The Rancher Bodyguard. Carla Cassidy
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She entered the shop, turned on the lights and went directly to the back office, where she made a pot of coffee. With a cup of fresh brew in hand, she returned to the sales floor and sat on the stool behind the counter that held the register.
Much of her time the night before had been spent thinking about William, grieving for him while at the same time trying to figure out who might want him dead. The list of potential suspects she had to give to Charlie was frighteningly short.
The morning was unusually quiet. No customers had entered when Dana Taylor came through the door at eleven-thirty. “Hey, Grace,” she said, her tone unusually somber. “How are you holding up?”
“As well as can be expected,” Grace replied. “Right now I’m having trouble wrapping my mind around it all.”
“I’m so sorry,” Dana replied sympathetically.
“I was wondering if maybe you’d be available to take some extra hours for a while. I’m going to be busy with other things.”
“Not a problem,” Dana replied, as she stowed her purse under the counter. “When Ben got home from the hospital last night, he told me not to expect to see a lot of him for the next week or two.” She didn’t quite meet Grace’s eyes.
“There’s a new shipment of handbags in the back. If you have time this afternoon, could you unpack them and get them on display?” Grace asked, desperate to get over the awkwardness of the moment.
“Sure,” Dana agreed. “Any business this morning?”
“Nothing. It’s been quiet.” Grace turned toward the door as it opened to admit Charlie.
An intense burst of electricity shot through her at the sight of him, and instantly every defense she possessed went up.
“Morning, ladies,” he said as he ambled toward the counter. Clad in a pair of snug jeans and a short-sleeved white shirt, he looked half rancher, half businessman and all handsome male.
His square jaw indicated a hint of stubbornness and his eyes were fringed with long, dark lashes. His nose was straight, his lips full enough to give women fantasies of kissing them. In short, Charlie was one hot hunk.
His energy filled the air, and despite her wishes to the contrary, Grace felt a crazy surge of warmth as she gazed at him.
“Good morning, Charlie,” Dana replied. “How are things out at the ranch?”
“Not bad. The cattle are getting fat, and I’ve got a garden full of tomato and pepper plants that are going to yield blue-ribbon-quality product.”
Pride rang in his voice, a pride that surprised Grace. Two years ago, the only things that put that kind of emotion in his voice were his fancy surround-sound system, his state-of-the-art television and the new Italian shoes that cost what most people earned in a month.
He turned his gaze to Grace. “We need to talk,” he said. His smile was gone, and the enigmatic look in his gray eyes created a knot in Grace’s stomach.
“Okay. Come on back to my office,” she said.
He followed her to the back room, where she turned and looked at him. “Something else has happened?”
“No, I just have some new information.”
“What kind of information?” She leaned against the desk, needing the support because she knew with certainty whatever he was about to tell her wasn’t good.
“Did you know that Hope has a boyfriend?” he asked.
She frowned. “Hope is only fifteen. Their relationship can’t be anything serious.”
One of his dark eyebrows quirked upward. “When you’re fifteen, everything is serious. His name is Justin Walker. Do you know him?”
Grace shook her head, and a new shaft of guilt pierced through her. She should have known her sister’s boyfriend. What other things didn’t she know? “So, who is he?”
“He’s a seventeen-year-old high school dropout with a bad reputation,” Charlie replied. “And there’s more. Apparently Justin was a bone of contention between William and Hope. William thought he was too old and was bad news and had forbidden Hope from seeing him.”
Grace sat on the edge of her desk. “How did you find out all of this?”
“I had a brief conversation with Zack this morning. I wanted to be up-to-date on where the investigation was going before meeting you today. And there’s more.”
She eyed him narrowly. “I’m really beginning to hate those words.”
“Then you’re really going to hate this,” he said. “On the night before the murder, Hope and William went out to dinner at the café. An employee told Zack that while there, they had a public argument ending with Hope screaming that she wished he were dead.”
Grace’s heart plummeted to her feet, and she wished she didn’t hate Charlie, because at the moment she wanted nothing more than his big strong arms around her.
Justin Walker lived with a buddy in the Majestic Apartments complex on the outskirts of town. The illustrious name of the apartments had to have been somebody’s idea of a very bad joke.
The small complex had faded from yellow to a weathered gray from the Oklahoma sun and sported several broken windows. The vehicles in the parking lot ran the gamut from souped-up hot rods to a rusty pickup truck missing two tires.
“You sure you want to do this?” Charlie asked dubiously, as he parked in front of the building and cut his engine.
Grace stared at the building in obvious dismay. “Not really, but it has to be done. I want to know exactly what his relationship with Hope was…is. I want to hear it from him, and then I want to hear it from my sister.” She turned to look at Charlie. “Does he work?”
“He’s a mechanic down at the garage, but he called in sick this morning.”
“You managed to learn a lot between last night and now,” she observed.
He shrugged and pulled his keys from the ignition. “It just took a phone call to find out if he was at the garage today. Somehow I knew you’d want to talk to him.” He directed his gaze back at the building. “But, just because he isn’t at work doesn’t mean he’s here.”
“There’s only one way to find out.” She opened her car door and stepped out.
Charlie joined her on the cracked sidewalk and tried not to notice how pretty she looked in the yellow skirt that showcased her shapely legs and the yellow-flowered blouse that hugged her slender curves.
This whole thing would have been so much easier if during the time they’d been apart she sprouted some facial hair