sit a spell. Punch makes the best coffee this side of the Brazos.”
Punch lifted his flipper in salute and turned back to his grill. Freda watched with hawk eyes as Cal took Maggie’s elbow and escorted her over to the booth he’d vacated seconds ago. Willie and Jeb recovered enough to waddle toward the exit. The two truck drivers both turned back to their steak-and-egg platters. Show over.
Maggie sat down, placing her bag on the bench beside her and her sunglasses on the table. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”
He motioned for Freda. “You want coffee?”
“I don’t drink coffee. Maybe some herbal tea?” she asked.
The face he made was answer enough.
“I’ll have a diet soda,” she said when Freda butted her rounded hips up to the table.
“Sure, we got that,” Freda said, eyeing Cal. She tapped on her order pad for a few seconds. “And you watch out for this one here. He’s got sweet words that’ll have you outta your drawers before you can blink.”
Maggie looked at Cal like he was a cottonmouth curled up on a rock.
Cal gave Freda his patented smile. “Don’t be scaring the little lady just because Punch won’t let you come play with me, querida.”
“If I did play with you, cowboy, you’d have no good reason for looking for any other fun. I have a big playground right here,” she said, smacking her large backside and laughing.
“Wait a sec, I’m here on business, not—” Maggie started.
“Relax, she’s just flirting with me. Did you see Willie and Jeb? Ain’t much to mess with around Coyote Creek.”
Maggie gave a lift of a delicious shoulder. “Okay, so can you give me some information about the Triple J, Mr....”
“Lincoln. Cal Lincoln.”
“As you can tell, I’m not from here.”
“No way,” he joked with a smile.
He saw her relax a little. “I’m from the Northeast actually. Uh, Philadelphia. This is my first time in Texas.”
“Welcome to the Lone Star State.”
“Thank you,” she said with pretty manners. Her eyes were the color of smoky brown topaz. His mama had had a ring with the stone when he was a boy. She dragged it out every time she went to church...which wasn’t much since she’d worked days at the Coyote Creek Motel. She’d loved that damn ring.
For a few seconds they didn’t speak. Freda plopped a huge glass of Diet Coke down in front of Maggie. After a few seconds of neither Maggie nor Cal talking, Freda sighed and went back to her usual spot wiping the counter down. Her ear remained tuned in their direction.
“Are you kin to Old Man Edelman? He croak or something?”
“He passed away last month,” Maggie said, her eyes shadowed with sadness. “He was a good man.”
“You related to him?”
“No. I was his administrative assistant.”
“How’d you end up with his place, then?”
Her expression grew guarded. “People down here sure are nosy.”
“Part of being a Texan. We’re friendly and nosy.” Cal picked up his half-finished coffee and took a sip. It had grown cold so he motioned for Freda to give him a warm-up. She ignored him. “Might as well spill right here and now.”
“Well, if you must know, he grew sick in his later years. I was his assistant, helping him run his day-to-day affairs. When he passed and the will was read, I found out he left the Triple J to me. I expected nothing, of course, since I was an employee. But Mr. Edelman was a good man. His children made a bit of a fuss, but what Bud Edelman wanted he got even in death.”
Everyone in Coyote Creek knew old Bud Edelman had more money than hell had sin. He owned a company that sold ice cream all over the country. The Triple J had been a self-indulgent lark for the old tycoon. He’d shown up every summer for a month and played at being a cowboy before he went back to Pennsylvania and his millions. But the place hadn’t been occupied in over ten years and had been left in the care of Charlie Lowery, an irresponsible drunk.
“That’s quite a story,” Cal said, eyeing this woman who’d flown out to look over the ranch. What in the world had possessed her to come to Coyote Creek? Nothing glamorous about the small Texas town, nothing particularly pretty about it, either. “But why did you come all the way out here?”
She looked at him like he was a moron. Which some would say was accurate but Cal wasn’t admitting to it. “Because I’m a responsible person who can’t ignore something she’s been gifted. I called the town hall to inquire about the property and someone named Millie gave me Mr. Lowery’s name and number. Took me a week to get in touch with him. He told me the place needed a good scrubbing, but there were cows and a horse. He wanted me to wire him money. But I’d rather meet him and view the property in person.”
“If you were Bud’s assistant, how come you didn’t know all that to begin with?”
She looked annoyed at the question. “Mr. Edelman liked to take care of matters with the Triple J himself. My job was to transfer money into the ranch account. He handled everything else.”
“Millie should have given you the number to a good realty company and saved you the trip out here.”
“You’re assuming I’m selling the place?” she asked, placing those plump lips around the straw. He noticed. Gosh damn, did he notice those lips.
“I ain’t assuming nothing. Tell you what. I’ll drive you out to the ranch,” he said. She needed to see what she was getting herself into. He hadn’t been out that way since he’d come home last time, but he knew all the local kids sneaked out there to drink and shoot Coke cans. Someone had mentioned a load of feral cats in the barn, too. Supposedly, Charlie had allowed it to slide into disrepair which was a damn shame because it had once been a nice place.
“I need the keys. Otherwise I could have gone myself, Mr. Lincoln. I do have a navigation system.”
Cal smiled. “Of course you do, but the thing is, some of these Texas roads aren’t on the map.”
“This one is. But I figured it would have a gate or something. Mr. Lowery said he’d bring all the keys and show me around. I’m not sure I could even get on the property without a key.”
Cal smiled. “I guarantee I’ll get you to the front door.”
“I suppose I can follow you in my rental,” she said, like any good city girl who knew better than to climb into a pickup truck with a stranger wearing Wranglers with holes in the knees. Of course his straw hat was new and expensive...not that a girl from Philly would know.
“Sure,” he said, motioning for the check. This time Freda hurried over.
“You paying for her Coke?” she asked, hooking an eyebrow.
“No, here, let me,” Maggie said, reaching for her bag.
Cal plopped a twenty down on the handwritten ticket Freda had ripped off and sat on the chipped Formica. “I always buy pretty ladies a drink.”
Maggie made a frowny face which made her look cute. Still sexy. But cute, too. “Thank you.”
“Keep the change, Freda. I’m going to take Mrs....Miss?”
“Miss,” Maggie conceded.
“Miss Stanton out to the Triple J. Send the sheriff if I ain’t back in two days,” he joked as he grabbed his hat and slid out of the booth.
He was damned glad to know she wasn’t married. Not that it really mattered. She’d take one look at that dump