Page 40 of Wrangling a Wild Texan

“I lied. All those paintings are in a storage unit in Houston. And I’m sorry, Cory. I’m so sorry for lying to you. I’ll figure out a way to pay you back for all the money you spent renovating the gallery.”

“I don’t care about the money, Sunny. I care about you. You don’t have to sell a single painting as far as I’m concerned. I just want you to do what makes you happy.”

That was the problem. She had spent so much time worrying about making Corbin and other people happy that she hadn’t thought about what would make her happy.

“What if I don’t know what will make me happy?”

He pulled her into his arms. “Then we’ll figure it out together. No more hiding how you feel.”

“Even if I’m not your happy-go-lucky sister?”

He leaned back and tweaked her nose. “Even then. You loved me when I was grumpy. I figure I can love you when you are.” He hesitated and an evil twinkle entered his eyes. “Although I have the secret weapon against grumpiness.” He held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. “The Tickle Monster.”

She tried to run, but he easily caught her and tickled her until she shrieked with laughter. When he finally stopped, he leaneddown and picked up something from the ground. It was Mrs. Fields’s letter. It must have fallen out of her pocket.

Corbin waved it at her with a grin. “What’s this? Are you getting love letters from some guy in town?”

“Not hardly. It’s one of the letters Jesse found in a trunk when he was renovating my room. I guess Mrs. Fields saved all the letters her admirers sent her, although that one isn’t admiring as much as threatening. Have you ever heard of someone living in town with the initials U.T.?”

Surprise registered on Corbin’s face and he quickly opened the letter and started reading it. His brow furrowed. When Corbin furrowed his brow, something wasn’t right.

“What is it, Cory?”

He finished reading the letter before he glanced up. “Remember the bet I made with Mrs. Stokes about her quitting smoking? Well, it wasn’t really a bet. It was more a deal. If she quit smoking, I’d look into a strange letter she found in her father’s things. The letter was from Mrs. Fields stating that the problem had been taken care of.”

“What problem?”

“I don’t know and neither does Fiona Stokes.”

“And you think this letter and that letter are connected? Maybe it was a completely different problem.”

Corbin shook his head. “Doubtful when Mrs. Stokes’s father’s name was Ulysses Thompson.”

Chapter Fourteen

“Do you think I could get my own horse one day?”

Reid glanced over at Sophie. Two weeks ago, she’d been terrified to even come near a horse. Which explained why she had refused to help out at the ranch. Now she sat a saddle almost as well as he did and loved being at the ranch. Not only because she loved to ride, but also because the Holidays spoiled her rotten.

If Hank and Hallie weren’t teaching her how to rope, Darla was teaching her how to cook or Mimi was teaching her how to garden and sew. When she wasn’t at the ranch with him, she was at Nothin’ But Muffins with Noelle learning to bake or doing community service for the entire town, learning to be responsible.

Sophie was thriving under all the attention. While she still could be moody, she talked and laughed now. She had stopped wearing as much makeup—thanks to Sunny taking her makeup shopping and having the saleswoman give her a few tips—and, yesterday, she’d been greeted by a group of girls when he dropped her off at school.

Her drastic change made him realize what a pigheaded fool he’d been. If he hadn’t been so stubborn and accepted help sooner, Sophie would have been happier much sooner. He wanted to continue to make her happy, but he refused to lie to accomplish it.

“I’m sorry, Soph, but we don’t have the money for a horse.”

“But maybe one day? When you get your own ranch?”

He glanced over at her with surprise. “How did you know I wanted my own ranch?”

“Mama told me. She said you talked about having your own ranch nonstop when you were a kid.”

Memories of his childhood with Bree still made him sad, but now mixed with that sadness was a nostalgic, bittersweet feeling. He figured that was progress.

“That I did,” he said with a soft smile. “I talked on and on about my ranch while your mama talked nonstop about opening her own hair salon.”

Sophie stared at him. “She did? But she was horrible with hair. She couldn’t get my hair into a smooth ponytail to save her soul. And she was always dyeing her hair weird colors.”

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