Page 59 of Her Saltwater Cowboy

Chance nodded, and turned back toward the sink, his attention now on the other tool waiting for a bath.

Willow stepped outside, gravel crunching softly beneath her boots. She moved past the side of the house, toward the meadow where she’d have privacy. Her hands trembled as she brought the phone to her ear.

The voice that answered was as oily as she remembered.

“You finally picked up. Thought you were trying to ghost your dear old uncle.”

Her jaw tightened. “You know full well I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“Is that any way to talk to family?”

“You lost your place in our family a long time ago. You’re not welcome anymore.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, dear.”

“I need you to stay away from Mom.”

“And ignore my only living sibling? Not a chance.”

“She has nothing to give you, Uncle. You know that.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Neither do I.”

“Not so fast. I’ve heard all about that fancy ranch you’re living at, the one with the cowboy. That’s a hoot!” He coughed a laugh. “Always knew you’d find someone to support your lifestyle. Never thought it’d be a cowboy, though.

“What do you want with us?”

“I hear you have a new venture too. A whole olive oil operation? My, my, you’ve been busy!”

Willow’s heart pounded. “How do you know about that?”

“Doesn’t matter. Anyway, my guess is your new business will help you take care of your mother and make a substantial donation to your favorite uncle.”

“I told you. I don’t have anything left.”

“Don’t lie to me, Willow. You had money to buy that shiny convertible, didn’t you?”

Lucille.

Her stomach lurched. Had he seen her car? The one everybody made fun of?

“I’m not giving you anything.”

“You sure about that?” he said smoothly. “Because if I don’t see a little kindness from you in the next week, I might just give a call to the local sheriff. Or maybe your boss. Or that fella with the scruffy smile who seems to think you’re just a sweet girl trying to find her place.”

Willow closed her eyes, dread curling in her gut. “You leave them out of this.”

“Then make it easy. Five grand. That’s nothing to a rancher’s chef.” He snickered. “A small price for peace and quiet.”

It wasn’t so much the blackmailing that twisted her insides—that was bad enough on its own.

What had her heart pulsating in an unhappy way was the one thing she hadn’t told Chance. Or anyone. Her mother had given her money for the car. At the time, it seemed like a gift, one out-of-the-blue, surprising, totally unexpected gift.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. She’d bought “Lucille” without asking her mother one question about where she’d found the money. By the time she’d learned the truth, the title was in her name, and she had not one extra cent to her name.

She hadn’t used the funds with any malice, but after all this time, truth did not feel quite like a defense anymore.

Her uncle, likely taking her silence as guilt, hung up.

Willow’s heart thudded against her ribs. Her throat tightened until it felt hard to breathe. She couldn’t let this ruin things. Not after everything she’d done to rebuild. Not when she was finally starting to feel like she belonged here.

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