Genny's Ballad: The Sisters, Texas Mystery Series, Book 5 Read online

  Oblivious to the drama around him, Blake leaned forward to grab another chip from the bowl on the coffee table. Without missing a beat, Genny swooped forward and proclaimed, “I know. I’m the one who taught you—” her fingers worked beneath the boy’s armpit as she finished with false glee “—how to tickle your brother!”

  A tussle ensued, punctuated by laughter. It broke up the cloud of embarrassment that hovered in the room. Cutter held Blake down while Meagan and Bethani pounced on the boy and added their own tickling torture. At the first opportunity, Genny slipped quietly away to the kitchen.

  Madison followed.

  “Gen, are you all right?”

  “Sure.”

  “Liar.”

  She groaned and sagged against the counter. “There’s nothing like making a fool of yourself and having it broadcast on national television.”

  “Tell me about it. I do it every week.”

  Genesis gazed into the living room. Cutter wrestled with the kids, sparking squeals of delight from the girls and mild heckling from Blake. Even at this distance, she could see the ripples of muscle and corded strength beneath his cotton shirt. Cutter Montgomery was one fine specimen of man.

  “He’s out of my league,” Genny whispered miserably. “And Bethani said it best. I’m too old for him.”

  “She did not say that.”

  “But she was thinking it. We all were.”

  Shannon joined them in the kitchen. Her smile was mischievous. “Judging from the look in his eyes, I don’t think Cutter was. And his opinion is the only one that matters.”

  Genesis rubbed her face in a woeful gesture. “I can’t believe Amanda put all that stuff on TV. What was she thinking?”

  “If I know Amanda,” Madison said of the show’s producer, “she was thinking ratings will go through the roof. You know how people devour a good love story.”

  “There’s no love story to tell,” Genny protested.

  Madison gave her the ‘mom look’. Shannon openly smirked. No words were needed. Their direct gaze was enough to make Genny squirm.

  “There’s not,” Genny insisted again, but her protest was weak.

  Her phone binged with a message. Madison saw Cutter’s name flash across the screen. “Sure there’s not,” she said dryly. “You’ve been out of his sight five minutes.”

  “He’s just worried something is wrong.” Genny tapped back a quick reply, citing thirst.

  As she sent the message, Genny’s phone rang with an incoming call. The caller ID simply gave a location of New York, New York.

  “Probably a junk call,” she guessed, but she answered anyway. “Hello?... Is anyone there?” She thought she heard an indrawn breath. She disconnected immediately, but not before the chill crawled up her spine.

  “Gen? Why are you so pale? Who was that?” Madison asked in concern.

  “No one was there.” She shook away her unease. “I’ve been getting a lot of these lately. Telemarketers, I’m sure.” She said it to convince herself, as much as them.

  “You should put your number on the no-call list,” Shannon advised.

  “I have. But somehow they still get through.” Genny set her phone aside, determined to put the calls out of her mind. This was the third week in a row to get such a call. Genny helped herself to the wine glasses in Granny Bert’s cupboard. “I’ve had a rough day. Wine, anyone?”

  Chapter Four

  Almost everyone in The Sisters watched Home Again: Starting Over. Last night’s episode was no exception. At least half of those people, it seemed, ate at the restaurant today. Long before noon, Genesis had grown weary of the teasing. Cutter was working out of town and unable to come in for lunch, but Genny thought it was just as well. No need adding fuel to the flame, even though it meant she faced the firing squad alone.

  Genny unconsciously watched for Pembrook all day, expecting the man to pop in again. Even though she was adamant about him not being welcomed there, she knew he would return. It was merely a matter of time. Pembrook Harris did not give up so easily.

  It all made for a long day, especially when a cook called in sick.

  The clock finally crawled its way to eight pm. Genny turned off the Open sign at five minutes until the hour. She had made it through the day without Pembrook darkening her door; no need tempting the fates now.

  An hour later, she balanced a bag stuffed with take-out boxes in one arm and her briefcase in the other, as she locked the door behind her and set the alarm.

  Genny paused to study her surroundings before stepping away from the building. Years of living in the city had taught her to stay alert. The habit had slipped a bit since returning to The Sisters, but tonight her diligence seemed prudent. It was more than the fact that she was the last one leaving. More than the fact that her car waited in the back alley. More than the shadows that surrounded her and the telephone calls. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, it was because of Pembrook.

  Genesis was almost to the car when a noise drew her attention. She threw a furtive glance over her shoulder and saw him there, emerging from the shadows. His hands were in his pockets of his khaki chinos as he casually sauntered her way. If not for the late hour and the secluded location, he could have been out on an afternoon stroll through the park.

  “Good evening to you, Genesis.”

  She tried to gauge the distance between herself and the car, versus herself and him. No matter. She knew the odds were not even, not where Pembrook was concerned. Running now would be too obvious. Plus, it would be like running from a dog; he would relish the chase.

  Hard as it was, Genny forced herself to move at the same pace, all the while lengthening her stride to escape him.

  “I thought we might have a little chat,” the man said in his stilted accent as he moved steadily toward her. Genny had often wondered if that, too, was fake.

  “This isn’t a good time.”

  “Why not? The restaurant is closed. No customers to distract you or demand your attention.” He was closer now, his voice slightly louring. “It’s just you and me.”

  “I-I’m meeting someone.”

  “Are you headed out to meet your lover? That little boy I saw you with yesterday?” He spat the words with disdain.

  There was another rustle from the shadows. The keel of cowboy boots struck against pavement as Cutter strode purposefully forward. Even with darkness around him, Genesis could see the determined set of his jaw. The rigid carriage of his broad shoulders. She thought of an old western movie, where the hero could elicit equal measures of fear and confidence, simply by the way he carried himself.

  Thank God, Cutter to the rescue. She almost smiled.

  The cowboy firefighter completely ignored the English dandy as he tromped into the dim circle of light, focused on Genny’s pale face. His hazel eyes silently commanded her to follow his lead.

  “Sorry I’m running late, darlin’,” he said smoothly. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

  “N-Not at all,” she murmured.

  Her knees sagged in relief, even before Cutter reached her side and swept her into his arms. Genesis did not think to question his sudden appearance. She never guessed his intentions. She slumped into him as he bent his head to hers and kissed her soundly on the lips.

  Genesis was too surprised to respond. Her hands were still full, suspended outward on either side of his body. She knew the kiss was solely for the benefit of her unwanted visitor, but it did not stop her body from warming. From absorbing his strength and mere presence.

  After a thorough kiss, Cutter raised his head and only spared Pembrook a brief and baleful glimpse. His voice was a low rumble against her breast. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Being the gentleman that he was, Cutter normally insisted on carrying her load. Tonight, however, he kept his hands free as he placed himself between her and Pembrook. He spared one arm, hooking it around her waist as he ushered Genesis in the opposite direction of her car.

  Genesis glanced over
her shoulder at their audience of one. Pembrook watched with a snarl upon his crooked mouth. His hands were now out of his pockets and clenched tightly at his sides. A shiver passed through her shoulders, knowing he would not take his dismissal lightly.

  She was only vaguely surprised to see Cutter’s truck parked across the way. Unlike with Pembrook, the knowledge that Cutter watched her from the shadows did not fill her with revulsion. Instead, it made her feel safe. Protected.

  Cutter helped her crawl into his one-ton truck. Even with running boards, the height was a challenge for her. He took the bag from her hands and placed it on the floorboard by her feet, making certain she was settled before closing the door behind her. She noticed how he scanned the area for signs of danger, even after they pulled out onto the road. His concern made her feel warm and fuzzy inside.

  Then Cutter spoke, jerking her right down from the clouds she floated upon. His voice sounded angry.

  “Who’s the dandy, Genny, and why is he hanging around you, sneaking up on you like that?”

  She ventured a glance his way. His jaw clenched tightly, his handsome face set in hard lines. “How... Why are you here?” she finally thought to ask.

  “I knew you weren’t telling me the whole story.” His tone was slightly accusing. “I knew the man was trouble. I was afraid he might make his move. And like most cowards, he did it when he thought you were most vulnerable.”

  “You were watching me?” Her voice was incredulous. So much for being alert.

  Instead of answering, he growled, “Who is he, Genesis?”

  She did not answer as Cutter kept an eye on the rear view mirror. Genny knew he worried about being followed. Had she been as diligent? Unease nibbled at her mind. Would she have noticed if Pembrook followed her home at night? Did he know where she lived?

  Of course he did. In a small town, all he had to do was ask. In their quest to be helpful, people gave information freely and unsuspectingly. No one would ever dream the charming Englishmen might be up to no good.

  As Genny’s house passed in the rear-view mirror, she needlessly said, “You missed my drive.”

  “I told you before, Genny, this isn’t over. I want to know what’s going on.” It was the first time he had spoken since they left town. Both had been lost in the tense silence that surrounded them.

  There was no need to ask where they were going. Genny knew they would wind up at the house he was re-modeling on his family’s ranch. She clung to the edge of the seat as they bounced over the rough trail leading to the hill’s crest.

  At the summit, Cutter braked the truck and killed the engine. Instead of opening the door and getting out, he spoke in the darkness. “I’m not mad at you, Genny. I just need to know what’s going on with the dandy.”

  “I told you before. He’s nobody.”

  “But he once was,” he insisted. His jaw was set with a stubborn angle. When he turned toward her, she caught a glint of moonlight in his eyes. They were clearly tortured. “Who was he, Genny? The husband you once told me about?”

  "No, Cutter,” she assured him, her voice mellowing. “He most definitely was not my husband.”

  Moonlight revealed the nerve that twitched in his clenched jaw. “A lover, then?”

  “It never went quite that far.”

  His hands relaxed their grip on the steering wheel, but he was still wary. “Then why is he here?”

  Her sigh carried through the confines of the truck. “Can we get out?” she suggested.

  While she dug through the bag with the carryout cartons and found the one she wanted, Cutter came round to open her door. He petted the dog that traveled in the back of his truck more often than not.

  “Will he eat a cookie?” she offered, pulling one from a carton.

  “Deogee eats anything that doesn’t eat him. Don’t you, boy?” Cutter scratched behind the dog’s ears and was rewarded with a look of adoration.

  “What kind of name is Deogee, anyway?”

  “D.O.G. Deogee.”

  Genesis laughed when she heard the explanation. “That’s a good one,” she admitted. She slipped the dog another Gennydoodle cookie.

  Cutter took her elbow as they crossed the grassy pasture to the house.

  “What happened to the ground?” she asked, stumbling on the clots of dried dirt. “Did you plow it up for a garden?”

  “Hogs hit the other night,” he explained. Aggravation seeped into his voice again. “They’re a real nuisance, rooting around, looking for something to eat. Tear up a perfectly good pasture.”

  “No wonder all the ranchers complain about them. Can’t you do something about them?”

  “They’re feral hogs. Wild, just like deer.”

  “Is there a season on them?”

  “Anytime is hog season.” He smiled suddenly, grinning down at her in his charming way. “Hey, want to go hog hunting some time? I don’t have a spotlight with me, or we could go tonight.”

  “What do you do? Just shoot them wherever you see them?”

  “Shoot them, trap them, get rid of them anyway you can. Some people eat the meat, but the big boars have a gamy taste that’s hard to get rid of.”

  “I heard people actually sell hunts. Hunters come from all over, just to hunt hogs.”

  “It’s true,” Cutter confirmed. “It’s a big business for some, but we do it for damage control. The hogs travel all around, so sometimes they might be here on our place, sometimes way over at the edge of the county. I’ll take you hunting the next time they hit,” he promised.

  He opened the door to the old house and ushered her inside. The home originally belonged to his grandparents, but he was slowly turning it into his own domain. Walls were in various stages of deconstruction to create better flow and bigger rooms. The process was messier and slower than the revamp over at the Big House, but Genny suspected the results would be no less impressive. Whereas her friend’s house was a Victorian mansion filled with intricate fretwork and finely carved woods, Cutter’s was an old farmhouse, once filled with a rambunctious family and plenty of character and love. If he was lucky, he could recreate the same elements in his version of the home.

  “Watch out,” Cutter warned as he bent to plug in an extension cord. Light glared from several work lamps set around the perimeter of the large room. Their harsh beams were blinding to look at, but the indirect glow softened as they made their way into the kitchen.

  “Hey, it’s looking good in here!”

  “I took your suggestions,” Cutter said. He proceeded to point out some of them. “It’s just a shell now, but is this what you meant about the big center island? There’s plenty of room along this side for the extra dishwasher you suggested. Shelves for appliances. Lots of electrical plugs.” He grinned up at her, indicating an empty space. “Room for your coveted warming drawers.”

  Genny’s dimples flashed with pleasure. On a previous tour, she had made several suggestions on how he might design the kitchen and other key areas of the home. It was good to know he valued her opinion and took her advice to heart.

  “Filled with apple turnovers, of course,” she teased.

  “Of course.”

  “Speaking of apple turnovers...” She held the Styrofoam container up for exhibit.

  Cutter took a whiff of the air and closed his eyes with a satisfied smile. “And that’s why I love you so much, Genny darlin’.”

  She laughed, but the words sounded so delicious falling from his lips. Don’t be a fool, Genesis. It was one kiss. One he probably has already forgotten.

  Cutter looked around for appropriate seating. He came up with a stack of boards stretched across two overturned five-gallon buckets. He sat down first, bouncing up and down to test their strength.

  “Sit here in the middle, or we’ll have a see-saw,” he warned.

  “Are you saying I weigh more than you?” She pretended to take offense. “No, wait. Don’t answer.”

  He wisely patted the board beside him. “I’m saying you should
sit right here beside me.”

  Genesis settled on the makeshift bench, hoping it would hold her weight. Cutter shifted, throwing a long leg over the board so that he straddled the seat and was facing her. He pulled his knees in so that they cocooned her.

  “For the first turnover, I’ll pretend to have forgotten about the dandy,” he told her frankly. “By the second, you’d better start talking.”

  Chapter Five

  Genny opened the box and withdrew a crusty apple turnover. There was no need to postpone the inevitable, so as she dropped the pastry into his hand, she started on her tale.

  “Have I ever told you about the Morgans?”

  “Not much.”

  “They were like my second set of parents. After mine were killed in a car accident, I didn’t have any family, other than Maddy and Granny Bert. I was an orphan.”

  Cutter heard the sorrow in her voice. Trying to lighten the mood, he bumped his knee into hers. “I’ll share my parents with you.”

  “Thanks.” She flashed a smile of appreciation. “Your dad is a sweetheart. And I adore your mom.”

  “Tug Montgomery, a sweetheart? Don’t let him hear you say that.” His scoffed denial was softened by an affectionate chuckle.

  “I tried college, but it just wasn’t for me. I wanted to be a chef. So I got into a program that allowed me to study in Paris.”

  “A fact I am eternally grateful for.” He swiped his tongue across his lips in an exaggerated gesture.

  “That’s where I first met Pembrook.”

  Cutter’s lips turned down in distaste. “I forgot this story was about him,” he grumbled.

  Genny swatted at his arm. “Do you want to hear this, or not?”

  He caught her hand midair and squeezed her fingers. “Yes, Genny, I want to hear this.”

  “I met him just before I left Paris. We met by chance, but it turned out he was a friend of a friend. We hung out together a few times, went to a couple of parties together in a group, that sort of thing. It was all very casual. I came home, got a job as a chef’s assistant in Dallas, and then two years later got my big break as a pastry chef at a hotel in Atlanta. That’s where I met the sweetest couple, Ralph and Suzanne Morgan. They were from Boston and took an instant liking to me.”