Blame It on the Cowboy (17 page)

“You know her?” Logan asked when Reese didn't say anything and didn't move.

“Of course she knows me,” the woman purred. She went to Reese, pulled her into her arms. “I'm her mother.”

* * *

R
EESE
HAD
HOPED
that the worst part of the night was over, but she'd obviously been wrong. If she knew her mother, things were about to get much, much worse.

The first thing Reese did was untangle herself from her mother's embrace. It was as fake as the smile on her face, and after seeing so many fake smiles at the reception, Reese knew one when she saw it. Of course, anytime her mother smiled, it was likely just to play a con or because she was drunk. Since Reese didn't smell any booze on her breath, it had to be the latter.

“Why are you here?” Reese snapped. She also checked her purse to make sure her mother hadn't already managed to snatch her wallet. It was there, for now.

“Where are your manners?” Her mother turned to Logan, extended her hand for him to shake. “I'm Vickie Stephenson. Reese probably hasn't mentioned me—”

“She has.” And he left it that. His tone, however, implied he knew all about her criminal ways.

“That's a surprise,” her mother said. “Reese doesn't usually tell her…friends about me.” And yes, she actually glanced at Logan's crotch.

In addition to being a con woman, her mother slept around a lot. With anybody. One of her favorite things to do was to seduce Reese's boyfriends, and that had started when Reese was a teenager.

“Watch your wallet and your zipper,” Reese warned Logan, and she hated that she even had to bring it up. Still, she didn't want him to be robbed. Or groped. Both were possibilities.

“Why are you here?” Reese repeated.

Of course, she could have added a bunch more questions to that including but not limited to, how did you find me and what do you want? Because if Vickie was here, she definitely wanted something.

“Can't I visit my own daughter without my motives being questioned?”

Vickie was using her “high-end” voice tonight. She had many voices and used them to fit the situation. She apparently thought she shouldn't sound like a thug or a hick around Logan. That included dressing high-end. Or her interpretation of it, anyway. She was wearing a black skirt with a leopard print top.

“No, I'll always question your motives,” Reese quickly assured her. “Whenever I see you, I know you've brought trouble with you.”

Vickie made a sound of frustration that couldn't possibly be genuine because she had to have known Reese wouldn't trust her. Not after their last encounter. She'd taken Reese's keys, broken into the restaurant where she worked and stolen thousands of dollars' worth of knives. Since there probably wasn't a black market for them, Vickie had likely just done it to prove to Reese that she could screw up her life.

Reese had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach that Vickie was here to do that all over again.

“Can we go somewhere and talk?” Vickie asked. She motioned up the street. “Maybe we can go to that pretty Victorian place where Logan has his office? I'll bet you have some good whiskey in there, and I could use a drink. Could use some other things, too.” Vickie glanced at his crotch again.

Good grief. The woman was sixteen years older than Logan, and every one of her forty-nine years showed on her face. She would have had better luck picking up Greg the clown than a guy like Logan.

“How did you find out I was here?” Reese asked.

“Does it matter?”

Well, it mattered even more now that Vickie had dodged the question. “Did Chucky tell you?” Not that Chucky would have just volunteered information like that, but it was possible Chucky had found her and then mentioned it.

“Chucky,” Vickie repeated. “Yes. He told me.”

For a woman who made her living doing cons, that wasn't a convincing lie. But the problem with Vickie was if she made it seem like a lie, then it wouldn't put the blame back on Chucky, and it didn't let Reese know who'd really ratted her out.

Reese glanced at Logan, and even though he didn't say anything, she thought they might be thinking the same thing.

Helene could have done this.

After all, Helene had known about Reese being number one in her culinary class, and that wasn't even something Jimena would have mentioned—since Jimena had graduated last. It made sense that Helene would have Reese investigated, and if so she could have been the one to find Vickie.

And bring her here to Spring Hill.

Where Helene could see how much trouble she could stir up.

“Can we have that talk now?” Vickie asked. Judging from her tone, the pot stirring was about to start. “Maybe in private? Maybe over drinks? Or would you rather we just chat in front of your friend?”

“I know about Reese's past,” Logan volunteered.

“Do you, now?” Vickie said in a tone that implied Logan didn't know everything.

And he didn't.

But her mother did.

Vickie didn't have to mention Spenser's name, but it was there, part of the pot stirring, and it wasn't something Reese was ready to share with Logan. She might never be ready for that.

Reese turned to him, but Logan must have known what she was going to say because he shook his head. “I'm not sure it's a good idea for you to be alone with your mother.”

It wasn't, but she didn't have a lot of options here. Reese kissed him but kept it chaste and brief. “I'll take my mother to my place and will call you when we're done.”

“I can drive you there,” he said, taking out his keys.

But Reese shook her head. “We can walk.” She didn't want her mother around Logan for another minute. “Don't worry. This won't take long.”

Considering that she'd started out with a string of lies when she met Logan, Reese hated to lie again, but she was pretty sure this would take more time than “not long.”

Reese started the questions as soon as Logan walked away from them, heading for his truck. “Did Helene Langford contact you?”

Vickie made a show of thinking about that. She made a hmm-ing sound and tapped her chin. “Doesn't sound familiar. Refresh my memory.”

Reese didn't bother. Even if her mother admitted it was Helene, it could still be a lie, but Reese did need to check with Jimena to make sure she hadn't let anything slip.

“You got a nice thing going here,” Vickie said when they reached the Bluebonnet Inn. “Nice dress, and that cowboy you were kissing is dreamy.”

Coming from Vickie, it sounded perverse, and it would no doubt lead to demanding that Reese let her in on some of that dreaminess.

“Well, this is a disappointment,” Vickie said when Reese unlocked her room and they went in. “I'd have thought you'd be staying in the cowboy's fancy house.”

“Even the cowboy doesn't stay in his fancy house. And this place suits me just fine since I won't be in town much longer.”

“Oh?” Vickie went to the kitchenette and would have helped herself to a glass of wine from the fridge if Reese hadn't stepped in front of her.

Reese didn't dare move the envelope that Logan had given her. Didn't even glance at it or else her mother might have realized it was something important.

“This isn't a social call,” Reese reminded her, “so just tell me why you're here and then leave.”

Vickie certainly didn't move any faster. Maybe she would, though, if Reese kept blocking her from getting her booze fix. She would also block the bathroom. And watch to make sure Vickie didn't steal anything. Of course, that was the advantage of not having much because it meant there was nothing much to steal.

Nothing but the watch.

It was the one thing Reese had managed to keep secret from her, and that was in part thanks to her grandfather's warning. “Don't let your mother get her greedy hands on this,” he'd told Reese.

Even though she'd been only twelve, she had known it was sound advice. Because although the watch itself probably wasn't worth much, Vickie would want it simply to pawn it for whatever few bucks she could get for it.

Heirlooms had a short shelf life in the Stephenson family.

“You're leaving, you say?” Vickie asked, her gaze combing the room. Thankfully, it was so small the combing didn't take long. “It appears you've got a good thing with the cowboy. Don't know why you'd just give that up.”

“I flip burgers at a café, and I live here.” Enough said about that. Not a dream job or dream apartment. “The cowboy is temporary just like everything else in my life. You know I don't stay in one place for long. In fact, I'm already antsy.”

Reese was afraid that sounded like the huge lie that it was. The not getting antsy was a problem. Because she really wasn't in a hurry to leave. Or at least she hadn't been until Vickie had shown up.

Vickie finally sat down on the love seat. “So, what kind of game are you running on the McCords?”

“No game.”

Vickie didn't believe her, of course. “Well, I want a cut of it.”

There. It'd taken way too long for Vickie to finally spell out why she was here. “There is no cut because I'm not getting a dime from Logan.”

Her mother made a sound of disgust. “That'll have to change. I'll expect payment, and I expect it by tomorrow morning. I have places to be, people to see.”

Everything inside Reese went still. “Or?” Because with her mother, there was always an “or.”

“Or I'll tell Logan about Spenser.”

Reese tried not to react. Was sure she failed. Since she didn't trust her voice, she just stayed quiet and listened as she could feel the proverbial rug being yanked from beneath her feet.

“I know you haven't told him,” Vickie went on. “This town is a hotbed of gossip, and I would have heard it by now. By the way, you don't look pregnant.”

“I'm not. Hotbeds aren't always accurate.”

“That's a shame. You could have gotten a bundle for a McCord heir.”

Reese didn't even bother telling her that she would never have a baby just to get money from the father. When and if she had children, it would be for all the right reasons. There wasn't much right about her situation with Logan.

Nothing other than the attraction.

But even Logan wouldn't want to be ruined because of this heat between them. In another month or so, maybe less, he'd find another source of heat.

“So, let me get this straight,” Reese said. “If I don't get you some money, you'll tell Logan about my past?”

She nodded. Smiled. Oh, no. That was her snake-oil smile. “And I'll call Logan's business associates. Think how all those ranchers with their down-home values will react to Logan carrying on with the likes of you. I can destroy him.”

Reese wished she could argue with that. She couldn't.

Vickie stood. “I'll give you twelve hours,” she added. “If I don't have ten thousand dollars by then, I start making those calls and talking to people.”

Reese blocked her path when Vickie reached for the door. She knew she had zero bargaining power with this woman. And the calls might not even do the damage that Vickie was claiming they could.

Still, Reese didn't want to take the chance.

“Please don't do this,” Reese said, and yes, she was begging.

But got exactly the reaction she expected. Vickie's smile only widened. “All right, I'll give you twelve and a half hours. I'll meet you at the café then. Oh, and bake me something special to go along with the money.”

God, Reese couldn't stop this. Well, not without hitting Vickie with a skillet and tying her up in the closet. Extreme, yes, but she was furious enough to want to do it. Of course, she'd been wanting to hit her with something for a while now.

Reese stepped aside and let her leave, knowing there was nothing she could do to stop this train that was speeding right toward Logan.

Nothing she could do here in Spring Hill, anyway.

She grabbed her backpack and headed for the door. Once she was far away from here, Reese could call the same business associates of Logan's and assure them that she was no longer part of his life.

The first tear slid down her cheek before Reese even made it to the back stairs.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

L
OGAN
SAT
IN
his truck and watched the Bluebonnet Inn. The light was still on in Reese's apartment, but he couldn't see anyone moving around in there from the window. Of course, it didn't take much moving around for Vickie to spell out whatever blackmail scheme she had in mind.

Something that involved him, no doubt.

He'd read her arrest record, and her favorite con was to get friendly with a senior citizen and then rob him blind. The coziness often involved sex, and in many cases, the victim had to be coerced into bringing charges against her because they were either too embarrassed or had fallen for her. Which meant there were likely countless victims out there.

Including Reese.

Reese wouldn't see herself as a victim, though, but she wasn't nearly as tough or guarded as she wanted people to think.

He frowned.

Since when had he become an expert on the inner workings of Reese's mind? Yes, he knew how to bring her to an orgasm, but that hardly made him a Reese expert. Still, he sat and watched, his stomach in knots over the idea that Vickie would use him to get to her own daughter.

His phone buzzed, and Logan nearly sprained his hand yanking it from his pocket. Not Reese, though. Lucky. He considered letting it go to voice mail, but that would only unnecessarily worry his family.

“I'm fine,” Logan answered right off to save them some time.

“Good to hear it. Since you're with Reese, I figured she'd kiss any boo-boos you got from Helene's chatter.”

“I don't get boo-boos. If you're not calling about my well-being, then why are you calling? And if it's about Helene, save your breath.”

“It's about clown shit.”

Logan was sure he made a face. “Have clowns been crapping in the pastures, too?”

“No, but one clown crapped his pants. Greg. Apparently, the Nederland brothers followed him out of the reception and gave him a butt-whipping on your behalf.”

Hell's Texas bells. The Nederlands were hardly champions of justice. They were three linebacker-sized brothers, probably suffering from some kind of glandular issues because of their size, and they liked to do two things—drink and fight. They had three sisters, same glandular problem, who were even worse than the brothers. Greg was lucky the Nederland males had been the ones to go after him.

“Is Greg okay?” Logan asked.

“Other than crapping his pants, some bruises and a missing tooth, he should be fine. But the Nederland brothers have him pinned down on the ground in the back of the civic center and have said they won't let him up until you give them the say-so.”

“Call the cops,” Logan instructed. “I don't want to go back to the civic center. I'm tied up.”

“Oh, yeah? Didn't know Reese was into that sort of thing.” And he probably wasn't joking. “Someone did call the cops, and that's why I'm calling you. Deputy Davy is on the way.”

Logan didn't just groan. He cursed. Deputy Davy Devine looked like a zombie and had the IQ of a shrimp. He could start a brawl just by showing up on the scene. Greg could get seriously hurt since he wasn't much of a fighter. Heck, lots of people could get hurt.

But Reese was in the same boat. It was just that her injuries wouldn't be bruises and crapped pants. He hoped.

“Pretend to be me,” Logan told his brother. “And tell the Nederlands to back off, that my honor doesn't need defending. Just use small words so they'll understand what you're saying.”

“You're sure? You hate it when we've played the switch.”

Yes, he did. Mainly because Lucky had used him to break up with girls, and a couple of times it had involved getting smacked upside the head with things that the girls threw at him.

“I'm sure,” Logan answered. “The Nederlands are probably drunk enough they won't notice you're not me, and we're dressed almost the same.”

Helene would notice, though, but maybe she wouldn't say anything. It did make Logan wonder, though, why she wasn't out there trying to save her clown lover.

Logan ended the call, but the second he did, his phone buzzed again. Speak of the devil—it was Helene—and this time he did let the call go to voice mail. It was probably just her asking him to intervene on Greg's behalf, but Logan had his own intervention right now.

Vickie came out of the Bluebonnet Inn.

She must have recognized his truck because she came his way, and Logan stepped out so she'd be sure to spot him.

“I figured I'd see you again,” Vickie purred, and yeah, it was a purr. She was coming on to him, and for some reason she thought it would work. She moved in much too close. Close enough that she brushed the front of her body over his.

Logan took her by the shoulders, lifted her and maneuvered her away from him. And he took back his wallet that she'd lifted.

She smiled, shrugged. “Must be losing my touch with both the wallet and the, well, touching.”

“I doubt your touch would have ever worked with me.”

“No? Well, plenty of people say that Reese and I look like sisters.”

Blind people, maybe, but Logan wasn't here to exchange pleasantries with this turd. It'd been a long night, and he still needed to talk to Reese.

“Here's how this is going to work,” Logan started.

But he didn't get to finish because Vickie interrupted him. “You're going to threaten to put me in jail the way you threatened Chucky. Well, that won't fly with me. I keep a lawyer on retainer and will be out in minutes.”

Not in the Spring Hill jail, but she was right—an arrest for trying to steal his wallet wouldn't get her much time behind bars. He could goad her into slapping him, but it would have the same results. The only thing he could do is take away what power she thought she had.

“There's nothing you can tell me that will come between Reese and me.” That possibly wasn't true.

“Even Spenser?” And she smiled when she asked that.

“Even Spenser O'Malley.”

She flinched, maybe surprised that he knew the man's full name, or maybe a gnat just flew in her eye.

“I hired a PI to investigate Reese. And you,” Logan added. “I know everything about both of you.”

Definitely not a gnat that time. It was a real flinch. “Are you still seeing her because you knocked her up?”

Logan rolled his eyes. He couldn't wait for a couple more months to pass, and then people would see that Reese wasn't showing, and it would put that rumor to rest. Well, they'd see if Reese stayed around, anyway. The jury was still out on whether or not that would happen.

“It's none of your business why I'm seeing her,” Logan went on. Good thing, too, since if he couldn't explain it to himself, he damn sure couldn't explain it to this piece of navel lint.

“It'll be my business when I tell your friends about you seeing a criminal.”

Now Logan smiled and shrugged. “My friends already know, and just in case you're going to threaten my business associates next, they know, too. I took Reese to a reception tonight where everyone in town saw us. If there was someone who didn't know, they will by morning.”

Of course, Jimena's tit slip and the clown crap might take top billing. No way could Reese and he match up to that.

Vickie huffed, glanced around as if trying to figure out what to say to salvage this. “All right. Give me ten grand, and I'll leave town. You'll never hear from me again.”

That didn't salvage it. And while she might indeed leave, Vickie was crap. She would just keep showing up. And Logan frowned at all the crap references he was making tonight.

“Listen carefully,” he said, making his voice take on that dangerous edge that he liked to have in situations like these. “I didn't give Chucky a dime, and I'm not giving you one, either. Leave town before you see a side of me that most people don't like to see.”

That was it. The only warning he intended to give her. It might work. Might not. Which meant Logan needed to be prepared for the fallout. Preparing started with seeing Reese. And he knew where she wouldn't be.

In her room.

Nope, she was probably already trying to outrun the stink her mother was using to smell up her life. And his.

“That's it?” Vickie howled when he got back in his truck. She called him a name, one that questioned his paternity, sexual habits and the size of his dick. Logan didn't care how many names she called him if she just left.

He drove away with her still swearing at him.

Logan went in the direction of Walter Meekins's place first. Since Walter had the only taxi in town, Reese might head there, but no, the taxi was parked right out front and had two cats sleeping on it. So, Logan drove toward the bus station, the only other way for Reese to make a getaway.

Unless she'd called Jimena to pick her up.

That caused his stomach to churn.

Jimena hadn't exactly been in any shape to drive, but that didn't mean Reese hadn't arranged to meet her friend at her car. If so, they could be anywhere by now.

Even though the bus station was only six blocks away from the Bluebonnet Inn, the sidewalks ended after about three of those blocks. And there were ditches. Since there were no streetlights in that section of the road, Reese could twist her ankle. Or get picked up by a serial killer.

And apparently he was imagining worst-case scenarios now.

Logan was about to call Reese, but he spotted something just ahead. At first it looked like fireflies, but then he realized it was his headlights catching the sparkles on Reese's black dress. She had her backpack looped over her shoulder, and yep, she was going straight for the bus station. Except she was limping.

He pulled off the road in front of her, blocking her path.

“I'm leaving,” she said, glancing at him.

“I see that.” He had to step in front of her when she tried to go around his truck. There was no traffic and probably wouldn't be this time of night, but Logan didn't want to risk her being hit. “Did you hurt your foot?”

“No, these heels are hard to walk in.”

They sure looked it, and coupled with the snug dress, she definitely wasn't dressed for a trek to the bus stop.

“My mother's going to ruin you,” she added, and that's when the headlights caught something else. The tears in her eyes.

Hell. She was crying.

“Your mother will try,” he argued. “But you do know I don't need protecting, right?”

Judging from the tears mixed with a huff, Reese didn't know that. “I can't let her do this to you.”

“Leaving won't help. If she comes after me, she'll do that whether you're in town or not. Vickie smells money, and she thinks she can get it from me.”

A sob left her mouth, and she sagged against him. “God, Logan. I'm so sorry.”

He knew that, and he was also pissed that Reese felt the need to apologize for something she hadn't done. Also pissed that she'd tried to limp her way away from town. And from him. He scooped her up in his arms, kissing her to catch the sound of surprise she made, and he carried her back to his truck.

“At least if I go, you can tell your business associates that you're no longer seeing me,” she reminded him when he set her on the seat and then followed in behind her.

Since it appeared that argument might continue, Logan kissed her again. Then he kissed her just because he felt like doing it. The third kiss, though, was all pure lust. That's because kisses one and two gave him a hard-on.

“You're staying,” he told her, but it was possible Reese didn't hear that because he was still kissing her when he said it. Possible, too, that she didn't hear it because she really got into the kiss, as well. Not just with her mouth.

But also with her hands.

She took hold of him and yanked him to her.

Logan hadn't expected the kiss to get this frantic and this deep so fast, but heck, he just went with it. In his way of thinking, Reese and he had been to hell and back today, and they deserved this.

But the question was, did they deserve it right here, right now?

Apparently so. Because Reese kissed him as if this were the last kiss she was ever going to get. Not just from him but from anyone. It wasn't true because Logan intended to do a lot more kissing.

And that's what he did.

Her dress was stretchy and clingy, but thankfully stretchy and clingy worked for what he had in mind. He pushed it up, found only a tiny pair of panties underneath, but even the millimeter of silk fabric was too much. He shoved the panties down, too, and kissed her stomach. The inside of her thigh. He would have sampled the part of her he really wanted to sample if she hadn't caught onto his hair and yanked him back up.

“We do this the old-fashioned way,” she insisted.

That was fine by him except her idea of old-fashioned and his weren't quite the same. She went after his zipper, and while her frantic hands were giving him some pleasure, there was pain, too. But not enough pain and pleasure to knock the common sense right out of his head.

They were on the side of the road. In his truck. And while he did have tinted windows, anyone driving by could get a glimpse inside if they looked hard enough.

Oh, hell.

She got him unzipped and had him in her mouth before he could stop her.

Logan cursed, all from pleasure this time, and while he did enjoy her particular version of old-fashioned, he couldn't see. His eyes had glazed over. Or so he thought. But they were just fogging up the windshield.

Reese kept him in her mouth long enough to make him want a whole lot more of her. She made a sound of protest when he caught onto her and moved her onto his lap so that her dress was up to her waist and she was straddling him. He made his own sound of protest because this was not the way he wanted to have sex with her. He'd wanted a slower pace. Foreplay.