Claimed by a Cowboy Page 2

  We weren’t her only family. Wanda might have been “like a mom” to him, but she was a real mother to someone else. If there was one thing Wanda had talked about more than her legends, herbs and woo-woo philosophies, it was Lorelei. Sam’s jaw tightened. He’d heard dozens of stories about Lorelei, who’d pretended at five that her bicycle was a horse named Spokes and, at ten, had been the first in her class to memorize all the state capitals. Wanda always bragged that Lorelei was as “smart as a whip,” which would explain the extra cords and whatnot draped over the young woman’s gown in graduation pictures.

  Most of the family photos Wanda liked to show off were from back when her husband was alive and Lorelei had been a chubby-cheeked little girl. The most recent portrait he’d seen was from several years ago: a flinty-eyed, unsmiling college grad who looked just a bit too smug beneath her mortarboard. Wanda had always made excuses for why her pride-and-joy didn’t visit. Sam was less inclined to do so.

  “Things were hard for her after her dad died,” Wanda had said once, looking faraway and sad.

  Not wanting to upset his friend, Sam had held his tongue. But he had trouble sympathizing. As a child, he, too, had lost a father. What he’d needed most was comfort from his mother. Instead…

  Sam didn’t realize he’d been absently petting the cat until he stopped and Oberon butted his head into Sam’s arm, protesting.

  “Enough of this,” Sam told the cat. “You want me to pet you, you have to come with me into the den. No more sitting in the dark, crying into our beer. Metaphorically speaking. Let’s see what’s on the tube.”

  He gently set the cat on the floor, and, sure enough, Oberon followed him down the hallway. They passed by a framed picture of Lorelei as a teenager and Sam shook his head. If the woman was so damn smart, why hadn’t she known how lucky she was to have Wanda?

  LORELEI WAS A LITTLE surprised that the man behind the counter handed over keys to the rental car. After her sleepless night and turbulent flight into San Antonio this morning, she had deep bags beneath her bloodshot eyes. She probably looked strung out and wouldn’t have blamed the guy if he’d insisted on some kind of drug test before letting her drive a car off the lot. Then again, he was already a little scared of her from when she’d growled, “Trust me, I understand the optional insurance policy, you can stop overexplaining!” So maybe his thrusting the keys at her was less about customer service and more about getting rid of her.

  “Your luggage is already in the trunk,” he informed her. “You have a nice day.”

  Not a chance in hell. “Thank you,” she said tightly. She’d been speaking through clenched lips all day; now she gripped the keys so hard they dug into her palm.

  It was as if she were trying to hold herself together through sheer physical force because if she didn’t, Lorelei might fly apart. She stalked across the lot toward her assigned car, barely giving herself a moment to buckle in and adjust the seat and mirrors before heading for the exit. If she paused to consult a map, paused to find a radio station, paused for one second to think…

  Although it had been a while since her last trip here—I’m sorry, Mom. I will always be sorry—she knew the I-10 route by heart. There were no surprise detours this Wednesday afternoon. The city gave way to unmanicured vistas, tree-studded hills and pastures that looked furry due to bunches of some tawny untamed grass.

  About fifteen minutes from Fredericksburg, she stopped at a filling station to use their restroom even though it wasn’t really necessary. Maybe she was just stalling because she couldn’t face what awaited her.

  It was surprisingly warm outside—she’d dressed that morning for March in Philly, not March in Texas. On her drive, she’d already seen a few patches of bluebonnets in bloom. Wanda had loved plants of all kinds. Lorelei had a stray memory of a picnic with her parents, long ago, in a field of wildflowers. Her mother had told her a Native American legend about how flowers had become fragrant. Wanda had grown plants both decorative and functional in window boxes and pots all through their house and yard. She and her husband had turned to medicinal herbs and holistic treatments when he was diagnosed with liver cancer, rather than to oncologists.

  With a hard swallow, Lorelei climbed back into the rental car, annoyed with herself for postponing the inevitable. She could stop every mile between here and the bed-and-breakfast and it wouldn’t change anything. I’ve lost them both.

  When she’d called Ava last night with her flight details, Ava had volunteered her husband, Clinton, to come pick up Lorelei in San Antonio. “If you insist on driving yourself, at least call us when you get close. We’ll meet you at the B and B.”

  Lorelei had thanked the woman sincerely for the offer but had said she’d call them later because she might want a nap before seeing anyone. It had been a half truth. There was no way she’d be able to sleep, but she needed to be alone in her mother’s inn. Being there would solidify the loss and Lorelei wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep from detonating. The last thing she wanted was a witness.

  Though she had to slow down temporarily for a stretch of road where signs warned Loose Livestock, she didn’t encounter traffic. Judging from the wry sign on a dilapidated diner—Over a Dozen Served!—she was officially on the road less traveled. All too soon, she was turning onto the street where the Haunted Hill Country Bed-and-Breakfast sat.

  Lorelei parked the car in front of the stone-faced two-story building, bracing herself for not hearing her mother’s voice when she walked inside. Would she still smell the uniquely familiar blend of lemon, lavender and nutmeg from the incenses and oils Wanda had favored? Those aromatherapy scents had permeated the entire inn. Except during Christmas seasons when the bed-and-breakfast was filled with fresh pine and baking gingerbread.

  “Get out of the car,” Lorelei muttered. If she sat in the driveway much longer, some kind passerby would stop to tell her that the B and B wasn’t currently open for business, that the owner had…

  She wrenched open the door, then crossed the short sidewalk leading to the porch. The front steps creaked softly beneath her weight, and she was attempting to fish the key from her purse when the door swung open.

  A tall man in a plaid button-down shirt and a cowboy hat greeted her. “Sorry, we’re not— Ah. It’s you.”

  She drew herself up straighter, the involuntary reflex making her feel a touch juvenile. Even if she stood on tippy-toe, she wouldn’t be level with him. He was at least six feet. “I’m L—”

  “Oh, I know who you are,” he interrupted in a lazy drawl. He rocked back on his heels, seemingly in no hurry to move the hell out of her way so she could lock herself in a bedroom and have a private breakdown. Not that indulging in an emotional fit would bring her mother back.

  “You’re little Lori,” he continued, thumbs hooked in the front pockets of his jeans. “Wanda’s girl, all grown up.”

  She almost snapped that she wasn’t anyone’s “little” anything. She was five foot eight for crying out loud! And what was with the all-grown-up condescension? He looked three or four years older, tops. “I go by Lorelei. No one’s ever called me Lori, particularly not total strangers who block doorways.” She glared meaningfully.

  He glared back.

  “So who are you?” she demanded. “An employee?”

  “Not exactly.” Hardly an informative answer, but at least he stepped to the side.

  “Ava told me all the guests were relocated,” she said as she crossed the threshold into the foyer. A cursory glance at the adjacent dining room and den showed that everything was as she remembered—except for her mom’s absence and this annoying man’s presence. “I had expected to be alone.”

  The man shrugged. “Someone had to take care of Oberon.”

  How could she have forgotten the maniacal cat? As a scraggly kitten, Oberon had shown up on the front porch while Wanda
and the real estate agent had been doing a walk-through of the inn.

  “He was a sign,” Wanda had told her daughter over the phone. “I was meant to buy this place, and he was meant to keep me company. It’s been so lonely with your father gone and you at college.”

  “Ow!” A sudden scratch to the ankle jolted Lorelei back to the present, and she bumped the willkommen table. Brochures detailing area activities sat alongside the guestbook and one pamphlet fell to the floor. A telltale white paw jutted out from beneath the tablecloth. Speak of the freaking devil.

  Grimacing, she took a large step away from the table and, more importantly, the extended claws. “I see Oberon hasn’t mellowed with age.”

  “Nope.”

  She suppressed a sigh at the man’s flat tone. Good thing he was attractive; he’d be doomed if all he had going for him was personality. Attractive? That must be the sleep deprivation talking. While she couldn’t find fault with the cowboy’s well-muscled body—and his green eyes were admittedly arresting—he was a bit scruffy with his too-long dark golden hair and the stubble dotting his jawline. Not her type at all.

  “I assume you have a name?” she prompted.

  He flashed a mocking smile that lasted just long enough to reveal deep dimples. “Good assumption. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Miz Keller, I was on my way out. Help yourself to any room except the Faust suite. That’s mine.”

  As in, he would be sleeping there? She’d hoped he was only dropping by to feed the cat. “You’ll be back tonight?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He must have caught the dismay in her expression because his eyes narrowed. “Don’t worry, this place is plenty big enough for both of us.”

  Despite the multiple bedrooms in the two-floor structure, she didn’t believe him. And she couldn’t help noticing he didn’t seem convinced, either.

  THE DOOR BANGED SHUT in Sam’s wake as he strode toward the truck parked behind the inn. He wanted to leave quickly, before the B and B’s omnipresent reminders of Wanda nettled his conscience like the spines of a prickly pear cactus. She would have wanted him to be more welcoming to her daughter. Hard to believe they’re related.

  He’d known from pictures that Lorelei was dark-haired and striking. He just hadn’t realized she was so tall; her mama had been a round little dumpling of a woman. Other than her height, though, Lorelei Keller had been pretty much what he’d expected. Purse-lipped and haughty, with no mention of her mother. Granted, Lorelei’s dark eyes had been puffy, but no more than most tourists’ in pollen season.

  He could almost hear his former landlady’s chiding voice. Oh, and you were a real charmer during that encounter? You didn’t even give her a chance. With a sigh, he glanced back over his shoulder, then retraced his steps.

  Through the window in the door, he could see the brunette slumped in a chair at the kitchen table, much the same way he’d been last night. As soon as he turned the knob, her backbone went ramrod straight. Her expensive-looking cinnamon-colored sweater dress was probably hot and itchy on a day like this. Over it, she wore some kind of full-body vest in an even darker brown. In contrast, he couldn’t help recalling the way Wanda had cheerfully embraced colors—the brighter, the better.

  “Forget something?” Lorelei asked without turning to look at him.

  “Just wanted to say, name’s Sam Travis. I was a good friend of your mother’s. Damn fine woman.” He paused a beat, to see if Lorelei recognized his name or had any comment. Did she know what Ava suspected, that Wanda had altered her will in the past year? “I’m the one who found her. Yesterday.”

  Red-rimmed eyes met his, and Lorelei swallowed, struggling to speak. “Do you think she was in pain?”

  “She complained of a headache when she went to bed the night before, but no, I don’t think she suffered. Doc Singer made it sound as if it was about as peaceful as passing can be.”

  Lorelei drew in a shaky breath. “Thank you, Sam.”

  He nodded uncomfortably. “I won’t be back for a couple of hours, but is there anything I can bring you from town? Anything you need?”

  Her gaze clashed with his, naked and vulnerable. For a split second, all he saw was need. Then she blinked, eradicating the defenselessness so fast he could pretend he’d imagined it.

  “That won’t be necessary,” she said. “But I appreciate the offer. By the way, I’ve decided to take the wolf suite.”

  The one farthest in the house from his.

  Good. Maybe they would only bump into each other a minimum of times before the memorial service on Saturday.

  He knew from Wanda’s lawyer that the reading of the will would follow—Wanda’s way of making sure that on the same day her loved ones were honoring her, she’d get to express her love for them—and Sam’s attendance was requested. Considering how much Wanda had adored her prodigal daughter, would she really have left Sam the inn?

  And what the hell was he going to do with it if she had?

  Chapter Three

  Lorelei hung up the phone with a sigh and glanced across the kitchen. Ava was stocking the refrigerator with all manner of casseroles and comfort foods. Judging by the dozens of containers she’d arrived with an hour ago, she’d been cooking nonstop since yesterday.

  “That was the last one,” Lorelei said wearily. She’d gone through her mom’s reservation file at the computer and called to cancel all the guests scheduled for the following week. After that… Well, surviving this week was the first step.

  Lorelei didn’t really know what she would do about the inn. She supposed hiring someone to manage it for her was a possibility, but she’d never really warmed to this place. When her mother—who’d worked previous jobs as a cook in another hotel and an administrative assistant in the town tourism bureau—first said she wanted to open her own inn, Lorelei had thought it would be a good fit for her, assuming Wanda could get the necessary loans. Ever since her husband’s death, Wanda had slipped into more and more elaborate flights of fancy. She used to wake Lorelei up in the middle of the night to excitedly tell her, “Your daddy visited me again. He’s watching over us, honey, and he’s real proud of you.” Lorelei had wanted to shake her, had wanted to yell at her mother to stop it. It was so hard to let go and heal when Wanda kept his specter alive and well in their home. Lorelei had foolishly presumed that running a business would keep Wanda more grounded.

  Should’ve known better. There were lots of bed-and-breakfasts and guest ranches dotting the Hill Country. Wanda had tried to set hers apart with its theme. Her place served as sort of a museum for Hill Country folklore and ghost stories. Each guest room was based on some local legend.

  For instance, Lorelei’s room, from the comforter printed with running wolves to the hand-carved figures on the wooden vanity, centered on the wolf spirit that “haunted” nearby Devil’s Backbone, an area also rumored to host the apparitions of monks, Native Americans and Confederate soldiers. Sam’s suite was based on the famed Faust Hotel, a historic haunted site, and Wanda had decorated it based on old photos she’d seen of the establishment. The only creepy room was the one based on a cave, in which Wanda had blacked out the windows and bat noises played periodically through a hidden speaker. In addition to the themed decorating, Wanda had also arranged tours that took visitors through the region from one “unexplained phenomenon” to another. And Wanda had always been a hell of a storyteller, probably because she believed the outlandish tales she shared.

  “She’ll be missed,” one of the scheduled guests had told Lorelei, choked up by the news that the inn’s proprietor had died. “My husband and I came to the Haunted Hill Country every year for our anniversary, and we just loved Wanda. Your mother was a special woman.”

  Ava came toward her with two cups of coffee. “You look like you could use some.” Then she reached into a cabinet beneath the counter and procured a bottle of
whiskey. “And maybe a shot of this with it.”

  Lorelei gave a dry laugh. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but she appreciated the thought. “Thanks, Ava.”

  “Least I can do.” Ava slid her glasses up on her nose with a finger. “I wish you had let me help with those calls. You didn’t have to take care of them alone. Can’t be easy to tell people over and over that your mama’s gone.”

  “I wanted to.” Saying it forced her to accept it. Running from the truth wouldn’t change it. “I needed to be doing something, keeping busy.”

  Ava cast a sheepish look over her shoulder, at the crammed full refrigerator. “Guess I can understand that.”

  Lorelei poured a modest token shot into her coffee and raised her eyebrows questioningly at Ava, who nodded and pushed her own mug across the counter.

  “Hit me, barkeep.” Ava waited for her own more generous slug, then stirred cream into both mugs with a cinnamon stick.

  Lorelei inhaled deeply. Her mug smelled like heaven. “Ava, can I ask you a…delicate question?”

  The older woman nodded, her faded grey eyes earnest. “I know we haven’t seen much of each other in the years since you got your degree, but Wanda was the closest thing I ever had to a sister. I’d be honored if you thought of me as kin.”

  “Was there something romantic going on between Mom and Sam Travis?”

  Ava spluttered, choking on coffee.

  “Sorry.” Lorelei handed her a couple of napkins, feeling guilty as Ava continued to cough.