Page 1 of Her Cadillac Cowboy
CHAPTER ONE
Sara Anne Carson didn’t want to come home to Luville, Texas, but her father’s heart attack forced her. She parked her rented Mazda in the front of the Carson’s Cars lot. Throughout her ten-year escape—college then Borneo, India, Sweden, and finally Alaska—from Carl Carson’s stifling influence, she’d longed for the sight and smell of the dealership. The only thing that made coming home to Luville worthwhile.
She got out of the car and started around the dealership and the used car area, aiming for the warehouse on the back lot. As a child, she’d done most of her thinking and dreaming in the big dusty building. Yet during the journey from Sitka to Luville—all the long layovers, hours of being squashed between sweaty businessmen, more hours of screaming children kicking her seatback—she hadn’t been able to think clearly beyond this moment.
She had to get a handle on all the dealership data she’d tried to pore through on the flights. The data her younger brother Donny had sent just didn’t add up. She’d have to talk to him, and to Dad. God knew what kind of welcome waited her from her father. He’d always been volatile, in addition to being dismissive of her achievements. After all, she was only a girl. She’d be surprised if a single spot on Carl Carson’s good ol’ boy hide had changed, heart attack or no. She needed some time alone before she could face that and the grilling she’d have to give Donny. She’d have to do both before she could begin to untangle the business snarls at Carson’s Cars.
Lord, what a mess.
As Sara walked, she lifted her gaze from the pavement baking in the May sun. She closed her eyes, praying the vision before her would disappear. When she opened them, it was still there, a sleek, black Cadillac Orleans barring the warehouse entrance. She choked back a cry, skirting around the vehicle, as if it were cursed. That vehicle haunted her nightmares.
Only two of the huge prototypes existed. One sat in a museum somewhere. Last she knew, the other belonged to Josh McKinley, champion bull rider and all-around jerk. Back in high school, she’d been stupid enough to imagine they shared feelings for each other. Now? Well, now he should be riding the rodeo circuit. So how had this Caddy appeared here?
“He must have sold the car to someone else. That’s the only explanation that makes sense,” she muttered to herself as she pushed open the warehouse door.
Only a fool would parkthatcar on Carson’s property. Or the new owner didn’t know the car’s history. The Caddy prompted painful memories of her mother’s desertion, her father’s neglect, and Josh. Mom tucking her into bed, telling the story about bowling dwarves who caused the thunder that scared Sara so much. Then her parents shouting at one another. The front door slamming and the roar of the Cadillac’s engine. She’d thought Daddy had gone to work late. That’s what he did when he and Mommy argued. But in the morning … in the morning Sara’d found out differently. Mommy was gone, so was the Caddy, and neither one was coming back. Although Sara would see the car again. Often enough to grow to both hate and love it, because it had stolen her mother then brought her Josh.
Josh, for whom any feeling stronger than distrust had died long ago.I’ll find out who owns the Caddy now and ask them to remove it.
On the far side of the Cadillac was what looked like a heap of parts for swing sets and jungle gyms. What the heck was happening at her warehouse?
Inside was dim and only a shade cooler than the steamy air outside. The huge building would make a great showroom for the RVs that Donny’d written about to her. She missed her brother, almost as much as she missed the dealership. But neither enough to come home until she could not avoid it.
Sara wandered down the hall, turned the corner at the end of the corridor, and ran smack into a bare, sweaty, male chest. The impact was brief. Hard hands closed over her shoulders and steadied her before setting her away. Sara looked up. Her mouth opened and closed, then opened again.
“You!” echoed through the emptiness.
Sara jumped back farther. More memories squeezed her heart. Of all the voices that she might hear, she never expected to hear Josh McKinley’s deep baritone.
“So, you’re back.” His mouth twisted on the statement. His graveled voice and daredevil blue eyes challenged her.
She wasn’t ready for this. “What are you doing here? Gloating because my father’s bedridden and can’t throw you out?”
“Not gloating, working.”
What a surprising idea. “That’s ridiculous. It’s Sunday and Carson’s Cars is closed.”
“Always was, as I recall. Guess even an old devil like your daddy needs a day of rest.”
Her eyes widened. How dare Josh try to provoke her. He’d betrayed her, run off like a coward. Never mind that she’d done her own running a few years later. “My father would never hire a McKinley, and no McKinley would want to do an honest day’s work when he could shyster widows and orphans instead.”
Josh hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans and leaned against the wall, his narrow hips cocked at an aggressive angle. “I don’t work for your father.”
He had no right to prop his broad shoulders against that wall. “Then you’re not working here, so get off Carson’s property.”
Damn him with his dark hair and bright eyes. He didn’t move. He gave a slow smile and looked her over, head to toe and back. “You’ve changed, Sara.”
Déjà vu skittered bumps over her skin. Time was when she would have danced naked in a cactus patch for that smile. No more. “Maybe it’s time you found out just how much I have changed.”
“Go ahead, show me.”
“I’m not a lonely, defenseless, little girl anymore.”
“You weren’t little in high school, Pipsqueak.”
She winced at the childhood nickname. He was right. She’d been a gawky five-foot-nine when she’d first fallen for Josh McKinley. She wouldn’t fall again. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why not?”
