Page 37 of Still A Cowboy
Willa had tried calling him half a dozen times. Brent never answered.
Cal watched her now, her jaw tight, her hands balled at her sides. She was soaked through, and the wet strands of her hair clung to her neck.
Delia looked up from the bar as they came in. She set down a tray of pint glasses and took them both in with one sharp glance.
“You,” she said, pointing at Willa, “are takingthe night off. I don’t want to hear it. You step behind this bar, and all you’re going to get is gossip about that video.”
Willa opened her mouth to argue, but Delia cut her off with a look.
“Go upstairs. Get dry. Get warm. I’ve got the bar,” her mom insisted.
Cal glanced at Willa, waiting to see if she would fight it. She didn’t. She just sighed and dragged a hand through her dripping hair.
“Fine. But I’m not going to bed yet.” She shot him a sideways look. “We’ve still got some figuring out to do.”
Cal smiled, despite the frustration still chewing at him. “Good. I’m not done yet either.”
At the top of the stairs, Cal paused, water dripping from his hair onto his shoulders. Willa stopped beside him, her damp clothes clinging in a way that made it very hard for him to think straight.
She looked at him, something tired but determined in her eyes. “I’m going to shower and change. Maybe afterward we can dig online, see if we can find proof Brent posted the video.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Same here. I need to get out of these wet clothes.”
What he really wanted was to do all thatwithher. Strip, shower, get clean, get tangled—but right now, she needed answers more than she needed his hands on her.
“Meet you in a bit?” he asked.
“Yeah. Give me twenty.”
She turned and headed for her apartment, and just before he followed suit, he noticed a small brown paper bag sitting on the floor by his door.
A note was taped to the front in Delia’s neat handwriting.Made too many. Figured you’d like some. Enjoy!
Cal peeked inside and couldn’t help the snort that came out. Dick cookies. The sagging, misshapen “cornucopias” Delia had served them earlier. He shook his head, grabbed the bag, and carried it inside.
He stripped out of his wet jeans and shirt, took a quick, hot shower to chase off the chill, then pulled on dry jeans and a soft flannel shirt. While he toweled his hair, his thoughts kept circling Brent. There was no way this wasn’t him. The question was why. And how deep was he planning to drag Willa into it?
He shoved his feet into his boots and grabbed the bag of ridiculous cookies. He figured Willa would either laugh or threaten to throw one at him. Honestly, either reaction worked for him.
Cal didn’t have any cocoa in his grocery stash. He didn’t have wine either. But he did have beer.
He pulled a couple from the mini fridge, set them on the small table, and grabbed a plate for the cookies. He arranged the lopsided, inappropriate cornucopia shapes as if they were some kind of prize-winning dessert.
They were definitely not prize-winning.
It hadn’t been twenty minutes yet. Willa would still be in the shower, probably warming up and maybe wondering why Delia had left the world’s worst-shaped cookies outside his door.
Cal wandered over to the window and looked out across the street at the Driftwood Manor. The curtain was still open, but the camera was gone.
His gaze drifted down to the street just in time to catch a figure leaving the back door of the manor. A woman, bundled in a heavy coat with the hood pulled up high, her face tucked out of sight. She moved quickly, slipping down the narrow side path toward the next block.
Misty?
Possibly.
Cal considered it, his hand tightening around the edge of the window frame. He could go after her. Could ask her straight out what game Brent and she were playing, why the video had been leaked.
But then a knock sounded at his door.
