Page 9 of The Cowboy's Justice

“Yep, I’m sure,” she replied as she climbed out. “Wait for me. I made the coffee before I jumped in. I’ll only be a minute.”Grabbing her thick, cotton robe and wrapping it around her body, she walked quickly into the kitchen, poured herself a cup of the rich java, then returned to the patio. “So, what’s going on?” she asked as she sank into a cushioned deck chair.

“Sheriff Cooper just called. He won’t give you back your license.”

“Seriously? Crap. I wonder if I can find someone in town. If I can’t I’ll have to bring in a driver from town, and that means paying for their lodging and all their expenses. Not that I care about that, but what a pain. There has to be another way. This is bullshit.”

“Actually, there is, but I don’t like it, not one bit.”

“What?”

“The sheriff suggested you stay there.”

“At the ranch? Where? In Devlin’s house?”

“Apparently there’s a guest cabin.”

“Oh, my gosh. What should I do?”

“Like I said, I think it’s a terrible idea. But you should drink your cocktail. It will calm you down.”

“Huh, stay at the ranch,” she mumbled to herself, ignoring his suggestion. “I can’t imagine living in some crappy cabin.”

“I agree. I don’t think you’d be very happy.”

“No shit. But what if I refuse and the sheriff threatens to put me in jail again? He’s holding all the cards.”

“It was a suggestion not an order. And he would never do that. My law firm has all kinds of contacts. I could—”

“NO!” she barked vehemently. “If this gets out the paparazzi will be all over me. Fuck. I may not have a choice.”

“You can do the limo thing.”

“That would be weird, and Devlin’s clients would start asking questions. If they figure out who I am they’ll start gossiping, and before we know it, the press will be here.”

“So…where do we go from here?”

“I suppose I should check out the cabin. I want to talk to Devlin again anyway. While I was in the pool I realized I had no idea what I’d actually be doing and I need to have some clue. Drop me off and I’ll ask him to bring me back. I’m going to get dressed. Call him and ask if I can come back.”

“But you haven’t had your drink, and I’ve heated up some of those gourmet appetizers from that French place you like in Dallas.”

“Thanks, but I couldn’t eat anything right now, and the last thing I need is alcohol. I have to keep a clear head.”

“Are you sure you want to go to the ranch right now?”

“William, what’s wrong with you? Of course! I just said that!” she snapped impatiently. “Has something else happened? You seem edgy.”

“No, but this whole drama has me rattled, and I am a bit worried about you living on some ranch with a total stranger.”

“Sheriff Cooper suggested it, so I have no doubt it’s perfectly safe. I’ll be right back, and this time I’ll wear something a bit more practical. I think I have a pair of old jeans and cowboy boots tucked away in my closet.”

* * *

As she strode from the room William placed the tray on the coffee table and stared down at the spiked Margarita. Telling himself he could add the drug to her wine at dinner, he lifted out his phone and called directory assistance. It hadn’t even occurred to her they didn’t have Devlin’s contact information, and William chided himself for not asking. As he got the number and placed the call, he wondered if he should be reaching out to Sheriff Cooper instead, but Devlin answered on the second ring.

“Hello, Devlin Hatfield speakin’.”

“Hi, Devlin, this is William Buckley. Sheriff Cooper told us about your suggestion. Are you sure you want Portia living there?”

“I think it will make things easier for both of us, especially since comin’ and goin’ will be a problem.”

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