Page 46 of Texas Kissing

I looked left and right. No one else was around. I vaulted the counter and muscled in on her, backing her up against the far wall. She dropped the tough girl act instantly, her eyes going wide with fear. “I—I’ll call the cops!” she bleated.

I grabbed the phone and pulled it out of the wall. Then I showed her the photo again. This time, I caught the recognition in her eyes. “Talk!” I snapped. “When did she come?”

“You’ve got it wrong! That’s Mr. Hanlow’s granddaughter. She comes every few months.”

I frowned. “Hanlow?” Who the fuck was Hanlow?

“He’s a resident,” the receptionist said. “Room 233.”

Then I got it. “And which room is Abigail Oates in?”

She checked. “232.”

Oh, clever, Tessa. Very clever.

I grabbed the visitor’s book. Mr. Hanlow had had a visitor just two days ago.

I jumped back over the counter and marched straight to 232. The receptionist would call security, or maybe the cops, but I had a few minutes before they arrived. And I only needed a few minutes.

The doors to the residents’ rooms were cheap, crappy things. I broke the thing open with one good kick. Tessa’s grandmother was sitting there doing a crossword puzzle.

“Oh my,” she said with a start. “Who are you?”

I frowned. Had there been a second of recognition, when she’d first seen me? Had she guessed who I was and why I was there...or was I just imagining it?

“Tessa,” I snapped. “Where is she?”

“Tessa!” she said happily. “Is she coming? I haven’tseen her in so long.”

“I know she was here! Where is she living?”

She frowned at me. “In New York, of course. Why, she must be starting school, by now.”

I groaned.Senile.Of course she was. She was in her eighties. She probably didn’t even know what day it was.

Unless...

I narrowed my eyes. Unless she was acting.

She smiled happily back at me, quite unafraid. “Would you like some tea?” she asked.

No. Not possible. Not at her age. I sighed and looked around. Tessa had been here, but I wasn’t going to be able to get anything useful out of her grandmother. And I only had a few minutes before the cops showed up.

I checked the wastepaper basket. Empty.

Then I saw something behind it. Someone had tossed a napkin and missed. I unfolded it without much hope.

Printed in the center was a cartoon gold prospector. Coffee or tea or something had blurred the name of some bar or restaurant below it, but I could read the last word of the address:Texas.

38

Lily

The next evening, I drove out to the ranch. No one had to ask who I was there to see—my little Toyota was known, now. I flushed. Did everyone suspect what we’d been doing in the stables and the barn?

Then I remembered that this was Bull, and flushed deeper. They didn’t suspect. They damn wellknew.

I pulled up, the engine coughing on dust. I made a mental note to take the car in for a service sometime soon