down the caller’s
name, just jumped in the truck and driven to the Buckhorn. Guess he’d never
know who’d been pulling his leg, or why. But better some midnight joke than a
saloon full of water, even if he didn’t cotton to being roused from bed at that
hour.

“You’re listening to KPOC93.1, and that was Carrie
Underwood singing ‘Angel Take the Wheel,’” the D.J. on the radio said. “Coming
up in the next hour, we’ll be playing Blake Shelton’s new song, plus we’ll have
some Tim McGraw, and an oldie from Lee Ann Rimes. So don’t go away.”

Colt punched the off button and rubbed a knuckle
over his eyes. Cool air blew across his face through the open window. He’d be
lucky if he got back to sleep before one-thirty. Once he was awakened in the
night and his mind started cranking out thoughts, he had a hard time shutting
it down again.

For instance, tomorrow morning he had to get to the
office early to fax a contract to someone on the east coast. Then, he needed to
pull some listings for a couple that were relocating from Ohio. He had to
remember to call Lisa to set up an appraisal for Pete Johnson. And meet Shay at
eight for breakfast…

“Ah, damn,” he groaned. Why had he asked her to
breakfast? He had a rule about mixing business with pleasure, especially with
pretty clients. He should have told Shay he’d either have the papers mailed to
her or delivered.

Colt lightly banged his fist against the steering
wheel, wondering why his gut twisted in a knot. Was the Mexican food he’d had
for supper wreaking havoc on him? Or could it be that Shay Brennan’s smile and
her kind, easygoing nature had stirred him in ways he hadn’t been stirred in
years? That kind of feeling wasn’t anything he needed. He’d been doing just
fine the way life was.

The light turned green and he pressed slowly on the
gas pedal. The town was dead. It was nice. Peaceful. Gave him time to think
without the usual distractions of work and demanding clients. And his family,
who, for several years now, had been trying to set him up with eligible ladies.

His late wife, Denise, had been the love of his
life. When she’d died ten years ago, a part of him had died with her.
Eventually, he’d learned to manage his grief, but he still maintained the
notion he’d never find anyone as perfect for him as Denise had been.

Before she’d passed, she’d made him promise he’d
find love again. She’d told him she didn’t want him to grow old alone. While
promising, to appease her, he’d known it would be a pledge he’d find difficult
to keep. It had been many years before he’d been able to think about dating
another woman, let alone give his love to someone else. Losing Denise had
shattered his heart in ways he’d never imagined possible. That kind of pain was
not something he ever planned to go through again.

A few years ago, when his family found out he’d
started casually dating again, they’d been eager to help, even though he’d
insisted he wasn’t interested in any permanent relationship.

Mama only had his best interests at heart each time she’d
introduce him to “a real sweet gal” she knew from the bank or had met at the
grocery store. As did his brother, who’d talked him into going to the bar with
him on Ladies’ Night every once in a while. But there was no one out there who
could hold a candle to Denise, and Colt was not concerned with trying to find
her.

He wasn’t just tired of looking.  He eventually
became fed up with the whole dating scene. Of women who were divorced a couple
of times over with a few kids and looking for someone to provide for them. Of
young, high maintenance gals who were interested in a sugar daddy, and the
high-powered career women who wouldn’t get off the cell phone long enough to
have a real conversation. Of the ones from church who expected a ring and a
date after the first kiss. Of the girls he’d meet at bars and wanted nothing
more than a one-night stand.

It wasn’t as if he was a saint. Far from it. He’d
caved and slept with a few women over the years, mainly those he’d picked up at
Ladies’ Night. He was a man with needs and urges, after all. But he’d felt
disgusted with himself the next morning once the hangover had worn off. That
wasn’t who he was, or the kind of woman he wanted—even for the short run.

The muscle in Colt’s jaw twitched when his thoughts
took him back to that lady, Ann, he’d dated for several months. She’d been
crazy for him, but there’d been no emotional ties on his part. Even when he’d
known it was going nowhere, he’d continued to call her when his physical
appetites had needed to be satisfied. After finally breaking it off for good,
she’d called him for days afterward, pleading to know what she’d done wrong. 
He’d felt like a shit for having used her that way.

Life, he’d decided then and there, was easier
without a woman in it. His pickup was reliable. Work was a sure thing. Family
he could count on. At forty years old, love the second time around . . . it
didn’t seem to be in the cards. And that was okay with him.

He pulled into his driveway and cut off the truck’s
motor, thinking about Shay Brennan again. She didn’t seem to fit the mold of
the women he’d met the past few years. There was something about her.  Something
different.  Something intriguing.

Ah, hell. Maybe breaking his rule and having
breakfast with her might not be such a bad thing after all.

Four

Shay walked into the Golden Spike at eight on the
dot and spied Colt sitting at a table for two next to the window. As she
approached, he stood and pulled out the chair for her.

“Good mornin’.” His smile was dazzling, but she was
determined not to allow his good ol’ boy charm get to her.

“Thank you,” she said, as he scooted her in. “Good
morning to you, too.”

When he returned to his seat, he pointed out the mug
of steaming coffee in front of her. “I ordered you a cup. I noticed you were
drinking coffee yesterday at the closing.”

“Thanks.” She stirred a packet of sugar into the
mug. “I’ll admit I’m a coffee fanatic. I don’t smoke or drink, so it’s my one
vice. Although I know caffeine’s not good for you.”

“If that’s your only weakness, I wouldn’t be too
concerned. You’re as fit and as healthy looking as any filly I’ve seen.”

The comment and his focused gaze were not lost on
Shay, but she let both pass as the waitress appeared and took their orders. Blueberry
pancakes and bacon for both. When the waitress left, Colt said, “You must have
gotten back to sleep all right last night. You look refreshed this morning and
as pretty as a daisy.”

She smiled.  “Thank you.” His gaze, though direct,
was friendly, not lecherous.

“That blouse goes well with your auburn hair,” he
continued. “And it brings out the green flecks in your hazel eyes.”

Shay took a sip of coffee and wondered if he was for
real or if that was just his salesman personality shining through. Men didn’t
normally notice such things as whether the color of a woman’s clothing set off her
hair. At least none of the men she’d known in her thirty-three years. Unless
they were gay, that was. She scrutinized him closely. Nah. This guy was
definitely not gay.

It was a nice change to be given a compliment, especially
since she’d gotten up early to figure out what outfit to wear and to wash and
dry her hair so it shined. She didn’t exactly know why it made a difference,
but she’d wanted to make a better impression today than she had last night. After
several changes of clothes, she’d finally decided on the emerald colored blouse
and jeans, which, she guessed, had been a good choice.

“Your charm is endearing, Mr. Morgan. It seems chivalry
is not dead in the American West.” Her gaze narrowed playfully.

“Ah, I’ve never thought of myself as charming. I’m
just a guy who’s honest to a fault. And remember, it’s Colt. Not Mr. Morgan.”

Handsome, engaging, and polite. She glanced at the
ring finger on his left hand. No wedding band. It made no difference to her,
but why wasn’t he taken?

“I’m not married in case you wondered.”  His lips
curved into a crooked smile.

She felt her cheeks flame. Could he read her mind?
Of course not. He’d followed her gaze to his hand. He was easy going and had a
sense of humor, too.  Great qualities in a man.

“I’m not married either.” She lowered her gaze to the
coffee cup, and then wondered why she’d offered that information.

“I know. I wouldn’t have asked you on a date if you
were.”

The wall she’d built around her heart cracked a bit.
“What do you mean, a date? I thought you had some paperwork to give me.”

“Uh, that’s right. I do.” He slipped a thin envelope
out of his pocket and handed it to her.  Then he leaned back in his chair,
looking sheepish, but his eyes still twinkled like stars. “I suppose having
breakfast together
could
be considered a date.”

Their hot plates were delivered, briefly
interrupting the conversation.

“I’m starving,” Shay admitted, drenching the
pancakes with syrup and stuffing a forkful into her mouth. She was glad for the
distraction, because the banter on whether this was a date or not was not
something she wanted to pursue.