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Ambushed!. Vicki Lewis ThompsonЧитать онлайн книгу.

Ambushed! - Vicki Lewis Thompson


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she left her cell number.”

      “Nope.”

      “Damn it, Jack, this smells fishy. She’s not the kind of person to leave a message and walk off. I loaned her my horse.”

      “Not the wisest move you’ve ever made.”

      Gabe went on alert. “You said something to her, didn’t you?”

      “I told her we’re not selling any part of the Last Chance, if that’s what you mean.”

      “Yeah, well, she knows that, and she’s not interested, anyway.” Gabe didn’t believe for a minute that was the sum total of their conversation. “What else did you say to her?”

      Jack blew out a breath. “Look, I realize she’s exactly the kind of woman you go for, but—”

      “Because she’s stacked.”

      “Well, yeah. And don’t tell me she isn’t out to capitalize on that. All you have to do is look at her shirt.”

      “The company that stitched it sent her the wrong size.”

      “So she says.”

      “You’re calling her a liar?” Gabe stared at his brother in disbelief. “What in hell gives you the right to pass that kind of judgment on a person you don’t even know?”

      “Common sense! The Last Chance is a real estate goldmine. She’s in real estate. Do you really believe she wouldn’t like to have a piece of the action?”

      “There’s no action to have a piece of!”

      “She might figure getting horizontal with you could change that.”

      Gabe pointed a finger at him. “You accused her of having ulterior motives, didn’t you?”

      Jack shrugged. “I only suggested that—”

      “You son of a bitch. I’d punch you in the nose, except for two things. I need to find Morgan and I don’t want Mom to know we had a fight.” Gabe turned and left before his temper got the best of him.

      Punching Jack would feel great, but it would cause more problems than it would solve. Jack would probably punch back, and Gabe needed his face to be in working order today. He had watermelon and hot dogs to eat. Later on, if he could repair the damage his brother had done, he might even have some kissing to do.

      Gabe wasn’t a big fan of walking, but he wasn’t about to ask Jack to take him into town on his way back to the ranch. Fortunately he was less than a mile from the center of town. Shoshone didn’t have a square like some small towns, so everything happened along Main Street. Traditionally one block was closed off on the Fourth. Gabe hoped he’d find Morgan there.

      As he neared the roped-off area, he spotted a crowd gathered near a long table covered with butcher paper. Ten folding chairs lined one side. Gabe knew he’d found the site of the watermelon-eating contest. He just had to hope that his instincts were right and Morgan would have come here.

      The country band from Spirits and Spurs had set up in a makeshift bandstand near the watermelon contest, and a few people were two-stepping on the asphalt. Red, white and blue banners and crepe paper hung from windows and doorways all along the street and every business was flying a flag. Kids with squirt guns chased each other through the crowd.

      Gabe looked for Morgan, but a quick glance around told him she wasn’t in the immediate vicinity. With her bright-red hair, he’d spot her immediately. If Jack had ruined this day for her, Gabe might have to go back to the ranch and pound on his brother, after all.

      Then he saw her over by the Shoshone Diner, where Madge and Edgar Perkins were distributing plastic bibs advertising their business. Apparently they were still sponsoring the contest, as they’d done for as long as Gabe could remember. He’d never paid much attention to that kind of comforting stability, but after talking with Morgan, he had a new appreciation for it.

      As Morgan tied on her bib, Gabe noticed that she was wearing a baggy T-shirt instead of her satin Western shirt. She might have decided to change clothes because of the snap issue, but he could also believe Jack’s comments might have had something to do with it. His older brother had a lot to answer for.

      Adjusting the brim of his gray Stetson, Gabe walked over to the diner. Morgan was laughing at something Edgar had said and obviously hadn’t spotted him yet.

      “Hey, Gabe!” Madge called out. “Come on over here and get a bib. You were always real good at this.”

      Morgan’s head came up with a start, and the happy laughter faded as she looked in Gabe’s direction. Her body stiffened and she clenched her jaw.

      Yep, Jack would pay for this. “You bet I’ll take a bib, Mrs. Perkins.” Gabe accepted the piece of plastic and tied the ends around his neck. “Hi there, Morgan.”

      “Hi, Gabe.”

      “Say, weren’t you two riding together in the parade a while ago?” Madge asked.

      “Yes.” Morgan turned to her. “Gabe was nice enough to switch horses with me. His was better trained than mine, and I’m not a very good rider.”

      “You had a very stubborn horse,” Gabe said.

      “Yes, well.” She swallowed. “Did you happen to talk to Jack?”

      “I did, as a matter of fact. I gather you talked to him, too.”

      “Yes. We had a … conversation.” Her expression was carefully controlled.

      “You two can catch up later,” Edgar said. “It’s time to eat us some watermelon!” He lifted an old-fashioned school bell and started ringing it. “Watermelon-eating contest! Last chance to enter!”

      Morgan reached for the ties around her neck. “You know what? I don’t think I’ll do this, after all.”

      Gabe caught both her hands in his. “Don’t you dare chicken out on me, Morgan O’Connelli.” He hadn’t counted on her hands being quite so soft and warm. Or her mouth being quite so close and inviting.

      She glanced up at him. “Gabe, it’s not a good idea.” Her eyes darkened as they had when he’d chased down Geronimo.

      He didn’t think fear was the reason this time. He’d bet good money she was as sexually aware of him as he was of her. As further evidence, pink tinged her cheeks and her breathing changed.

      “Go on, both of you.” Madge shooed them toward the table as if they were five-year-olds, and Gabe was forced to let go of Morgan.

      She allowed herself to be herded toward the table, but fumbled with the ties of her bib along the way. “Seriously, I’m taking myself out of the competition.”

      “That’s exactly the problem,” Madge shot back. “There’s too much seriousness these days. It does people good to act foolish once in a while. Sit right there, Morgan. Gabe, you take the next seat.”

      Gabe sat down and glanced over at Morgan with a shrug. “I think you’re outvoted.”

      “All right.” Morgan met his gaze and a flicker of her usual good humor returned. “But I need to warn you, I’ve been looking forward to these events for a long time, and when it comes to watermelon contests, I eat to win.”

      Gabe smiled. “Them’s fighting words, ma’am.”

      Madge put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Morgan, it’s only fair to tell you that when Gabe was in high school he won this competition three years out of four.”

      “Because one year I beat his ass.” Nick clapped Gabe on the back and sat down next to him. “You’re toast, bro. I’ve been practicing.”

      “So that explains the love handles!” Gabe had never been so glad to see Nick in his life. Maybe Nick’s cheerful acceptance of Morgan would erase the bad impression Jack had


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