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    Give Me Texas: Cowboys of the Double R, #4
    Give Me Texas: Cowboys of the Double R, #4
    Give Me Texas: Cowboys of the Double R, #4
    Ebook141 pages1 hour

    Give Me Texas: Cowboys of the Double R, #4

    By Suzanne D. Williams

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    Nothing softened a man better than the touch of a woman. He knew this first hand and had sought the last five years to forget it.

    There it was again, though. The warmth, the joy her laughter gave. The sparkle that kissed a man's mind when he knew she'd been around. And an ache in his heart where emptiness lived. He wanted to feel something again but feared the truth he'd hidden so well might ruin his chances.

     

    Dexter Tilford did the worst thing a man could do, he cheated on his bride and ran from town, leaving a trail of heartache behind him. Five years later, he's gotten right with God but still carries around the guilt of his actions … and hasn't repaired the rift it left between him and his family.

     

    Wendy Halloran hasn't dated since an old boyfriend dumped her for someone else, years ago. She's poured her energies into working, instead, spending days and nights at the local dance-hall restaurant. A late-night encounter with Dex gives her a glimpse of what she's been missing. She should let go and enjoy life more.

     

    Yet trusting a man again proves hard to do, especially when there's so much baggage between them, and soon, the secrets they haven't shared send them, full circle, back to worst days of their lives. Only this time, it includes murder.

     

    Book 4 of the COWBOYS OF THE DOUBLE R Series by author, SUZANNE D. WILLIAMS.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSuzanne D. Williams
    Release dateAug 3, 2018
    ISBN9781386250241
    Give Me Texas: Cowboys of the Double R, #4
    Author

    Suzanne D. Williams

    Best-selling author, Suzanne D. Williams, is a native Floridian, wife, mother, and photographer. She is the author of both nonfiction and fiction books. She writes a monthly column for Steves-Digicams.com on the subject of digital photography, as well as devotionals and instructional articles for various blogs. She also does graphic design for self-publishing authors. She is co-founder of THE EDGE. To learn more about what she’s doing and check out her extensive catalogue of stories, visit http://suzanne-williams-photography.blogspot.com/ or link with her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/suzannedwilliamsauthor.

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      Book preview

      Give Me Texas - Suzanne D. Williams

      SUZANNE D. WILLIAMS

      www.feelgoodromance.com

      © 2018 GIVE ME TEXAS (COWBOYS OF THE DOUBLE R) BOOK 4 by Suzanne D. Williams

      www.feelgoodromance.com

      www.suzannedwilliams.com

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the publisher.

      This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

      For if a man is in Christ he becomes a new person altogether—the past is finished and gone, everything has become fresh and new. (2 Corinthians 5:17 PHILLIPS)

      CHAPTER 1

      THUNDER ROLLED, BRINGING with it a fresh deluge that turned the already sodden parking lot into a lake. Spreading into the road, it blended pavement and soil, obscuring the restaurant entrance.

      Footsteps sounded from behind, and the Barn’s manager, Rita, strolled closer. Wendy Halloran glanced aside, a damp mist filtering in the cracked doorway to settle on her cheek.

      You off? Rita asked.

      She and Rita went way back, having worked at the restaurant-slash-dance hall for a decade together. Unlike so many living in the area, they were homegrown.

      Once I inflate my raft, Wendy replied.

      This shifted Rita’s gaze to the weather. It’s a frog strangler.

      She smiled, although it was only half-meant. This much rain meant misery for the ranchers in the area. Creeks would rise, ponds flood pastureland, creating extra danger for the herds. It’d make mush of the dirt roads that crisscrossed the landscape and add hours to already long days. Their lack of customers tonight reflected it. Except for a few faithfuls, the place had been empty.

      You want a lift? Rita asked. Will the ‘rust bucket’ even drive in this?

      Wendy considered the offer. Her old four-door had seen better days, true. But Rita would be here another hour. If she drove slowly and exercised some patience, she’d make it soon enough. I’ll be okay. Thanks, though.

      With another acknowledged glance at Rita, she gripped her purse to her chest and dashed across the lot. She was drenched by the time she fell into her car and sat there, breaths heaving, water dripping onto the worn cloth seats.

      She wrapped her arms around herself, warding off a shiver. On a night like tonight, it’d be nice to snuggle with something living. At least, a cat.

      She frowned. Her lack of a love life had bothered her more since Aletta hooked up with Tyson. She loved Aletta, and their new baby, aptly named Texas, was ten kinds of adorable, but they reminded her – daily – how truly alone she was.

      She reached for her car keys and poked them into the ignition, turning them forward until the dashboard lit up. The gas gauge glowed brighter than the rest.

      Ugh.

      This was the wrong night to be on empty. She’d debated about stopping on her way in but gotten caught in the road detour and decided against it. Thinking of that, she wouldn’t be able to head home the usual way either and shifting her pattern would take her from the more familiar stations.

      She flicked a glance toward the restaurant. She could still take up Rita on that lift. She exhaled. Who wanted to walk through this rain twice? She’d find something.

      Wendy cranked and shifted into reverse. Her old clunker gave a groan and a series of odd thumps. C’mon, girl, she said, urging it on. It could use a tune-up, but those were costly on a waitress’s salary. She was lucky if her tips paid for groceries.

      Maybe next month, she said. Or next year. She was really good at putting things off.

      The drive was slow-going, as predicted. Though she knew every street and all the ways to get from here to there, the moonless sky and sheets of rain made things otherworldly. Flooded ditches and bedraggled vegetation added to the confusion, hiding road signs and other known reference points. As such, twelve minutes into her drive, she rolled to a stop.

      This wasn’t right at all. Was this McKillon Pond Road or Farmer’s Corner? She tapped the gas and drove a little further, scanning the roadside for anything familiar. After another mile, she had a bigger issue. Her car sputtered and shut off.

      Crud. Wendy slapped the wheel and fell back in the seat. A fine pickle to be in. Granted, the rain eventually stopped, she could get out and walk. But when would that be? And walk to where? She’d gone off-track somewhere and could be miles and miles from anyone.

      She glanced toward her purse. Nor could she call for help. The same low paycheck that kept her from fixing her car had also made a cell phone bill unwise. She usually kept a disposable but had run out of minutes a few days ago and left it at home. She’d thought she could make it until payday on Friday.

      Just my luck.

      She dragged in a deep breath. Meanwhile, here she was ... wet and cold. And tired. Her feet ached. She smelled like burnt food and beer. One particularly rowdy customer had targeted her as the object of his affections tonight. She was used to those types showing up from time to time, but this guy had creeped her out more than most. The bouncer had finally escorted him from the restaurant.

      Headlights cut a swath through the downpour, forming into those of a large pickup. The customer fresh in her mind, her nervousness fought with her relief. Having someone drive by in this weather was fortuitous, but on the other hand, all kinds of evil things happened in similar situations.

      Don’t be stupid, she said. She could hardly refuse help if it was offered. She had to find her faith in her fellow man again.

      Leaning forward, she grasped the headlight lever and flashed them several times. The truck slowed to a stop. The driver hesitated an instant then swung open his door and stepped into the rain.

      A shadowy masculine figure strode forward, square shoulders, a cowboy hat seated, tall. His boots sinking into the muck, he slogged ahead. Fear spiked, and she double-checked the locks.

      What if it was him? She didn’t believe in coincidences necessarily, but—

      Her headlights landed square in his eyes, and squinting, he shaded his face with his hand. The rugged features flashed familiar, and she exhaled. Dexter Tilford, a regular at the Barn, worked for the Porters at the Double R Ranch. You couldn’t get safer than him.

      Heedless of the rain, she lowered the window. Dex?

      He stepped up and leaned in. Water sloughed from his hat brim down the inside of the door. Wendy? What you doin’ out here?

      I got turned around in all this rain and ran out of gas. I thought you were some psycho comin’ after me.

      His brow wrinkled, and he laughed, delayed. I’m psycho to be out in this. He gestured behind him. Sad to say, but the road is washed out in that direction or I’d see you to the highway. Best thing would be travelin’ back the way you came. Bein’ honest, that’s the long way, and we could both end up stuck. Be glad to give you a ride; I’m headed in. The Porters are out-of-town, and there’s a spare bed in the bunkhouse. Hopefully, the rain will stop tonight, and I can run you to town in the morning.

      It was an honest offer, though sleeping in the bunkhouse with the other cowboys would be ten kinds of strange. As he’d said, she’d be a fool to stick it out here. At least, inside the bunkhouse she could get dry and clean.

      Much obliged. Just let me get my purse.

      He nodded and motioned toward his truck. She raised the window and reached for her keys.

      DEX FOCUSED ON WHAT was left of the road and not the woman seated an arm’s length away. He was hampered, anymore, when it came to conversation with women and usually limited the topic to horses, cattle, and ranching.

      The heat of their breaths steamed the glass, and what had been a cold, wet night grew inordinately warm.

      Wendy, he’d known for a couple of years now, but ordering food was far different from being closed in his truck together. Add to that her sodden state, her clothing stuck to her, and he was beside himself to not look foolish.

      What had you out this late in the storm? she asked.

      He shifted his grip on the steering wheel to alleviate his nervousness. Promised Mr. Porter I’d open the gate if the south field got too deep. Best place to do that is by taking Greenfield Road. Means a nasty walk along the fence line, but I didn’t want to drag a horse out in this, so I borrowed one of the Porters’ trucks.

      And if you got stuck?

      He risked a glance. Wendy wasn’t fancy like Leonard’s Brigid; she was more homespun. He liked that about her and thought her curvier figure looked perfect on her.

      I didn’t, he said.

      She laughed, and he flashed her a grin.

      Good thing, too, or you’d be in for a long night ... and a long walk tomorrow.

      She sobered. My cowboy knight, driving up in his trusty steed.

      Dex dipped his chin, accepting her words, then returned his gaze to

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