Page 3 of Her Cadillac Cowboy
“Your daddy didn’t do business with a McKinley. Your brother did. He signed the lease the day after your father’s heart attack.”
She narrowed her glance. The timing alone was suspicious. “You tricked him. Donny wouldn’t do business with you any more than Daddy would.”
He shrugged again. “Keep your delusions. If you check with your attorney — and I’m certain you will — he’ll tell you the same thing.”
Calm now, she put the phone back into her purse, then looked him in the eye. “I’ll check with our attorney tomorrow morning. We’ll resolve this business here at 12:30 p.m., sharp. In the meantime, I suggest we both leave.”
“You go ahead. I still have a few things to finish.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to leave now. I need to lock the door.”
“Thanks for the offer.” He pulled a key out of one of his front pockets. “But I think I can lock up after myself.”
She refused to butt heads with him any longer. “Don’t linger. I’ll phone the sheriff’s office on my way out of town and have them check the doors.” She turned and headed down the hallway to the exit.
He called after her, “That’s mighty considerate of you, but don’t do it on my account.”
She opened the door. “My only concern is for Carson’s property. I wouldn’t dream of doing anything out of concern for a McKinley.”
Outside the warehouse, Sara glared at the deep black Cadillac Orleans. The roof and fenders reflected the brilliant sunset, as if the car were engulfed in hellfire. Damn that man. He had entirely too much gall.
I’ll see about that lease. He’ll be gone, booted out, before he can blink.
She tossed her head in disgust and kicked the nearest whitewall tire. Her foot throbbed, but she felt better. She hobbled down the lot toward her rental car.
What if McKinley’s claim was true? That would mean Carson’s had a major problem. Months ago, Donny had written her about a deal Dad had made to market Mega Motors’ RVs in Luville. According to her brother, the first delivery was already scheduled for December. Without the warehouse, where would they put the RVs?
She jerked open the door of the ancient Mazda and sat down. If Josh really did hold a lease on the warehouse, he also held the upper hand. As long as he didn’t break the terms of the contract. What could Donny have been thinking?
She jammed the key into the ignition. The engine sputtered and caught. It needed a tune-up badly. As badly as she’d needed to clear her mind when she first headed for the warehouse. Her mind was clearer now. McKinley wasn’t the dealership’s only problem. He was, however, the biggest one. She pulled out of the lot. She had to find a way to make him break the lease. But how?
???
Josh watched Sara’s shapely form disappear as the door shut. He’d done nothing but argue with his former high school crush, yet he was hard from wanting her. He’d known that her father’s heart attack would bring her home. But for how long? And why did he even care? It’s not like they were teenagers anymore. Life was a whole lot steadier now. At least it had been until she’d whirled into the warehouse and his life.
He hefted a bundle of two-by-fours, taking the cumbersome load to a spot near his chop saw. No pair of speaking green eyes was gonna derail his work. All the same, he paused to evaluate his progress. He hadn’t come back to Luville for her. He’d been living here and looking for the right building for several months. The heart attack that put Donny Carl in charge at Carson’s had been pure dumb luck. Just like surviving a close encounter with a rampaging bull had been dumb luck. Josh sure hadn’t had anything to do with it.
He set up the next piece of two-by-four, mumbling to himself as he measured five times before coming up with the same number twice. Surviving that close encounter and a visit from Uncle Sampson had convinced Josh he was being given a second chance. A chance to make a meaningful contribution—a body sure didn’t find meaning in being trampled by bull hooves or gored with a horn. No, he had a chance to show the world that even a scruffy, belligerent kid from the wrong side of Detroit could be useful and productive.
He gave a start as the fence he used to guide the two-by-four leapt away, leaving his fingers vulnerable to the blade. “Jeezus in a teacup, Joshua. Watch what you’re doing.”
He stared at the ruined two-by-four. In the grand scheme, it wasn’t a great loss. What concerned him was how distracted he’d been. He rarely thought of Detroit for that very reason. Every trip down memory lane to that time and neighborhood left him staring into space. No matter the number of years that passed, he could still see himself at six years old holding the hand of his mother, gunned down in a drive-by shooting, and crying for her to wake up. Didn’t she know it was dangerous to sleep in the street?
He’d been put in temporary foster care until Uncle Sampson McKinley came north for his sister’s funeral and to settle her affairs. That was the day Josh’s life changed forever.
He shook his head. Distracted maunderings did no one any good. If his mind was going to wander, he’d prefer the distractions found at Clancy’s. The best watering hole for more than a hundred miles around.
Josh set to cleaning up. The swish of the broom as he gathered sawdust took him back to the chores he’d done since before he could remember. He’d been sweeping the floor two days after Uncle Sampson arrived. Sam had walked in and asked six-year-old Josh why he was sweeping.
“’Cuz that’s what good boys do when their mommy works two jobs.”
Sampson had grabbed Josh into a bear hug and told him he was the best of boys. And how would he like to go to Texas and live with Uncle Sampson?
It was the first time anyone had every asked Josh what he wanted. Texas sounded like heaven, but even at six, Josh knew heaven did not exist.
“You’re lying,” he’d accused.
But Sampson didn’t get angry like the neighborhood kids did. Sam shook his head and said, “Why don’t you come with me for one week? Let me prove to you how perfect a place Texas is.
