A Texas Kind of Cowboy by Delores Fossen

CHAPTER ONE

LORELEI PARKMANWASactually hoping this was a wild-goose chase. Or rather a wild-butt chase since she couldn’t see the face of the man in the photo.

In fact, she couldn’t see much of anything because he’d been on his stomach when the shot was taken. Added to that, he’d had his arm bent at such an angle that it’d covered his face, ear and most of his hair. The photographer had captured only a portion of his neck, back and that rather superior butt. Said butt had a longhorn tat just above the right cheek.

Those little “identifying” tidbits were hardly a detailed description to determine exactly who he was, but she’d have to work with what she had. Because Lorelei had to know the truth of whose butt was in the picture even if, in this case, the truth wasn’t necessarily going to set her free.

Maybe just the opposite.

It could turn her life into a seriously tangled mess.

A lot was riding on IDing the butt’s owner, and if the owner turned out to be rodeo star Dax Buchanan, then...well, she wasn’t going there just yet. She’d hope for this being a wild-goose chase and start with trying to confirm or disprove it was Dax’s butt. Then she would figure out the next step.

Tucking the photo in her purse, Lorelei pulled on her lightweight jacket and tried to tamp down her nerves. Tried not to chicken out, either, as she made her way out of her office and into the storefront of the Glass Hatter. Her shop.

Her baby.

It had been a good chunk of her focus before a real baby had come into her life nearly a year ago.

Lorelei recalled a quote from the town’s founder, Hezzie Parkman, that no one put on their tombstone that they wished they’d spent more time at work. She wasn’t sure she’d fully bought that until she had become a mom. Now, her daughter, Stellie, was her life, but Lorelei still managed to have plenty of love for the shop. It was just no longer her top priority.

She walked past one of the displays of delicate blown glass art that her sister Nola had created. It always fascinated and boggled her mind that Nola could create such things from fire, glass, breath and imagination. Each one of them was a little masterpiece.

Lorelei had personally arranged this display of the pieces with wings—angels, butterflies and birds—on the spotless floating shelves so they’d catch the morning sun just right. She’d done the same to the others. The vases, bowls, paperweights and whatnots that Nola thankfully created on a regular enough basis to earn them both good livings.

Even now, even with so much weighing on her mind, Lorelei took a moment to adjust a lavender and mint-green centerpiece sculpture before she went to the front display window. Her assistant, Misty Bennington, was there setting up an arrangement of glass spring flowers in clear tall vases.

“I need to run an errand,” Lorelei said, trying to make it sound as if it were routine. Even though it wasn’t.

Since it was nine in the morning, the shop wouldn’t be open for another hour, and Lorelei hoped she’d be back by then. Of course, depending on how this visit with a hot rodeo star went, she might not be in any mental shape to return to work. Because if it was his butt, then she’d have to deal with that. If it wasn’t his, then she’d have to keep searching. There wasn’t exactly a reliable database to search guys with great butts and longhorn tats.

“There’s nothing wrong with Stellie, is there?” Misty asked. She was Lorelei’s age, thirty-five, and they’d known each other all their lives. That was probably why Misty had no trouble picking up on the worry vibe Lorelei was no doubt sending off.

“Stellie’s fine,” Lorelei assured her. Her nearly eleven-month-old adopted daughter, Estella, AKA Stellie, was with the nanny, and they no doubt had a wonderful, fun day planned.

Lorelei focused on that, on the fun and wonderful, on her precious daughter as she took out the photo to show Misty. “Without reading anything into it or asking me why I’m showing you this, could you tell me if you recognize that?”

Misty took the photo, blinked, then laughed. “You want me to ID a hot ass?”

Yes, this was a long shot. Especially long since even though Misty was attractive, her love life was even less lover-filled than Lorelei’s.

Lorelei waggled the picture, urging Misty to take a longer look. She did. No laugh this time, but she made a sound of yummy approval.

“No, I don’t recognize it,” Misty insisted. “Please tell me your errand involves getting a look at the butt’s owner.”

It might, indeed, but Lorelei reminded herself that it was a good thing she’d struck out with Misty. If and when she struck out with Dax Buchanan, she’d next show the photo to her sisters. Not that they were big butt experts, either. But the more people who ruled out knowing the butt’s owner meant he was likely some random stranger she would never be able to find.

Which would suit her just fine.

For now, though, the ruling-out had to continue.

Repeating that to herself and steeling herself up, Lorelei went out of the shop and to her car in the parking lot. The morning March wind had a bit of a chill to it, but it wouldn’t last, not in this part of central Texas. Despite the fact that it wasn’t officially spring yet, the temps would climb into the eighties by early afternoon.

She drove through Last Ride, the hometown she knew like the back of her own hand. Past the shops and businesses that were unique to a unique small town. For Heaven’s Cake Bakery and Once Upon a Time antique and art shop. Fowl Feathered Friends was having a sale on birdseed.

Normally, she would have driven slower to take in the ever-changing displays of the storefronts, but today wasn’t about savoring the sites. She headed out of town and toward Sunset Creek Ranch.

It felt a little as if she were heading to some kind of showdown like a gunfight at the O.K. Corral, but it was possible it might be nothing more than a very short, perhaps embarrassing, encounter with Dax Buchanan. If she struck out with him and his butt, then she would go to the next phase of her search—maybe even hire a PI. She couldn’t breathe easier until the search was over and done and her life felt righted again.

Lorelei took the turn to Sunset Creek Ranch and drove through the massive wrought iron gates that were thankfully open. Then, she got a look at the ranch itself that was just as picturesque as its name. Acres of lush green pastures, white fences and three barns. The sprawling two-story stone-and-pine house had been well maintained, a reminder that Dax wasn’t just a rodeo star but that he’d also made a fortune off endorsements and the sales of the prized rodeo bulls that his team of ranch hands bred and raised.

Since Dax’s brother Wyatt was married to her glass artist sister, Nola, that meant they had a family connection. It also meant Lorelei was privy to the gossip about Dax. Lots and lots of gossip. About his chaotic, unconventional lifestyle and the equally chaotic reputation he had with women.

About the longhorn tat he had on his butt.

Yes, people in Last Ride gossiped about such things, and Lorelei had heard plenty of giggled whispers about having seen the tat. Of course, a tat sighting like that would have likely happened during sex. Or in her case, a photo.

Lorelei made her way up the porch that ran across the entire front of the house, rang the bell and waited. And waited. Because of that family connection with his brother Wyatt, she knew Dax wasn’t away at some rodeo event since the night before, he’d hosted a bachelor party for his good friend, Sheriff Matt Corbin.

After the nanny had arrived to tend to Stellie and Lorelei had left for work, she’d seen Wyatt at the diner in town. Wyatt would have definitely been at the party so she’d figured if he was up and about, then so was Dax.

But she was possibly wrong about that.

She rang the doorbell again, waited some more and was ready to go looking out back for him when she heard the sound of what appeared to be someone dropping or bumping into something. Male muttered profanity followed. Then, hobbled footsteps. And a naked Dax Buchanan finally opened the door.

Well, almost naked, anyway.

All he wore were black boxers that dipped low on his hips. So low that if they dipped even slightly lower, then she was going to get an eyeful. Or perhaps even a look at the infamous tat if he turned around.

Of course, the eyeful had already happened with the rumpled dark brown hair, the dreamy green eyes and the body. Yes, that body. Toned, lean. Perfect, like one of those calendars filled with hot guys for each month. And the face. Mercy, oh, mercy. He’d clearly gotten some amazing genes that blended together to create that equally amazing face.

A definite eyeful.

It was easy to see why so many women had wanted to take Dax for a spin. Even if that spin had a shorter shelf life than an already-ripe avocado.

“Yeah?” he said, rubbing his knee, swearing and yawning at the same time.

There was a red splotch on the knee that he’d obviously banged. Beneath the splotch was a white scar that appeared to be from a surgery.

“Oh,” he added when he fully opened his eyes. “Lorelei.”

Of course, he knew who she was. He’d known her for years, since Dax and his brothers had moved to Last Ride when he was a kid. Other than the family link with Nola and Wyatt, there was another “connection,” too. Once when she’d been sixteen and Dax had been eleven, Lorelei had sort of babysat, or rather supervised him, when she’d worked in the after-school program.

Thinking about that now made her feel old and somewhat icky. Not icky enough, though, to quit noticing that he was hot.

And confused.

Since this was the first time she’d ever been to Sunset Creek Ranch, that probably accounted for the confusion she saw in his eyes. Maybe a hangover was playing into this, too, because she seriously doubted it’d been a no-booze bachelor party.

“I need to talk to you,” she said to get her mouth working again before drool could accumulate.

“Yeah,” he repeated, and he scrubbed his hand over his chin, which was sporting plenty of stubble. “Look, if this is about the red panties and the stripper, I didn’t invite her. Tiffany Carver just heard about the bachelor party and thought she’d provide entertainment. I didn’t manage to get her out of here, though, before she shoved red edible panties in Wyatt’s jeans.”

Lorelei just stared at him. “Uh, I’m not here about that.” And she had no doubts, none, that Wyatt had resisted both the panties and the stripper. Nola and he were soul mates. Well, soul mates with complications, anyway, but they’d finally worked out their path so they could be together.

“Oh,” Dax said, yawning again. He stepped back, motioning for her to come in. “Is this about Wyatt and Nola?”

“No,” she answered, stepping inside. Though that was a good assumption since Wyatt and Nola were expecting a baby, and there’d been talk of maybe doing a joint family baby shower with both the Parkmans and the Buchanans. “It’s something else.”

Dax didn’t question what that something else might be. “All right, then hold on while I locate some clothes. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen, and if you want to take mercy on me, please make some coffee.”

With that plea, he headed toward a hall, and with his exit, Lorelei got a really good look at his back and shoulders. Since she was a woman with normal eyesight, normal urges, too, she had to get past the kick delivered by all that testosterone. The man threw it off like a high-powered lawn sprinkler. Setting testosterone and toned muscles aside, she tried to compare his backside to the photo, but the best she could manage was maybe it was a match.

Lorelei stayed put a moment and glanced around. Since this was an open-concept floor plan, she had no trouble seeing the living room, dining room and kitchen. She’d expected to see tables and counters cluttered with beer bottles and party debris, but it was surprisingly clean.

She made her way to the kitchen, located the coffeepot. Not one of those single-serving machines that she’d imagined a guy like Dax would have because of the convenience of it. This one was the old-fashioned drip sort. Lorelei found the coffee in a nearby cupboard and got a pot started while she continued to look around.

No red panties.

In fact, nothing like the bachelor-cave vibe that she’d expected, but she saw a “vibe” of a different sort. There were three flyers on the counter. Apparently, mock-ups for the Last Ride Charity Rodeo that Dax had hosted for the past couple of years. This year’s rodeo was due to take place in about six weeks.

Talk had it that Dax did the event so he could bring in his drinking, womanizing pals under the guise of doing something good for the town. Other talk claimed it was Dax’s attempt to make amends for his wild and rowdy past. Lorelei knew that many went just to get a look at the hot rodeo star in action.

And speaking of hot rodeo stars, Dax came back in while the coffee maker was still sputtering out the brew.

He’d pulled on a shirt that he hadn’t bothered to button and jeans he hadn’t fully zipped. Apparently, he was a man accustomed to being only partially dressed around women. Or maybe he simply didn’t see her as a woman he wished to impress.

That made sense since she so wasn’t his type.

Even though he was thirty, barely—she’d checked that on his National Rodeo Association profile—talk was that he went for women in their early twenties. Buckle bunnies and those fresh out of college. Lorelei was thirty-five, and while that was only five years older than Dax, she was pretty sure there was a generation of difference between them and that showed in their dating habits. Her occasional boyfriend, Alan Sandoval, was nearly fifty, technically old enough to be Dax’s father.

“Sorry, but I need this,” he muttered, taking out a huge cup with a bucking-bull logo and Sunset Creek Ranch printed on it.

He put the cup beneath the still-perking coffee and grabbed a much larger mug from the cupboard. He filled that mug from the pot, added an ice cube from the fridge dispenser to cool it down some and started drinking while he poured her a cup.

“Cream’s in the fridge. Sugar’s there.” He tipped his head to a cartoon bull sugar bowl on the other side of the pot.

Lorelei didn’t especially want any more caffeine since she already felt wired and edgy, though she sipped some, anyway. She opened her mouth to speak, but Dax held her off by lifting his finger in a “wait a second” gesture. He finished that mug, refilled it and went through the ice-cube routine before drinking more as if it were the cure for whatever ailed him.

“All right,” he finally said. “I’m human now so tell me why you’re here.”

Dax opened another of the cabinets, pulled out a twin pack of strawberry Pop-Tarts. He offered her one, and when she shook her head to decline, he bit into both of them at once. When he finally stopped moving and leaned against the counter, Lorelei knew that was her cue to spill why she was there.

“Do you know about the Last Ride Society?” she asked.

More surprise flickered through his eyes. Then, realization. Then, concern. “That’s the cemetery-drawing deal, right?”

Lorelei nodded. That was, indeed, an accurate if not somewhat thin description of it.

“The Last Ride Society was formed decades ago by the town’s founder and my ancestor, Hezzie Parkman,” she explained and went into the spiel she’d heard since childhood. “Hezzie wanted her descendants to preserve the area’s history by having a quarterly drawing so that one Parkman would then in turn draw the name of a local tombstone to research.”

Research that required the Parkman who’d drawn the name to dig into the deceased person’s history, take a photo of the tombstone and write a report for all the town to read. Well, for all the town who was interested in reading such things, anyway. Which was apparently more than one might think. Lorelei didn’t have the stats of those doing the reading, but there was always enough chatter about it to indicate dozens if not hundreds did.

“My brother’s name was drawn last year,” Dax muttered.

Yes, and that was the reason for the concern in his eyes. His brother Griff had ended his own life, and that had come out in the research. Lorelei was hoping that would stay the big bombshell of all future drawings. She definitely didn’t want another revelation this time around.

“I won the drawing this quarter.” Lorelei put won in air quotes. “And I drew Dana Smith’s name.”

She watched him carefully to see if there was any recognition. There wasn’t. He just ate more of the Pop-Tarts and kept his gaze leveled on her.

“I’m guessing you think I can help you with the research on this Dana Smith,” he said. “But I didn’t know her. Who is she?”

Relief washed over Lorelei. Temporary relief, anyway. Since Dax didn’t know Dana, that should mean he wasn’t the naked guy in the photo she’d found in Dana’s things. Should mean. But if Dax had slept around as much as the gossips claimed, then maybe he didn’t know all the names of his lovers.

“No one knows a lot about Dana,” Lorelei explained. “She moved to Last Ride a little over a year ago, and right before she died, she was living in one of the cottages behind the library.”

Definitely not a cheap rental since it was just one block away from Parkman Row, a street with some of the most expensive homes in Last Ride. Lorelei lived on that street because her mother had given her the house that she’d once shared with Lorelei’s late dad.

“Dana was a jewelry artist and kept mostly to herself,” Lorelei went on. “Unfortunately, she died giving birth just a couple of weeks after she arrived in town.”

“Oh, yeah. I remember my brothers talking about this. No one could find her next of kin so you adopted the baby.”

Lorelei nodded. She had, indeed, adopted Stellie after fostering her as a newborn the day she’d been released from the hospital.

Even though Lorelei had already been vetted and approved for both foster care and adoption, the process still hadn’t been easy. It had involved the sheriff’s office sending out missing person’s requests and posting Dana’s name and picture through police channels. After eight months, Child Protective Services had finally given Lorelei the green light to adopt the baby who’d felt like her own right from the start. Ironically, she’d signed the final papers just yesterday morning.

And a couple of hours later, Lorelei had found the picture.

It had felt as if fate had given her a hard jab in the stomach.

“Anyway,” Lorelei continued after she dragged in a long breath, “as I said, I drew her name for the tombstone research, but when I couldn’t find anything on her, I asked Sheriff Corbin if I could take a look at the things Dana had left in the cottage. There wasn’t much, mainly jewelry-making supplies and a few baby things.”

No nursery to speak of, which was a little odd. Just a newborn onesie and a blanket. Still, the doctors believed that Stellie had been born three to four weeks early so maybe Dana just hadn’t gotten around to it yet. But it was troubling. Most women would have set up a space for the baby they were expecting. Then again, most women wouldn’t have moved to a new town during their last trimester.

And that ate away at Lorelei.

Had Dana been on the run from someone or something? Sheriff Corbin had sent in her fingerprints and DNA, and there’d been no matches in the databases. That meant Dana hadn’t had a criminal record. But people could and did run for other reasons, and the bottom line was that Dana Smith was probably an alias since there was no DMV or birth records matching her age and description. It was as if the woman hadn’t existed before she’d driven into town.

Dax shook his head. “Sorry, but I’m still not sure how you think I can help with this.” He stopped, his eyes meeting hers. “You think I hooked up with Dana?”

“The thought occurred to me,” Lorelei confirmed.

But it was a thought she totally wanted to be able to dismiss in the next couple of minutes. Dax was her top candidate right now, but rather than ask for him to bare his butt cheek, she went with a different approach.

She took out her phone and pulled up a photo of Dana. Not an especially good one because there were no good photos of her available. Well, none other than the morgue shot that the sheriff had sent out when searching for her next of kin. Lorelei hadn’t wanted to look at that, though. The one she showed Dax was a picture of Dana taken outside Once Upon a Time where several of her handmade jewelry pieces were being displayed. Unfortunately, Dana hadn’t been looking directly at the camera when the shot was taken.

Dax moved in for a closer look, and she watched as his gaze slid over the petite pregnant brunette with a pixie haircut, shy eyes and lowered chin. According to the ID Dana had used during the short time she’d lived in Last Ride, she was twenty-six, but she looked younger.

“No, I don’t think so,” Dax said, still studying the photo. “But it’s hard to tell. Got a different photo of her?”

Oh, she had a different photo all right. Just not of Dana. It was time to deal with the butt.

“There weren’t a lot of personal items in the cottage where Dana was staying,” Lorelei went on. “But as I said, the sheriff allowed me to go through them. I found a concealed compartment in her purse. I have the same one so I knew it was there. It’s a small sleeve at the bottom of the bag meant to hold a credit card or cash.” She paused, swallowed hard. “And this was in it.”

Her fingers were trembling a little when she took out the photo. Her heart and stomach were trembling a whole lot more than just a little.

“I figure it’s a long shot for this to be you, but...” Lorelei just let that trail off, and she handed him the photo.

Like the one on her phone, Dax moved in for a closer look, but he didn’t take a long study of it. No. He uttered one word that caused Lorelei’s heart to drop to her knees.

“Hell.”