the mantra didn’t roll off the tongue so well when she thought about how the local folks who had worked hard to raise money for charity were being misled. The Texas Cattleman’s Club had hosted the event, and their members were a who’s who list of the town’s most influential people. Lydia wanted to put roots down in Royal. She’d already bought the fixer-upper property to start her child care business here. The last thing she needed was a mark against her family name because of Gail’s impulsiveness.
Maybe she could at least explain the situation to someone before the news surfaced about Gail’s lack of payment.
Scrolling back to the news piece, she found the name she was looking for. James Harris. The MC of the event must have been the one who’d tried contacting Gail. She’d missed seeing his photo in the margin of the story the first time, too dismayed by her sister’s behavior to see beyond the text of the story. But now, Lydia’s eyes lingered on the image of the man who was also the current president of the Texas Cattleman’s Club.
Handsome didn’t begin to describe him. The photo showed him in front of the organization’s historic clubhouse building, a fawn-colored Stetson shielding his face from the Texas sun. Tall and well built, he wore a fitted gray jacket that skimmed impressive muscles. Broad where a man should be. Lean in the hips. An angular jaw with a great smile. She couldn’t see his eyes clearly because they were shadowed by the brim of his hat, but his skin was a warm, inviting brown.
She blinked fast to banish the image from her brain since she could not afford to be sidelined by the man’s potent sex appeal. Lydia was not in the market for romance. Her mother’s active, dramatic love life had given Lydia a front-row seat for the way romance changed people. Fiona had metamorphosed into someone new for each guy she’d dated, heedless of how her whims affected the whole family. Lydia wasn’t looking for even mild flirtation, especially not with someone her sister had bilked out of a small fortune.
She knew better than to try to fix things that were out of her control, but she could at least extend Mr. Harris the common courtesy of explaining Gail’s situation. And, perhaps, learn possible options for compromise on the bill so she could speak sensibly to her sister upon her return. If she could still salvage some goodwill in the community in spite of Gail’s fake bid, it would be a minor miracle.
Lydia had an appointment to meet with the contractor who was supposed to work on her kitchen at noon. But right after that, she’d stop by the Texas Cattleman’s Club.
And hope with all her heart that James Harris was an understanding man.
“Lydia Walker is here to see you,” the disembodied voice announced through James Harris’s office intercom system.
He straightened from where he’d been practicing his golf swing in his office at the clubhouse. Although he’d never been much of a golfer, he had a golf tournament on his calendar and his competitive streak bristled at the idea of bringing down his foursome. Besides, focusing on a sport during his lunch break helped distract him from the knot of stress at the base of his spine. He’d never guessed the amount of work that came with his new position in the TCC, duties that ate into his time running his own ranch every day. But to complicate matters immeasurably, he now had a toddler nephew to raise.
When his brother, Parker, and Parker’s wife had died in a car accident three months ago, James had been devastated. But in addition to his own grief at losing a loved one he’d deeply respected, he had been struggling with the fact that Parker’s will entrusted James with the care of his son, Teddy. The weight of that responsibility threatened to take his knees out from under him if he allowed himself to dwell on it too long.
“Walker?” James repeated. The stress knot in his back tightened more at the mention of his visitor’s name. Setting aside the putter, he walked closer to the intercom. “As in the woman who ran off without paying her bachelor bid last week?”
How could someone publicly bid money they didn’t have? Or maybe she did have the money, but she just didn’t care to give the $100,000 she promised to the Pancreatic Cancer Research Foundation. Unwilling to risk the bad publicity, especially for an event he’d supervised, he’d ended up covering the debt himself. Better to keep the club out of the papers.
That didn’t mean the matter was settled.
“That was Gail Walker.” The woman at the desk out front lowered her voice. “Maybe Lydia is a relative.”
“Send her in.” He kicked two golf balls under the couch near the window. Lately, he didn’t mind extending his hours on-site at the clubhouse since there was a child care facility in the building and it seemed the one place his nephew was content. At home, Teddy was a handful. And then some.
James strode toward his office door to greet his guest. He hoped she was carrying a big fat check. Because while James hadn’t begrudged spending his personal funds on a worthy cause, he couldn’t help but resent a woman who felt no obligation to uphold a social contract.
Pulling open the office door, he could see he’d startled the woman on the other side.
Tall and slim, she had light brown hair and honey-colored skin that set off wide hazel eyes. She was dressed in khakis and a neat white blouse with a long pink sweater belted at her waist. She had one hand raised as if to knock while she nibbled at her lush lower lip. Her gaze darted anxiously to his.
A wholly unexpected attraction blindsided him.
He stared at her a beat too long.
“Lydia Walker?” He offered his hand belatedly, irritated with himself for the wayward thoughts. “I’m James Harris.”
“Nice to meet you.” Her handshake was cool and firm. Businesslike. “Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Harris.”
“Please, call me James.” Standing back, he waved her into the office, leaving the door open to the clubhouse behind her. He glanced over toward the double doors leading into the child care facility, half expecting to see Teddy banging on the window. Or a child care worker running for the hills. But all was quiet. Thankfully. Returning his attention to his guest, he said, “Have a seat.”
James gestured to one of the leather chairs near the windows overlooking the garden and swimming pool. The TCC president’s office had been remodeled along with the rest of the historic building. Larger windows and higher ceilings now let in more light, and there were brighter colors in the decor. But the dark hardwood floors and oversize leather furnishings retained the feel of a men’s club from a bygone era. Historic photographs and artifacts from the club’s storied past filled the walls.
For a few hours here each week, he could pretend his life was normal again. That he wasn’t a stand-in father struggling to provide a home for an eighteen-month-old boy who surely felt the absence of his parents, yet was far too young to express himself. Dragging his fractured thoughts back to the appealing woman in his office, James focused on the here and now.
“Can I get you something to drink, Ms. Walker? Coffee or tea? A water?”
“No, thank you. And please call me Lydia.” She set her simple leather handbag on the floor by her feet while he lowered himself into the chair beside hers. “I won’t take up much of your time. I just came to see what I could to do in regard to my sister’s debt. I’ve been out of town, and I only just read the news this morning.”
“Ah.” He nodded, admiring her frank approach. “I appreciate that, Lydia, but I’m not sure how much I’m at liberty to divulge regarding your sister’s…finances.”
