Texas Two Step (2 page)

Ellen let out a very unladylike snort, not that she ever acted much like a lady. “Yeah, you should talk considering the names of some of the guys you hang around with. Just write on it Welcome, Brit Chick Maryann Morrissy.”

“Welcome, Brit Chick? Aw, come on, Ellen. Can’t I just put her name?”

“No. Put it all. She’ll like it. That’s her name online. It’ll make her feel more at home.”

He scowled and scribbled. Now he not only had to hold a sign, it had to have some goofy online name written on it too. “Anything else?”

She paused a moment. “Nope. I think that covers it.”

“No other
little
favors you need from me? A blood oath? My first-born child?”

“Come to think of it, yeah, you can get on that any time now, big brother. I want to be an aunt before I’m too old to teach my niece to barrel race.”

Wes rolled his eyes. “Stop pushing me. I don’t see you settling down anytime soon yourself. Why do I have to? And when the time does come and I do have kids, it’ll be
me
who’ll be teaching your
nephew
how to rope.”

Ellen laughed. “Oh really? How you going to guarantee yourself a boy?”

“Good old Griffin sperm has produced strong, healthy,
male
rodeo champions for generations.”

“It also produced me, big brother.”

He scowled at the wrench she’d thrown into his logic. “Yeah, but you’re the only Griffin girl. You’re obviously a freak of nature so you don’t count.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Listen, I have to get to my shift at the hospital. You remember to get Maryann and don’t forget the sign.”

“I won’t.” He was glad she couldn’t see what was probably a pretty childish-looking pout forming on his face.

While disconnecting the call with his sister, a brainstorm hit Wes. Why should he have to perform this task alone? Ellen never said he couldn’t bring company. Misery loved company.

Wes hit the numbers for his best friend and listened to the phone ring and then the familiar voice say, “Hello”.

“Shooter! Hey, you interested in sharing a twelve-pack of beer?”

There was a short laugh followed by, “Always. Do you even need to ask?”

“Nope. Not really.” Wes grinned. He could always count on Shooter. “You home now?”

“Yup.”

“Then get yourself ready. I’m on my way over to pick you up.” Wes looked down at the stub of a pencil. It wasn’t going to show up good enough on the cardboard for this damn sign he was supposed to make. His sister was going to owe him big for this one. “And grab a marker if there’s one lying around your place. You know, one of those thick black permanent ones if you’ve got it.”

“A marker? Yeah, I think I’ve got one here. What the hell is it for?”

Afraid he’d lose Shooter’s cooperation if he divulged the full details of their errand, Wes scrambled for an excuse and came up blank. “Just bring it. I’ll, uh, tell ya later.”

~

“He’s not available?” Maryann let out a huff of breath.

She’d been hoping to talk to Robert but if he wasn’t available to take her call during her layover in Atlanta, she’d have to try him again when she landed in Texas. By then it would be getting late in London. Maryann didn’t want to disturb him if he’d gone to bed early. He got so annoyed when he got woken by the phone.

“No, miss. He said to hold all his calls for the rest of the day.”

Hold all calls? Even from her? It wasn’t as if she was calling from their flat. She was on another continent, for God’s sake.

“Are you telling me he’s there in the office but just not accepting my call?” She was sure her shock and annoyance was clear in her tone. Maryann was sorry that Robert’s secretary was the one on the receiving end of her frustration. It wasn’t the poor girl’s fault.

“No, miss. He’s not here. Hasn’t been in all day actually. He called in sick.”

Sick? He wasn’t sick when he’d dropped her off. He’d said he was late for a meeting. “What about that big meeting he had this morning?”

“Meeting? No, he had nothing scheduled this morning.”

Maryann’s heart began to race. Something was up with Robert and she had a bad feeling it wasn’t good. A memory nagged at her, Robert getting overly defensive when all she’d done was ask about a sandwich shop.

“Oh, my mistake. Um, while I have you on the phone… I keep forgetting to ask, do you remember the name of that shop where you ordered the sandwiches for Robert’s lunch meeting a few weeks ago?”

“I’m not sure I know what you’re referring to.”

She may only be an assistant, not a solicitor like Robert, but Maryann’s sixth sense told her to pursue this line of questioning further. “You know, he had a big meeting in the office and you ordered sandwiches from some new shop. They were a bit dodgy and he ended up sick all night. He was going to ask you for the name so we don’t use them again.”

“I’ve never ordered sandwiches in. He always goes out for lunch.”

Maryann frowned. “Are you sure? You must have forgotten that one time. Or maybe you were out sick and someone else was there filling in that day.”

“No, miss. Haven’t been sick a day in the past year. And I’m quite sure. He goes out the same time every day for lunch. He tells me to hold all calls and tell anyone who asks that he’s unavailable. He’s very adamant about what I say to callers and never deviates from that schedule. He’s gone for exactly two hours each day.”

Maryann’s pulse pounded, making her head swim. How many times had she asked Robert to have lunch with her, only to be told he had a working meeting in the office and was ordering sandwiches in. Where exactly was he for two hours every day? She knew one thing, if she weren’t an ocean away, she’d be finding out, even if she had to hide outside his office and follow him to find out.

How could he betray her like this? Why would he? He could just break up with her if he wanted to be with someone else. They didn’t have a child or even own a house together. They had a crappy one-bedroom flat. He could leave at any time. It didn’t make sense. “Is there any chance he’s taking meetings with clients off-site during those two-hour lunches each day?”

“No, I don’t think so. He tells me to leave his schedule open and not book anyone during that time. I assumed he was exercising during lunch. He comes back with his hair wet as if he was freshly showered from the gym.”

Oh, Maryann bet Robert was exercising, but it wasn’t at a gym. He still had the same paunchy belly he always had. More likely he was spending lunchtime on top of some woman somewhere, not on an exercise bicycle. At least Maryann knew it wasn’t with his secretary since she was proving to be quite a good source of information. Poor young thing didn’t even realize she’d probably just exposed the biggest secret Robert had ever had.

“You know what, I think you’re right and he must be exercising. Let’s not tell him we had this conversation, shall we. I bet he’s trying to surprise me by getting in shape for our wedding. I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Oh, how romantic. I won’t say a word.”

“Thanks so much. Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

Maryann pushed the disconnect button and sat, shaking in her seat at the Atlanta airport gate mid-way between London and Texas. There wasn’t much she could do about her current situation or suspicions. She was in a foreign country all alone and fairly certain the man she’d hoped to marry was running around with someone else.

Curling into a ball on the floor and crying came to mind. So did turning around, getting on the next flight back to London and confronting Robert.

No, she was too strong to break down over one lying, sorry excuse for a man. And she wasn’t about to give up this trip she’d looked so forward to. No, she had no definite proof yet he was cheating, but Maryann wasn’t sure that mattered at this point. She’d been having doubts about her future with Robert even before learning he’d been lying to her on a regular basis.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Maryann tried to think. There was really nothing else to do right now besides think. She had another few hours before she arrived in Texas where she’d have to put on a brave face for her new friend.

How foolish she’d been, easily compromising herself and giving in to Robert on things that were important to her.

She’d wanted to get married right after they’d gotten engaged. He’d wanted an indefinite engagement. They finally compromised and agreed to move in together. His hesitation made total sense now. She’d always dreamed of a house full of kids. Robert wasn’t interested in having children. And now most recently, his belittling her interest in the rodeo and the new friends she’d made online.

It didn’t matter who he had lunch with or why he was lying about it, all the rest added up to one glaring reality. He wasn’t the right man for her and she’d nearly made the biggest mistake of her life by marrying him. The moment she got home she’d tell him. Breaking off an engagement wasn’t something you did lightly or over the phone long distance—not that he was taking her calls. The wanker. Where was he anyway? She dreaded the answer.

With trembling hands, she decided to try his cell phone one more time. The call went directly to voicemail, as it had the first time she’d tried. She wasn’t up to leaving him another message so she hit the disconnect button. Her shoulders sagged and she glanced down at her ring finger.

She had to hand it to him, at least he’d gotten her a pretty ring. Maryann slid it off and held it up between two fingers. “It was nice knowing you,” she whispered to the twinkling diamond, then slipped it into one of the little zippered pockets inside her carry-on. While she had her bag open, she fished inside for a napkin or tissue to wipe her suddenly wet eyes.

Chapter Three

“What do you think she looks like?” Shooter surveyed the new arrivals in the terminal, the torn piece of cardboard Wes had made into a sign resting in one hand and propped against his chest.

Wes still couldn’t believe all it had taken to convince his friend to hold that stupid sign was the promise of an extra beer out of the twelve-pack they’d be sharing. The one that Ellen hopefully had already put in the fridge to chill for him while they waited for Brit Chick to arrive.

Shooter’s question was one Wes had already asked himself the moment he’d been assigned this task so he had an image of Maryann Morrissy already firmly planted in his head. “I’m picturing one of those British nannies like you see on TV. You know the ones I mean?”

“No, not really. What kinda television you watching any way? Ain’t no British nannies on the hunting channel, that’s for sure.” Shooter frowned.

“Come on. You’ve seen them. The ones with their hair pulled back into a really tight bun. They wear glasses and they’ve got thick ankles and wear big, ugly shoes. They could be old, could be young, but you can’t tell. They could be skinny, or could be fat, but you can’t really judge that either because they wear dresses that look like they were made outta a burlap sack.”

“Hope you’re wrong, man. I think this British chick is going to be really hot, like the ones you see wearing those corset things in movies about Henry the Eighth. You know those low-cut tops where all the goods are pushed up and out.” Shooter used his free hand to mime pushing up his imaginary boobs.

Wes shook his head. “You’re crazy. Even if corsets were still in style, I seriously doubt she’d be wearing one on the flight.”

His friend shrugged. “A man can dream, can’t he?”

“Yeah, keep dreaming there, buddy, because I’m pretty sure this is her flight and I don’t see any of Henry the Eighth’s wenches in corsets coming through that door.” What Wes did see was a slew of businessmen in suits looking like they were late for something somewhere, a mother with too many kids to handle alone, and a middle-aged women who smiled in his general direction to reveal crooked, yellowed teeth. Was this Brit Chick Maryann? “No corset there, thank God.”

“No corset, but she’s hot enough, she don’t really need one.”

Wes frowned at Shooter. “Hot? Her? What the hell are you talking about?”

Then he followed his friend’s gaze and saw what Shooter had seen. Coming through the other door, also smiling in their direction was a woman about their own age and looking like nothing he’d imagined Brit Chick would look like.

“Hello. I’m Maryann.” The lilt in her sweet voice shot straight through Wes, right down to his groin. Down below, Little Wes woke up to take notice and was apparently enjoying Maryann’s British accent from inside Wes’s jeans.

Shooter’s face lit up with a wide, goofy grin. “Hey, Maryann. I’m Shooter. Welcome to America.”

She extended her hand and grasped the one Shooter extended to her. Meanwhile, Wes knew his friend well enough to recognize the signs. Shooter was already plotting how to get this woman naked. That, Wes was pretty sure, would piss Ellen off to no end.

While Maryann was shaking Shooter’s hand, Wes let his gaze take her in from the glossy, dark hair swinging just to her shoulders, to the sweater opened to show a generous pair of tits beneath her T-shirt, down over her nicely rounded hips and ass, all the way to the toes of her pointy cowboy boots. He wasn’t sure which part of his perusal surprised him the most, that she was hot or that a Brit was wearing extremely American-looking jeans and cowboy boots.

She dropped Shooter’s hand and turned toward Wes and it was his turn to introduce himself. “Hey. I’m Ellen’s brother, Wes. She asked me to collect you since she got called in last minute for a shift at work.”

“That’s nice of you. Thank you.” Her blue eyes focused on his as she shook his hand.

Judging by the smooth softness of her skin, Wes would bet this girl had never done physical labor, such as farm work, in her life. Those hands would sure feel nice on all sorts of places. Wes reluctantly released her hand and glanced around, wishing for something clever to say so she’d smile at him the way she had at Shooter when she’d read that sign. Damn, he should have held it himself.

Shooter grabbed the strap of the carry-on slung over her shoulder and making her list slightly to the side. “Here let me take that from you. It looks heavy.”

“It’s fine, I can—” Maryann began to protest, but Shooter took the bag anyway, swinging it easily by one hand.