Page 15 of Cowboy Peril

Face heated, she gathered the laptop and glass and rushed back to her house to change. Hopefully, Colt didn’t know the reason she’d spilt her tea. The man avoided her like she was the snake he thought she’d seen. No way would she force herself on him.

He may have been asked by the sheriff to keep an eye on her, but he could do that from a distance. They lived and worked on the same ranch after all.

Exchanging her leggings for shorts, she stepped back outside, this time with a book in her hand. She sat in the chair on her tiny porch, propped her feet on the railing, and started to read about a serial killer plaguing a small town. Maybe not the best thing to read when someone was out to kill her, but it would hopefully keep her mind off a certain handsome, hazel-eyed cowboy.

~

She’d been right there. So close he could smell the floral cologne she wore. They’d walked side by side to the foreman’s office. Slipping a knife between her ribs would’ve been easy. But,it was too soon. He wanted her to suffer for the humiliation her parents had heaped on his head with their allegations.

What was the big deal if he’d skimmed a few bucks from the company? It wasn’t as if they needed the hundred-thousand he’d taken. Then they’d had the audacity to confront him. To tell him that if he didn’t leave and never come back, they’d report him to the authorities.

Him—Mark Collins. His family could be traced back to the early 1700s when they’d first settled in the state. How dare they threaten to sully his family name!

If his great-grandfather hadn’t gambled away the family fortune, it would’ve been Mr. and Mrs. Wells working for him. He let his gaze sweep over Parker sitting on her porch, before returning it to the cowboy in the corral. It wouldn’t do for anyone to think he paid Parker too much attention.

He had to bide his time and strike when the time was right. The waiting and planning were almost as good as what he’d imagined killing the last of the Wells family would be like.

Chapter Seven

After a fewdays of not being able to leave the ranch for one reason or another, Parker contacted the manager of the storage complex where her parents used to store outdated files and asked them to hire someone to deliver the boxes to the ranch. Now, she watched two men carry box after box into her tiny house and stack them against the wall.

“Doesn’t leave much room, Lady,” one of them said.

“I have enough.” Other than sleeping, she spent most of her time helping out in the main house. She handed each man a twenty-dollar bill, then turned to study the boxes that reached as high as her head and filled one wall. There had to be over twenty boxes, and these were only for the current year.

She wasn’t sure what she’d find, but her father had kept impeccable records. There would be something in those boxes to help her find their killer.

A quick glance at her phone had her scurrying to the main house, locking the door behind her. With Marilyn on a ranch errand, that left Mrs. White without help for the noon meal. Not that Parker could help cook, but she could set the table and fetch ingredients from the pantry. Things a child could do.

“What’s happening at your place?” Mrs. White covered a chicken leg with breadcrumbs.

“Files from my father’s office. I hope they’ll help me find out who killed him.” She put on an apron while staring out the kitchen window.

Men scurried around the barn site. Having cleared the debris and marked the foundation, they were ready to pour the cement. The original barn had only had dirt floors.

“When does Mr. Wyatt return?” Parker lifted the stack of plates from the counter.

“No idea. He left the return date open. Take those to the table under the tent. Too many to feed in the kitchen.”

“You’re feeding more than the ranch hands?”

“Absolutely. If you’re here at mealtime, you get fed.” She winked. “Plus, Colt told me to cook enough for everyone.”

Parker shrugged and carried the first load of plates outside.

“Let me.” A man who looked to be around forty years of age reached for the plates. “I’m headed back from the port-a-potty and can take these. I’m Mark Collins.”

“Thank you. I’m Parker Wells.” She smiled and returned to the house for the rest of the plates. When she returned outside, Mark was waiting for her. Since she was used to a man’s attention and had no qualms about having men work for her, she handed him the plates and went inside for utensils.

When she returned outside again, Colt was waiting for her rather than Mark. “I sent him on his way. He isn’t being paid to help you.”

She grinned. “Jealous?”

His eyes flashed. “What’s with all the boxes you had delivered?”

Okay. Not jealous or in a teasing mood. She explained how she hoped to find something of value inside. “I won’t stop until the man who killed my parents and Tanya is brought to justice.”

“Sticking your nose into police business can get you killed right along with them.”

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