Wyoming Cowboy Ranger. Nicole HelmЧитать онлайн книгу.
advice from the married-for-less-than-a-year. You come talk to me when you’ve got a few decades under your belt.”
“Won’t change anything,” Grady replied with a certainty that didn’t make any sense to Ty. How could anyone possibly be sure? Especially Grady? His mother had been married more times than Ty could count. At least Ty’s dad had had the good sense to stop after Mom had died. Focused his making people miserable on his kids instead of on a new woman.
“You okay?” Grady asked casually enough.
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“You seem...”
Ty looked up at his cousin and raised an eyebrow.
“Edgy,” Grady finished, heeding none of Ty’s nonverbal warnings.
“I’m always edgy,” Ty said, trying to flash the kind of grin he always flashed. It fell flat, and he knew it.
“No. You’re always a little sharp, a little hard, but you’re not usually edgy.”
Ty shrugged. “Just waiting for the curse to hit us trifold. Or is it quadruple-fold? Can’t keep up with you all.”
“If you believe in town curses, it’s out-of-your-mind-fold.” Grady still stood behind the cash register even though he’d finished his work. “If you’ve got trouble, you only need to share it, cousin. Mine, cow or woman?”
Ty wanted to smile at the old code they’d developed as kids. But the problem was he didn’t know what kind of trouble he’d brought home. Whatever trouble it was, though, it was his problem. They’d had enough around here lately, and with Van and Laurel pregnant, Ty wasn’t going to make a deal about things.
He was going to handle it. He always handled it.
“Be down for opening,” Ty grumbled, dreading the Saturday night crowd. He moved through the bar to the back room, not looking down at the letter clutched in his fist. He walked up the stairs, forcing himself not to break into a jog. When he stepped into his apartment, he ripped open the envelope, trying not to focus on the lack of postage.
He pulled out a small, white piece of paper, eyes hurrying over the neatly printed words.
It must be nice to be home with the people you love—family, sure, but first loves most of all.
It won’t be so nice to lose. One or the other.
Ty crumpled the note as his hand curled into a fist. He reared his arm back, ready to hurl it into the trash, but he stopped himself.
He smoothed the note out on the counter and studied it. Whoever was threatening him anonymously would have to be stopped.
Which meant he had to figure out who wanted to hurt him and was close enough to drop an unstamped letter in his mailbox.
The people you love.
Not on his watch.
* * *
JEN DELANEY WAS as pretty as he’d been told. It gave him a little thrill. As did watching her while she hadn’t a clue anyone was watching. She stocked shelves, waited on the occasional customer, all while he watched from the viewfinder of his camera.
He’d had to take a break when Ty Carson had sauntered up, but that had given him time to leave the note.
Ty Carson.
Feeling the black anger bubble in his gut, he lowered the camera. He took deep calming breaths, and counted backward from ten just like Dr. Michaels always told him to.
He found his calm. He found his purpose. He slid into the car he’d parked in the little church parking lot. He exchanged his camera for his binoculars.
He could just barely make Jen out through the storefront of Delaney General. She was the perfect target. In every way.
And when he targeted her, he’d make Ty fear. He’d make Ty hurt. He’d ruin his life, step by step.
Just like Ty had ruined his.
On one last breath, he smiled at himself in the rearview mirror. Calm and happy, because he had his plan in place.
Step one: charm Jen Delaney.
It shouldn’t be hard. He knew everything about her. Thanks to Ty.
Saturday evenings at Delaney General were always fairly busy. During the week Jen’s crowd was minimal and usually the browsing kind. Weekends were more frantic—trips to grab what had been forgotten over the week. A twelve-pack of beer, sauce for spaghetti already on the stove and, in the case of one nervous young gentleman, a box of condoms.
She’d made one joke about telling his mother. He’d scurried away, beet red. There was some joy in living in a small town. Jim Bufford hefted a twenty-four-pack of her cheapest beer onto the checkout counter and grinned at her, flashing his missing bottom tooth. “Care to drink dinner with me, darling?”
“Hmm,” she replied, pulling the case over the scanner. Jim had been making this particular offer since she’d turned twenty. Since he made it to just about every female who’d ever worked in Delaney General, she didn’t take it personally. “Some other night, Jim. Got my nose to the grindstone here.”
He handed over a wad of wrinkled bills and tutted while she made change. “Young pretty thing shouldn’t work so hard.”
“And a nice man like you shouldn’t drink his dinner.” She handed him his change and he hefted the case off the counter.
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, offering a half-hearted goodbye as he pushed open the door and stepped out. Just a few seconds later the bell on the door tinkled again and someone stepped inside.
She didn’t recognize this customer. He wore his cowboy hat low, obscuring most of his face. Still, she could usually recognize her regulars by size, clothes, posture and so on. This was a stranger.
She remembered Ty’s words from earlier and an icy dread skittered up her spine, but she smiled. “Good evening.”
“Evening,” the man returned, a pleasant smile of his own. She couldn’t see his eyes, but his smile wasn’t off-putting. He was wearing what appeared to be hiking gear and had a fancy-looking camera hanging from his neck. “I don’t suppose you carry film?” He lifted the camera and his smile turned sheepish.
“Afraid not.”
He sighed. “Didn’t expect to use so much. You’ve got a fascinating town here, ma’am.”
“We like to think so.” She kept her smile in place. The man was perfectly polite. No different from any other stranger who walked into her store looking for provisions of any kind.
Her palms were sweaty, though, and her heart beat too hard. It was only her and him in the store right now, and Ty had warned her about strangers.
And you’re going to trust Ty Carson on anything? No. No, she wasn’t, but... Well, there’d been too much trouble lately not to heed his warning. So, she’d be smart. Do what her deputy sister would do in this situation: pay attention to details. The man was tall, maybe around her brother Cam’s height. But not broad. He had narrow shoulders, though the way he walked exuded a kind of strength. Like a runner, she supposed. Slim, but athletic. She couldn’t determine the exact shade of his hair because of the way the hat was positioned and the way he was angled away from her, but it wasn’t dark hair.
“I don’t have film, but I’ve got food and drinks or anything else you might need.” She smiled at him, but he still didn’t look her way. He examined the store.
“Actually I stopped because I was wondering