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w school.”
“Law school?” Annie said. Clearly there was a lot she didn’t know. “Dallas McCray’s a lawyer?”
“Licensed, yeah. Went to Yale. But he doesn’t practice, so far as I can tell. He’s a rancher at heart.”
“I see.”
“Anyway, they’re divorced now. The younger one, Chad, he’s never been married.” Joe let out a guffaw. “He’s a lot more fun than the other two.”
“How so?”
“Likes to party. Always laughing. Never serious. A love ’em and leave ’em kind of guy. He got all the personality and sense of humor, I think.” Joe rose to his feet. “Tea, you said?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“I’ll be right back.” He winked at her.
Joe was attractive. Funny. Smart.
But he wasn’t Dallas McCray.
* * *
There was a knife in Dallas’s gut.
A dull, jagged knife that tore into his flesh.
A knife named Annie DeSimone.
He wanted to kick the snot out of Joe Bradley, and for what? Buying his girl a cup of tea? Hell, she wasn’t his girl. He didn’t want her. Couldn’t go down that road again. He would never get involved with a woman who was capable of deceiving her husband.
Still she haunted him day and night. He dreamed of her smooth skin, her sweet kisses, her lovely body.
If only things had been different.
The knife in his gut was buried deep, and he wondered if he’d ever be free again.
* * *
Fifty thousand dollars.
Morgan Bailey cleared his throat. “Okay,” he said to the tall man on the bar stool next to him. He met all kinds at the Sour Mash Saloon. The hub of Lorna, a small town that made Bakersville look like a thriving metropolis, the Sour Mash attracted local ranch hands, due mostly to its dollar beers from four to six p.m. daily.
“Okay what?” The man arched his dark brows.
Morgan took a deep swallow of his beer and set the mug on the bar.
“Okay.” He fidgeted with some change and laid it on the counter next to his empty glass. “I’ll do it.”
“Friend, you seem…uneasy.” The stranger’s gaze pierced Morgan’s own. “I can’t afford to take on someone who may have second thoughts. If that might be the case, I’ll leave now and you’ll forget we ever had this conversation.”
Morgan cleared his throat again. “No second thoughts. I’m your man.”
“Excellent.” He handed Morgan a cell phone. “Keep it charged. I’ll contact you with the details.”
“Understood.”
“Good. And friend?”
