Claimed by a Cowboy Read online

  “Why don’t we all stop and take a deep breath?” Ava interjected nervously. “Robert, calm down. I don’t think Lorelei plans to run out and file a suit. She’s just surprised, is all. Give her a minute to adjust.”

  “That might take more than a ‘minute,’” Lorelei muttered. “But thank you, Ava.” She was in the process of relaxing back into her chair when she froze, eyes widening. “Ava, you don’t seem all that surprised. Did you know about this? That Mom left the B and B to him?”

  Sam’s jaw clenched at her tone. “Excuse me?” He hadn’t asked for Wanda to do this! He didn’t deserve to be discussed with the same kind of loathing historically reserved for rattlesnakes and horse thieves.

  “Well, I’m sorry,” Lorelei grumbled, clearly not sorry at all. Her gaze was as sharp as a bowie knife. “But you can’t just turn over an established business to someone because you…what? Liked the color of his aura? How did you get her to do this?”

  “What do you mean ‘get her’ to do it?” he growled. As if he were some con artist who looked for opportunities to swindle kind-hearted ladies out of their property?

  Lorelei looked momentarily abashed. “I just don’t understand. I’m her only living family.”

  Sam saw red. Even though he consciously tried not to dwell on the past, he could still hear his mother’s oh-so-sincere tone when she’d dropped him off with his uncle. Just because I won’t be here every day doesn’t mean we aren’t still family. I’ll be back for you, Sammy. He had no patience for people who were related only when it was convenient.

  “Do you think family is just genetics?” he challenged Lorelei. “Because it meant a lot more than that to Wanda. You say you’re confused—well, so am I. And what I want to know is, just where the hell have you been for the past two years?”

  With that, he got up and stormed out, so ticked off that he temporarily forgot he didn’t even want the inn.

  THERE WAS A SHOCKED silence following Sam’s departure. No one was more shocked than Lorelei. She kept trying to reconcile the righteously indignant man who’d just given her an earful with the taciturn cowboy she’d first met. I think I liked him better when he was monosyllabic and uncooperative.

  She turned to Ava and Robert, Sam’s parting shot still ringing in her ears. “It hasn’t been two whole years,” she said. Immediately, she was annoyed both by the sudden need to justify her actions and how lame her attempt had been.

  Ava was far too gracious to roll her eyes. “We know, dear. Sam’s just…”

  “Just what?” Lorelei demanded in frustration. “I don’t even understand who he was to Mom.”

  “Maybe I should give you ladies a chance to talk privately,” Robert suggested. Beneath his suit jacket, his shirt clung to him in damp patches. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and he eyed the doorway like a hostage evaluating his chance for escape.

  Lorelei sighed. “I’m sure you can understand that it’s been a difficult day for all of us. Maybe we could talk next week, after I’ve had a chance to read through this folder you gave me?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Absolutely,” he said as he stood. “Call me anytime.”

  “Thank you. There’s coffee and lemonade and lots of delicious-looking cakes downstairs. You should try some before you go.”

  Nodding, he clutched his briefcase close and disappeared down the hall.

  Ava shook her head. “Five bucks says he clears the staircase and bolts out the front door in under thirty seconds.”

  Lorelei chuckled, and the other woman leaned forward to pat her cheek.

  “There’s the smile that reminds me of your mom,” Ava said approvingly.

  “I don’t look anything like her,” Lorelei said, too practical to pretend otherwise, even on a day like today, when she might take comfort in thinking she did.

  “Maybe not, but Wanda was all about looking at a person’s spirit, not just their face. I’d like to think some of her spirit lives on in you.”

  Lorelei expelled a puff of air. At least Ava wasn’t planning to have tea with her mother’s ghost. “You were pretty evasive the other day when I tried to ask you about Sam. Was that because you didn’t know how to tell me about Mom’s will?”

  Ava raised an eyebrow. “The only specific question I remember you asking was if they were romantically involved, which I believe I answered.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll try to be more specific this time. Who is he and why is he here?”

  “Sam was working on a nearby ranch during a real dry summer, helping with the horses, and a fire broke out. They got all the animals safely out of the barn, but we hadn’t had any rain in months and the fire spread. Once it was put out, he and about half a dozen others needed places to stay. Some of the local hotel owners offered up free rooms, and Sam ended up here. But he wasn’t comfortable taking one of the rooms without paying, so he did some work around the inn for your mom. He comes and goes from Fredericksburg, helping with various trail rides and taking different jobs throughout the region. They got to be close. I think Wanda looked on him like the son she never had.”

  That hurt enough to knock the breath out of Lorelei. Her mother had left her most valued possession to a man who was “like a son” instead of to the daughter she’d actually had?

  Ava tilted her head sympathetically. “Oh, honey. Your mother loved you. She was so proud of you.”

  “Yeah. I hear that a lot,” Lorelei said. What had Sam said when he’d found her sorting through her mother’s pictures? That Wanda had looked for opportunities to brag about her?

  “I think maybe she worried about Sam. I don’t know the details of his childhood, but he doesn’t seem to have anybody.”

  What about all those times after Lorelei’s dad had died when she had felt alone? She dropped her head into her hands, the irony pounding at her temples.

  “You have your life in Philadelphia, a job you love and I’m sure lots of friends there. And apparently a successful lawyer you’re dating?”

  “Rick,” she said numbly. “Rick Caulden.”

  “What a shame your mother never got to meet him,” Ava said.

  Lorelei bit her lip, unable to imagine such an introduction—Rick, in his designer suit and Italian shoes, shaking hands with Wanda, in her tie-dyed tunics and lucky pig earrings. Would Rick have looked on the whimsical older woman with derision? Wanda would have clucked over his long hours and his devotion to the law practice. Lorelei could easily guess what her mother would have to say about his work schedule because Lorelei had heard similar lectures about her own life. She didn’t understand me.

  Which was mutual. Try as she might, Lorelei couldn’t understand why her mother had changed her will.

  “Are you going to be all right, dear?” Ava asked. “I could get you some coffee.”

  “No, thank you.” Lorelei had put away so much coffee since her arrival that she probably had more caffeine than blood running through her veins. “I think I may go to my room for just a little while.” That sounded so much like running away that she added, “To check my work email and voice mail. In case anyone needs me.” But she was starting to worry…what if no one did?

  SAM MET HIS OWN reproachful gaze in the rectangular mirror above the old-fashioned dresser in his room. “Not your finest hour, Travis.” Provoked or not, it was flat wrong to yell at a lady the day of her mother’s funeral. His uncle, were he still alive, would have smacked him upside the head for that outburst in the library.

  Although JD Travis had always been forthright about his contempt for his sister-in-law, telling Sam he was better off without a “gold digger who’d dump her own kid,” even JD drew the line at being outright rude to a woman. On the few occasions when Rita Travis Hart had remembered she had a son, JD mostly limited his comments to grunts with “ma’am” tacked on the end. He certainly would
n’t have yelled at her, although Sam used to wish his uncle would.

  Sam had been poleaxed by the unfairness of life—first losing his workaholic father to a heart attack, then being handed off to an uncle he barely knew so his grieving mother could “get herself together.” Her recovery had included finding husband number two—a wealthy businessman from Dallas. Sam had been too afraid of alienating her further to lash out. But he’d dreamed of someone championing his cause and demanding to know how Rita could live with herself, cheerfully creating a second family as if her first one had never existed.

  All of which was ancient history and didn’t excuse his temper this afternoon.

  Sam raised his gaze upward. “Sorry, Wanda.” She would have been even less pleased over his behavior than JD. What had she imagined would happen when the news broke? Sam was equal parts touched and exasperated that she had chosen to leave him such a—burden—gift.

  He went back to that moment when Robert Stork had made the announcement, the look of utter incredulity on Lorelei’s face. Any sense of camaraderie they’d shared that morning had been annihilated in an instant. He experienced a twinge of loss almost like a paper cut, sharp and sudden. How much could it really matter if Lorelei Keller disliked him or believed he’d somehow maneuvered himself into her mother’s will? He had no doubt Lorelei would be out of Texas as soon as humanly possible, back to her life up north and that Rick guy.

  Good. Sam wouldn’t be sorry to see her go. In the meantime, however, he wouldn’t let her rile him. He decided to go downstairs for a mug of coffee and one of Ava’s apricot kolaches. If he was able to get a second with Lorelei when she wasn’t surrounded by townspeople, he’d tell her he regretted his behavior.

  Although some folks were beginning to leave, the crowd was still pretty thick. He nodded to a few people he knew on his way to the kitchen. Ava stood at the sink, drying dishes while Clare Theo washed.

  He tapped Clare on the shoulder. “How about I relieve you for a spell, let you get off your feet, darlin’?”

  The grey-haired woman smiled up at him. “I’d appreciate that, Sam.” She handed him the platter she’d been holding. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

  “Take your time.”

  Ava glared at him through her glasses. “Well, that was chivalrous.”

  As opposed to how he’d acted earlier, she meant. “After I’m done here,” Sam said, “I thought maybe I’d look for Lorelei. You know where she is?”

  “In her room. She mentioned checking in with her office.”

  On a Saturday? Under these circumstances?

  The woman was unbelievable. Sam’s father had literally worked himself to death, largely ignoring his family in pursuit of the almighty dollar, but even he looked like a slacker compared to Lorelei. Sam ground his teeth. Maybe now wasn’t the best time to go looking for her after all. It would be difficult to apologize and actually sound sincere.

  “You were pretty hard on her earlier,” Ava said, in chiding counterpoint to his thoughts.

  He’d thought so, too, but maybe they were both wrong. Instead of regretting the times she’d told Wanda she was too busy with her job to visit, Lorelei had simply retreated to her room to work some more. He felt like shaking the woman.

  But he hated for Ava to think badly of him. He ducked his head. “Forgive me?”

  She pursed her lips in a stern expression, but, behind the spectacles, mischief danced in her eyes. “I can’t stay mad at you. Even if I was angry, you’ve already received punishment enough for one day. After all, you are now the proud owner of that cat.”

  THE DAY HAD BEEN THE longest of Lorelei’s life, so why couldn’t she sleep? Exhaustion seeped through her bones even as a contradictory restlessness left her tossing and turning. The bed was adequately comfortable, but rest eluded her. Maybe she needed some white noise. The quiet was tomblike after hours of chatter and sniffling and piano music and coffee percolating.

  Or maybe she was restless knowing that Sam Travis, self-righteous usurper, was at the far end of the hall, probably sleeping like a baby. Despite there being the only two people under the roof, they’d successfully managed to avoid each other all evening. She hadn’t seen him since his dramatic exit from the library. Considering the circumstances, she thought it was rich that he was in a snit.

  Kicking off the covers, Lorelei gave up all pretense that she might fall asleep soon. Forget this. Instead, she decided it was time to try one of the many desserts in the kitchen. She could bring a piece of pie back to her room, maybe grab a book from the library while she was it. She’d already finished the only reading material she’d brought with her, a bound analysis on the mortality impact of medication interruption in post-disaster scenarios. Opening her door as quietly as possible, she crept out into the hall. The automatic nightlights Wanda had always kept plugged in for the guests illuminated the path to the stairs.

  She almost missed a step when Oberon shot out of nowhere, zooming up the stairs in some inexplicable feline frenzy. Gripping the banister, Lorelei bit back a string of curse words—maybe her company should consider adding special life insurance policies for cat owners. Her heart was still racing when she reached the bottom of the staircase.

  Seeing Sam Travis, shirtless in the arc of light that spilled from the open refrigerator, did nothing to slow her pulse.

  What was he doing down here? The knee-jerk question was so dumb she didn’t bother voicing it. Obviously he hadn’t been able to sleep, either.

  He must have heard her coming down the creaky staircase. Without looking back at her, he said, “I’m about to pour a glass of milk and cut into the German chocolate cake. You want a piece?”

  Finding herself temporarily mute, she shook her head. At her silence, Sam turned around. Their eyes locked, and she was glad she stood in the shadows. Maybe he couldn’t see the blush heating her cheeks. Although she’d been infuriated by the hateful way he’d spoken to her earlier, the anger didn’t stop her instinctive female appreciation of his broad shoulders and bare chest. Knowing he’d defined those arms and abs working hard under the Texas sun somehow made them even more appealing than muscles honed through an expensive gym membership. It was a damn shame the man ever wore a shirt. Her gaze slid involuntarily down his body toward the denim waistband of his jeans.

  The corner of his mouth kicked up. “You stare any harder, you’re going to bore holes into me.”

  The warmth in her face ignited to full-on flames. She opened her mouth to snap that she hadn’t been staring, but the lie stuck in her throat. Instead she advised, “Don’t be conceited. Haven’t you displayed enough character flaws for one day?”

  His expression tightened. “Do you want any or not?”

  Cake, she remembered. He’d offered her a slice of the German chocolate. “No, thank you. I’m not much for chocolate.”

  “One of those women who won’t let herself enjoy desserts?” he inquired as he set the gallon of milk on the counter. He let the refrigerator door fall shut, taking most of the light with it. What remained came from a dim lamp above the stove.

  “Not at all,” she said as she came into the kitchen. “I just don’t have a typical sweet tooth. I prefer desserts with extra bite to them. A really tart piece of lemon cake, or something spicy like—”

  “Mrs. Hoffman’s chili-powder dark chocolate brownies?” His tone was reverent. “Those kick ass.”

  She laughed. “Agreed.” To the dismay of citizens and tourists alike, Bertha Hoffman held the exact recipe a closely guarded secret.

  It was surreal to be standing in the dark discussing desserts with this man, when only hours earlier he’d been lambasting her in front of an audience for being a lousy daughter and taking ownership of the inn she’d assumed she would inherit. Would it be easier to talk about the situation now, rather than in a formal setting wi
th an attorney present?

  Sam picked up one of the many plastic food containers that lined the countertops and walked toward her in easy, long-legged strides. He moved with a rugged grace that was nearly mesmerizing. “Here.” He stopped inches from her. “You might like these. Lemon curd cupcakes, made by one of the women who works at the visitors’ center.”

  “Thanks.” She gave him a tentative smile as she took the container, careful to keep her gaze raised and not ogle his body again. But looking him in the eye was, in some ways, worse. An uncomfortable awareness crackled between them.

  He cleared his throat. “Lorelei…I’m sorry about earlier, with the attorney.”

  Her shoulders sagged as some of the tension she’d been carrying for the last few hours left her body. “Me, too. I know I wasn’t very tactful. I was just so caught off guard. She was my mother, and she loved this inn.” It had hurt far more than Lorelei ever could have predicted to learn that Wanda hadn’t left something so important to her only blood relative. It had been like the death of an unvoiced dream, cementing that mother and daughter had never been close enough. And now they never could.

  Sam reached out, cupping her cheek with a rough, warm palm. A shiver ran through her body, and he quickly dropped his hand to his side. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t know what she was thinking.” He turned back to the cake and milk he’d abandoned.

  “You said your father died when you were young,” Lorelei said softly. “Were you and your mother close?” Maybe it was difficult for him to understand Lorelei’s reluctance to visit Fredericksburg because he couldn’t relate to how hard each visit had been. Every painfully awkward encounter had been another reminder that Wanda and Lorelei would never have the relationship that was supposed to come naturally to mothers and daughters. Worse, Wanda had never wanted to acknowledge the estrangement. Her cheerfully determined oblivion had only served to make Lorelei feel even more isolated.