Beneath the Stetson(3)

“What I don’t see is why you think anyone I know is responsible.”

“Alex was well-liked in Royal, though obviously he had at least one enemy. You know a lot of people. Somewhere in the midst of all that I hope to find the truth. It’s my job, Gil. And I’m good at it. All I need is your help.”

Cade popped into the room, the front of his shirt damp from his ablutions. “I’m really hungry,” he said. At a nod from his father, he scooped up two apple slices and started eating.

As Bailey watched, Gil offered her a piece and took one himself. His sharp white teeth bit into the fruit with a crunch. She tried to eat, but the food stuck in her throat. She needed Gil on her side. And she needed him to trust her. Perhaps that would require time.

Biting her lip, she put down her uneaten snack and tried the lemonade instead. As father and son chatted about mundane matters, she strove for composure. Usually it took a lot to rattle her. But for some reason, winning Gil’s approval was important.

When his phone rang, he glanced at the number and grimaced. “Sorry, Ms. Collins. I need to take this in private. I won’t be long.”

Cade glanced up at his dad as Gil stood. “Don’t worry, Daddy. I’ll entertain her.”

* * *

When Gil returned thirty minutes later, he felt a pinch of guilt for abandoning Bailey to his son’s clutches. Not all women were good with children, and Bailey struck him as more of a focused career woman than a nurturer. When he crossed the threshold into the kitchen, he pulled up short. There at the table, right where he had left them, were Cade and Bailey. Only now, they were sitting side by side, their heads bent over Bailey’s phone.

The lemonade glasses were empty, as was the plate that had held apples.

Bailey shook her head. “Remember the angles,” she said. “Don’t just fire it off willy-nilly.”

When Gil’s son gazed up at Bailey, Gil’s heart fractured. Never had he seen a boy so starved for feminine attention. Despite Gil’s best efforts at being a perfect parent, nothing could substitute for the love of a mother. If Gil were not careful, Cade would latch onto Bailey and create an embarrassing situation for all of them.

Gil cleared his throat. “Cade. If you’ll give me half an hour to speak with Ms. Collins about some grown-up business, I promise you we’ll leave for our ride immediately after that.”

Cade never looked up from his game. “Sure, Dad. Let me just finish this one—”

Gil took the phone and handed it to Bailey. “You have permission to use the computer in my study. Now scram.”

“Yes, sir.” Cade gave Bailey a cheeky grin on his way out the door. “Will you say goodbye before you leave?”

Bailey rose to her feet and glanced at Gil.

Cade’s father nodded. “I’ll let you know when we’re done.”

In Cade’s absence an uncomfortable silence reigned. The little boy’s exuberant personality had served to soften the edges of Gil’s aggressive displeasure.

Bailey hesitated, searching for a way to break the ice.

Gil did it for her. He held out an arm. “Since Cade is in my office, we might as well step onto the back porch. If that’s okay with you,” he added stiffly.

Bailey nodded. “Of course.” The January weather was picture-perfect, and as was often the case during the winter, a bit erratic, as well. Last week Royal had endured storms and temperatures in the mid-fifties. Today the thermometer was forecast to hit eighty, almost a record.

As they stepped outside, Bailey had to smile. The Straight Arrow was an enormous, thriving cattle operation. In addition to its efficiency and profitability, every aspect of the ranch’s physical appearance was neat and aesthetically pleasing to the eye. It took money to carry out such attention to detail. But Gil had money. Lots of it. Which was a good thing, because his wealth meant he had the luxury of spending time with his son.

Watching and listening to Cade, Bailey understood how very well Gil had managed to give his son emotional security. The child was bright, friendly and well adjusted. Growing up without a mother was no picnic. But Gil’s parenting had mitigated Cade’s loss as much as was possible.

Gil remained standing, so Bailey followed suit. If she had made herself comfortable in one of the cushioned wicker chairs, he would have towered over her. She suspected he would like that.

Bailey, however, had a job to do. She wouldn’t be cowed by Gil’s fiercely masculine personality. She worked in a world where men still dominated the profession. Self-preservation demanded she be tough on the outside, even if she sometimes felt as if she was playing a part.

Gil fired the first shot. “I thought you went back to Dallas.”