Shotgun Surrender by B.J. Daniels

Author:B.J. Daniels [Daniels, B.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781488032257
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2005-06-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

Ty was sitting in the Mint Bar drinking a cold beer, worrying about Dusty when he heard the news.

Clayton T. Brooks had been found—dead.

He took the news hard. He’d liked Clayton. “What happened?”

The bartender, a short stocky man named Eddie, told him that he’d heard that Clayton had been killed when his pickup went off the highway north of town. “He was in here Thursday night. Closed down the place, as usual.”

“Do you remember him mentioning anything in particular?” Ty asked.

The bartender laughed. “Kept talking about someone named Little Joe.” He shrugged. “Have no idea.”

Ty nodded, remembering how Clayton had been that day at work. Now that he thought about it, he did remember Clayton mentioning Little Joe and Devil’s Tornado. If only he could remember what exactly had Clayton so worked up.

“Anything specific he said about this Little Joe?” Ty asked.

The bartender shook his head. “You know Clayton. Never shut up.” He smiled sheepishly. “You just tuned him out after a while. Sorry.”

Ty knew exactly what the man meant. “Any idea what he was doing north of town?” There was little north of Antelope Flats, and Clayton lived in the opposite direction.

Eddie shrugged and shook his head. “No clue. Not much up that way.”

Except for the Edgewood Roughstock Company ranch, Ty thought. And Devil’s Tornado. Was it possible the damned fool had been going to see the bull? But who was Little Joe?

The door opened and Ty caught a whiff of perfume, something light, like a spring day, that made him turn toward the entrance for a moment.

Couldn’t be Slim. She wouldn’t be caught dead wearing perfume. He turned his attention back to his beer. Maybe he shouldn’t have deserted her. As if his staying in the boutique would have helped matters. But he hated the thought that she might be mad at him. Might never trust him again.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up to see a young woman moving through the series of arches along the bar’s entryway. All he caught was a glimpse of her. A flash of blue and short, soft blond curls, but they were enough to hold his attention as she moved in and out of the archways. Flash. Flash. Flash. She was slim and leggy, the blue dress fluttering just above her knees as she moved. The dress the same color as the blouse he’d picked out for Dusty. The same color as Dusty’s eyes.

Even when she came around the corner toward the bar, he didn’t recognize her at first. True to his gender, he was looking at her curves, not her face. That is, until she stopped just feet from him.

His gaze flicked up to her face and all the breath rushed from him. “Slim?” He tried to get to his feet, practically knocking over his stool. She looked so…different. So not like the tomboy he’d known his whole life.

All he could say was, “You cut your hair!”

Her long braid was gone, her hair now chin-length, the pale blond a cap of loose curls that framed her incredible face.

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