The Billionaire of Bluebonnet(32)

“It’s pretty up there.”

“My one night alone with my wife and I get to spend it pulling Frodo and his buddies out of the mud.” He nodded at the helmet of the man walking away. “What’s he supposed to be?”

“Don’t know. I’m afraid to ask.” Colt double-checked the tags on the keys and slapped a sticker on the inside window of the car, away from the rain. The sticker marked that the vehicle had been noted and the keys collected for eventual towing. That vehicle taken care of, he moved farther down the swampy parking lot, his rain boots sucking in the mud with every step. He checked the cars for the emergency stickers, making sure that each one had been taken care of. The last thing he wanted was to miss a car and have to hunt down the owner at a later date. This needed to be a one-and-done scenario.

There was a small car he’d missed, sunk into the mud between two trucks. The sides of the vehicle were heavily splattered on the sides, as if it had arrived after the rain had begun and had to plow through the mud. The two trucks next to it were sunk deep, the owners having tried to move their vehicles when they realized the rain was coming down so heavily. Tried, and failed, succeeding only at swamping the car next to it with even more mud. Even through the coating of filth, he recognized the light lime green of the car, and the make. A Volkswagen. Curious, Colt ran a hand over the back windshield, wiping away the splatters of mud.

The window read CALIFORNIA DREAMIN’ and the salon phone number. Underneath the logo, it read hair nails waxes tanning.

Well, he’d be damned. Snobbish, prim Beth Ann Williamson was here in this drunken mudfest? That didn’t seem right. He scratched his chin, scowling at the sight of the car. No way she’d be here with this crowd. She thought she was too good for this sort of thing. If a leather-kilted barbarian—or whatever he was supposed to be—approached someone as proper and high-maintenance as Beth Ann, she’d probably call the cops. He peered into the back of the car.

“What are you doing?” a girl’s voice called at him, accusing.

Colt turned with a scowl, staring down at the bedraggled blond head of what looked like Beth Ann Williamson’s younger sister. Patty, he thought for a moment. No, Lucy. A local girl. He knew the Williamsons—everyone that had grown up in Bluebonnet did—even if they didn’t know him. Or want to know him.

He gestured at the car. “That your sister’s ride?”

Lucy crossed her arms over a damp velvet dress. It was ridiculous-looking, the heavy skirts two feet deep with mud, and the entire thing was so heavy it looked like it was going to drag her down with it. “Might be hers. Why are you wanting to know?”

Ah yes. She was definitely a Williamson. Unwilling to let the teenager rile him, Colt ignored her nasty tone and gestured at the car. “I need her keys so we can arrange a tow when the tractors get here. Go tell her.”

Lucy looked uncomfortable. She didn’t move.

“What?”

She didn’t move.

“What?” he repeated irritably. These damn idiots were getting on his nerves. They all acted like they were being carted off to jail rather than rescued from a washout. “Talk.”

Lucy fidgeted, and that annoyed Colt. He knew Beth Ann wasn’t a fan of his—the opposite, really. Had she said something to her sister to make her want to avoid him? Be wary of him? Lucy was too young to remember him well, since he’d left for the marines right after high school. He’d been gone for nine long years, way too long for a kid to remember . . . , but she might know his younger brothers. Impatience flashed through him. Was this just another Williamson being a snob to a Waggoner? If so, he didn’t have time for this shit.

“Do I need to remind you that this is an emergency situation?” He gestured at the Bluebonnet Emergency Services logo on the sleeve of his jacket. “If your sister isn’t willing to comply with the rescue—”

“That’s not it,” Lucy said quickly. “I haven’t seen her.”

“You haven’t seen her?” He arched an eyebrow.

The girl fidgeted. “I thought she was here to take me home, so I had people cover for me. She probably thinks I’m off at the Templar camp.” Lucy shrugged again, wiping her wet hair away from her face with bright green fingernails.

A wave of sheer irritation flashed through him. This girl had deliberately led her sister astray and risked her safety. And in the process, she’d created more work for him.

He turned, hands on his hips, and surveyed the parking lot. This entire evening was a mess. In the distance, he saw volunteers laughing and joking around with men in costumes. He thought he might have even seen one take a swig of an offered drink as they waited for a ride. Disgraceful. The military would have never run an evacuation like this.