Page 28 of Wrangling a Wild Texan

Reid wasn’t just some guy she could have a fling with and go on her merry way. He was Corbin’s assistant ranch manager. Sophie’s guardian. Getting involved with him was wrong on so many levels. Especially when Sunny had never been good at relationships. She was too flighty. After only a few dates, she was always ready to move on. If Reid was as flighty as she was that would be one thing. But it didn’t take a degree in psychology to know he was the type of man who took commitments seriously.

He was stable and reliable and honest.

Everything Sunny wasn’t.

A rap on the door startled her out of her thoughts and she quickly jumped out of bed to cover her angry art. She had just finished throwing a drop cloth over it when Liberty appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Good mornin’!” Liberty glanced at the covered painting Sunny hovered around. “Is that something new?”

“Uhh . . . yes, but I’m not finished with it yet.”

“Well, I’d love to see it when you are. We need a piece of art to hang in the entryway. That looks like the perfect size.” Liberty glanced at the empty boxes in the corner. “So did you get all moved in?”

“I didn’t have a lot to move. I travel pretty light. Something you learn when you move as much as I do.”

Jesse had obviously told his wife about Sunny and Corbin’s vagabond childhood because Liberty’s green eyes turned sad. “Well, you can start collecting things now. Jesse made sure you have plenty of storage. And speaking of things in storage, I came to get the trunk Jesse left in your closet.”

Sunny had seen the trunk as she was unpacking and putting away her clothes. Of course, her curiosity had gotten the best of her and she’d opened it.

“Why does Jesse want to keep a bunch of old letters?” she asked.

“They belong to Mrs. Fields. Jesse discovered them when he was cleaning out the attic before renovations and thinks our guests would love reading through them. But what your brother thinks is appropriate for guests and what really is appropriate might be two different things. So I want to read them first.”

Sunny laughed. “You have a good point. You want help?” Anything to get her mind off her inability to paint . . . and an incinerating kiss that could never be repeated.

An hour later, Sunny and Liberty were sitting on the bed sharing salacious excerpts from the letters spread around them.

“Dearest Fanny,” Sunny read. “I can’t forget the night we spent together. Your lips were like two sundrenched rose petals that brought me to rapturous fulfillment. I look forward to feeling those lips . . . and that fulfillment again next Saturday night. Yours truly, Nathanial Davenport.”

“Nathanial Davenport?” Liberty took the letter from Sunny and examined it. “I wonder if he was the same Nathanial Davenport who started the First Baptist Church.”

Sunny laughed. “If it is, it sounds like he had plenty to repent about on Sunday morning.”

“Since Nathanial’s descendants probably don’t want to read about their great-great-great grandfather receiving a blow job from the town’s notorious madam, this one should probably go in the reject pile.” Liberty leaned over the bed and placed the letter in the trunk with the other rejected letters. “Along with the one about how much fun the mayor of the town had with two of Mrs. Fields’s ‘finest ladies.’”

“It certainly sounds like people had lots of fun in these rooms.” Sunny pulled a paper clip off two letters. She set one on the bed next to her and opened the other one. Her eyes widened as she read the typed words. “Although this one doesn’t sound fun as much as intriguing. ‘Dear Mrs. Fields. Here is your payment as per our arrangement. I expect you to handle the situation with the utmost confidentiality and discretion. If word gets out to anyone, I’ll consider our agreement broken and won’t hesitate to make sure your establishment closes for good.’”

Liberty’s eyes widened. “Wow, that sounds more threatening than intriguing. Who signed it?”

She looked at the bottom. “Just initials. U.T.”

“University of Texas?” Liberty laughed.

“Maybe the letter that was paper-clipped to it will give us more information.” Sunny placed the letter back in the envelope and set it on the nightstand before she picked up the paper-clipped letter. But before she could open it, Noelle came up the stairs carrying a bakery box.

“Hey! What are y’all doin’?”

“We’re just going through some old letters we found in the attic,” Liberty said. “I hope those are muffins. I sent Jesse forsome hours ago, but he obviously got sidetracked. I swear the man stops and talks with everyone.”

Noelle held up the box she carried. “Your muffins have arrived. And Jesse did get sidetracked talking to the townsfolk, but it was hard not to when everyone was standing in the street looking at the café sign.”

“Did you get a new sign?”

Noelle sighed. “No, but, once again, some prankster teens thought it would be funny to add atto theBut.”

The letter slipped from Sunny’s hand as she stared at Noelle. “What?”

“You don’t remember?” Noelle said. “I think we were freshmen in high school and someone painted aton the sign turning it into Nothin’ Butt Muffins.”

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