Page 17 of Seaside Cowboy's Fairy Tale

THE NEXT TWO DAYS,Rachel got well acquainted with the exterior of the large building where Tex worked and the interior of her small beater car. Just like she’d told Ms. Mueller, Tex’s sports car disappeared into the building garage early every morning, and he didn't reappear until late every night.

By now, Rachel’s car smelled like stale coffee, and she must have coffee in her blood to keep awake. Oh, and she’d added the scent of fried onion rings when she treated herself to them yesterday and had those and a hamburger delivered to her car. The lavender air freshener had given up and just hung pitifully.

What did she have to show for all that effort, for two days and nights trying not to dislocate her jaw yawning? No more than the hole inside of that onion ring.

On the third day, Rachel sat slumped in her seat, counting windows on the building from left to right, from right to left, from top to bottom and opposite, and then diagonally. At this point, she considered making a friend with a nearby sparrow by offering what was left of her cinnamon roll.

She’d get the sparrow to talk like a parrot in the years she could be stuck here. And she didn’t think she could stomach another cup of coffee.

Then Tex’s candy-apple-red sports car rolled out of the building, and she perked up. “It’s about time to get lunch outside of the office. Enjoy!” She placed the cinnamon roll on the asphalt outside for the sparrow who barely got a crumb before being elbowed out by pigeons.

Well, Rachel didn’t have time to restore justice in the bird’s world as she had to follow Tex, staying a discreet distance behind, of course. She had tinted windows, so he wouldn’t see her, but he could get her license plate number. That would be a no-go.

He passed several decent places for lunch that made her stomach yearn, reminding her the unfinished cinnamon roll wasn’t enough to fill it. But apparently, they weren’t good enough for him.

Finally, he pulled up to an upscale female shoe store and parked.

“Huh. I guess he’s buying someone a present,” she muttered as she parked a safe distance from the store, near a café.

For his mother? That store didn’t look like the sort his mother would shop at. She clearly preferred cowboy boots, considering she’d worn them to Kennedy’s wedding and receptionandvow renewal and reception, even though the first event and reception was in a fancy hotel and the second was at the beach. Apparently, nothing got her out of her chosen footwear. And he didn’t have any sisters. He must have someone in his life. That stung. It shouldn’t matter if he had a secret love.

It wasn’t like he’d ever dated Rachel—or ever would. He didn’t even know her name or who she was, and she’d keep it that way.

She donned a cherry-red wig, a wide-brimmed crimson hat, and sunglasses. The disguise might look ridiculous, but it should still work. People would remember the bright hat and cherry hair, not the face. Then she picked up the purse that matched her hat and marched to the store.

“Do you need any help?” The store clerk rushed her way.

Rachel shook her head, hoping her wig sat well enough. It wouldn’t do to have her hat flying one way and the wig another. “No thank you. I’m good.” She lowered her voice an octave or two, hoping to make it unrecognizable.

“Okay. Let me know if you need something.” The young clerk gave her much-needed privacy. Or maybe she’d lost interest because disguise or not, Rachel didn’t look like someone who often shopped at such an upscale store. Or ever.

She wouldn’t need anything. First, she preferred combat boots and sneakers as her footwear because one never knew when one needed to run. Case in point the night of the masquerade. Second, the shoes here didn't bear any prices, because if you needed to ask, you couldn't afford them. If she did shop for shoes, the prices here would make her gasp and give her indigestion even with the meager amount of food in her stomach.

So she pretended to look at a magenta pair of high-heeled, sparkly torture devices—ahem, shoes—and even tried a few on. All the while trying to hear what Tex discussed with the cashier and then with the tall slim woman in a gray suit who must be the manager.

Then Rachel nearly gasped for a different reason. Tex was waving the lavender shoe she’d worn to the charity ball. She froze, clutching a red sandal that presumably would complete her outfit.

Was he looking for her? Yes, he was looking for her. Her pulse increased.

Riiight.

She nearly snorted as disappointment stabbed her with the force the heel in her hands could. She pursed her lips and slipped her feet into the sandals with ferociousness. He wasn’t looking forher, a simple girl who worked herself to the bone to compete in a man’s world, who didn’t have rich parents or a single diamond to her name.

He was looking for a pretty, well-off socialite covered in diamonds with all the time in the world to flirt and have fun. Maybe even available to be a beautiful accessory on the arm of a successful, important man like him.

Not to mention, he was a suspect in someone’s investigation, a possible jewel thief, and she was here to provide information about him. So far, she had pitifully scant information to provide.

Based on the frown hardening his handsome face, he didn’t get what he wanted. Good. He strode to the exit.

Uh-oh. She needed to hurry. She lowered her head so the hat hid her face, then put her oh-so-sensible and comfortable shoes back on. She’d prefer sneakers, but even she knew they didn’t go with the hat and the dress. She placed the no-doubt outrageously expensive sandals back on the shelf.

Then premonition squeezed her rib cage. She should have let him get inside his car before she left the store, but intuition prompted her to move faster. As she stepped through the glass door, a silver SUV slowed. The tinted window rolled down. Her heart dropped to the pavement. That was a gun barrel! The gun was pointed at Tex.

Oh no! She couldn’t blow her cover, but she couldn’t risk his life, either.

She shot toward Tex. “Down!”

He turned to her, and his stunned expression would bemuse her another time. But not when she tackled him to the ground. Her hat rolled off, and her sunglasses got knocked off, but she didn’t care. At least, her wig stayed in place.

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