Getting Lucky (A Nugget Romance Book 5) Read online

  “For right now we’re keeping it quiet,” Jake said, and Lucky heard the screen door close. “I’ve only got a second before your ma comes looking for me. I’d appreciate you not telling anyone. We don’t want to tip our hat to the other investigation.”

  “All right,” Lucky said. “But who do you have in custody?”

  “I have to go.” Jake clicked off, leaving Lucky in suspense.

  “Who was that?” Tawny came into the kitchen in a long fitted sweater, black stretchy pants, and the obligatory cowboy boots, toweling her hair dry.

  “Jake,” he answered, and watched her bend over to pour a cup of coffee. The woman had a great ass. “I still can’t go back to my place.”

  “I wouldn’t think you could. You wanna take Katie to school?”

  He smiled. “Yeah. I’d like that. She up?”

  “Yep. She’s doing her Project Runway thing.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means she tries on everything in her closet before making a decision about what to wear for the day. We’re invariably late.”

  “She have a lot of clothes?”

  “Yep. The Marcum girls are taller than Katie. She gets all their hand-me-downs. And the Marcum girls are serious about fashion.”

  Lucky didn’t know the Marcums. But he didn’t want his daughter wearing hand-me-downs. “I’ll take her over to Farm Supply later and buy her a few things.”

  Tawny stopped sipping her coffee. “Lucky, I know you’re a big celebrity bull rider now, with lots of money to burn building big houses, paying scads of child support, and buying Katie everything under the sun. But I don’t want you to. First of all, I can’t keep up. Second of all, I don’t want my daughter to be spoiled. Everyone, except for Raylene, wore hand-me-downs growing up in this town. It’s the way we live up here. Try not to forget that.”

  “I’m making up for nine years. If I want to buy my daughter a few pretty things, I should be allowed to.”

  That’s when Katie walked in the door wearing something more Raylene’s style than anything a nine-year-old should be allowed to wear.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” Tawny said, tugging down Katie’s miniskirt. “You’re not leaving the house wearing that. Go back and change.”

  Katie was momentarily startled to see Lucky in the kitchen. “Hi, Daddy.”

  He picked her up and gave her a big kiss. “How’s my girl?”

  “Good. But I want to wear this.”

  Lucky looked at Tawny, who shook her head and said, “Hurry up and change, Katie. Your dad’s taking you to school and you barely have time for breakfast.”

  “Mom, everyone wears stuff like this,” she whined.

  “Please don’t make me tell you again. Dress warm. It’s getting cold.”

  Katie made a face, but to her credit did as her mother asked. Tawny was amazing with her, and Katie was a sweet girl. His sweet girl.

  “Nice hoochie-mama hand-me-down,” Lucky said, and shook his head. “I’ll be getting her some Wranglers at Farm Supply.”

  “Good luck with that, because she won’t wear them.”

  “There’s got to be something there she likes that still covers her butt.”

  Tawny started to say something, only to be interrupted by Lucky’s phone.

  “Sorry,” he said, knowing from the newly assigned ringtone that it was Raylene, and picked up. “Hey.” He wandered into the living room for privacy. “You sleep okay?”

  “No, I didn’t. Where are you?”

  “At Tawny’s. I’m taking Katie to school.” He left out the part that he’d stayed the night. Hey, he hadn’t done anything wrong, unless you counted thinking about it.

  On the other end, silence. Lucky waited for Raylene to berate him for spending too much time at Tawny’s.

  Instead, she said, “The police arrested my father last night. They say he killed Gus Clamper.”

  Chapter 13

  After Lucky took Katie to school, Tawny went into her studio. Working would help clear her head and get Lucky out of it. He’d been so attentive lately that she’d started to imagine that he might have feelings for her. Then Raylene crooks her little finger and he goes tearing out of Tawny’s house like his tail is on fire. Lucky had left in such a rush, he’d almost forgotten Katie.

  She was attaching the heels onto Clay’s boots when she heard a car pull up and figured it was probably the neighbor who sometimes used her driveway to turn around. But a short time later she heard Cecilia calling her name.

  “I’m back here in the studio.” Tawny went through the backyard and opened the gate. “Hi.”

  “Sorry to barge in on you like this, but I was in the neighborhood.”

  In the neighborhood, Tawny’s ass. Nothing in this part of Nugget but run-down houses and the crappy little park where she and Lucky had had their rendezvous ten years ago. “You want some coffee? I’ll make a pot.”

  “No, I’m fine,” Cecilia said. But she was obviously curious, her eyes seeking out Tawny’s shop.

  “That’s my studio. You want to see it?”

  “I would love to.”

  Tawny led the way. It was just a garage with a bunch of equipment, wooden foot forms, leather, and boots, but Tawny was quite proud of the workshop. As a kid she used to sit out here for hours watching her father refurbish and repair clocks. Like her with the boots, he’d lined the shelves with clocks he was working on for clients and ones he’d bought at flea markets or garage sales with plans to fix and sell them. There were cuckoo clocks, mantle and table clocks, wall clocks, weather and maritime clocks, even grandfather clocks.

  At one of the flea markets, he’d bought her a leather-bracelet-making kit that had never been opened. She’d sit in the corner of the studio for hours making bracelets. The first ones were crude and clumsy, but as Tawny got the knack of working with the leather she began experimenting with design, including using her paints to make flowers. Eventually she used an embossing tool to actually carve flowers into the leather. Soon, she was spending all her babysitting money online in the Tandy Leather craft shop and making purses, belts, and book covers.

  And eventually boots.

  Tawny had always been a good sewer and used her mom’s old Singer to make curtains and placemats for the house. So that part of the process came naturally. First, Tawny tried moccasins. But growing up in cattle country, she’d always admired the fancy cowboy boots the folks up here wore for special occasions. A pair of Luccheses or Old Gringos were the Manolo Blahniks of the Sierra Nevada. Tawny used to peruse the boot aisles in Farm Supply or Sheplers in Reno for hours, studying the stitch work, toe shapes, and the overall construction. Finally, she found a well-known grizzled boot-maker in Sierraville who said he’d mentor her in exchange for her feeding his chickens.

  For six months she made the trek, bringing Katie in her baby carrier, and gleaned everything she could from the guy. When he saw that Tawny had an aptitude for what he called “the fancy stuff,” he hooked her up with one of the most famous boot-makers in Texas. Together, they awarded her a “scholarship” that paid for her flight, room and board in the Texas boot-maker’s farmhouse, and a week of his tutelage. Again, she loaded up Katie and they went. To this day, she kept in touch with both boot-makers, who were happy to pass on their knowledge, hoping to keep the tradition alive.

  Cecilia gazed around the shop, her eyes catching on the particularly colorful boots and the tables of machines and cutting tools. “You have quite a place here. I had no idea.”

  “It’s small, but it works for me.”

  “You need a security alarm. This stuff is expensive.”

  Tawny wanted to laugh because this was Nugget, after all. Then again, someone had been murdered on Lucky’s ranch last night, and two years ago a meth dealer had robbed the Nugget Market. The same dealer had held Maddy hostage at the inn until Rhys shot him. The residents were still talking about it like it was yesterday.

  “I probably should,” Tawny agreed.

  Ce
cilia continued to wander around the studio. She reached for a pair of Tawny’s “Reno” boots and stopped herself. “May I?”

  “Of course.”

  She pulled them down from the shelf and admired the embellishments: rhinestones, stitched playing cards, and horseshoes. “These are beautiful.”

  To Tawny they seemed a little loud for Cecilia’s taste, but they were flashy enough to catch plenty of attention. That’s why she kept a pair in the shop.

  “What size do you wear?” Tawny asked Cecilia.

  “A seven and a half. Why?”

  Tawny found a number of pairs in Cecilia’s size, gathered them up, and brought them to the try-on bench. “Tell me how they feel on your feet.”

  Cecilia sat down and took off her sensible ankle boots, some sort of UGG knockoff that she’d probably gotten at the Costco in Reno. Tawny knew that whatever boots Cecilia reached for first were the ones she liked best. Human nature. Sure enough, she chose the same pair Tawny would’ve guessed for her. Polished black leather with a vine of red roses going down the shaft. Tawny loved those boots. They were classy with just a touch of pizzazz. Just like Cecilia.

  Cecilia slipped them on. “They feel so nice,” she said, marveling at the floral motif.

  “Walk around,” Tawny said.

  Cecilia strutted across the workshop, stopping at every mirror to pull up her pants and admire them. “They’d be beautiful with a skirt.”

  Tawny nodded. “If you like them the best, they’re yours.”

  A look of shock came over Cecilia’s face, like maybe she’d misunderstood. “You’re giving these to me?”

  “Yep,” Tawny said.

  “I can’t accept such a generous gift. This is your livelihood.”

  “Consider them a gift from your granddaughter . . . for all the Christmases and birthdays she’s missed.” Tawny’s eyes filled and she turned to wave the tears away. “I’m sorry I kept her from you, Cecilia. It was wrong. But at the time I was scared . . . I didn’t want to shake up anyone’s life . . . cause trouble. My father and I had always lived without anyone paying us any mind. The idea of suddenly being thrust into controversy . . . I was petrified.”

  “There were a lot of rumors about what happened at the Rock and River that night,” Cecilia said. “And Ray Rosser is a scary man. I ought to know after working for him for twenty years. But we would’ve handled it.” Cecilia got up and put her arms around Tawny. “You were young and trying to do what was best for your daughter. And I’m assuming that as time went on, it became even more difficult to tell the truth. I’m not happy about it, but as a single mother I understand and I forgive you, Tawny.”

  Cecilia continued to hold Tawny, who sniffled and said, “Thank you. And please keep the boots. It would mean a lot to me. And to Katie.”

  Cecilia let go of her and looked down at her feet. “They’re incredible and I’ll cherish them always. Thank you.” She rooted around in her purse and came up with a mini pack of tissues and handed it to Tawny, who blew her nose.

  “I came here to talk to you,” Cecilia said.

  “Would you prefer to go inside?” Tawny hoped she’d at least washed the dishes from breakfast.

  “That might be better.” Cecilia picked up her ankle boots. “I’ll put these in the car first.”

  Tawny thought it was nice that Cecilia had decided to wear the custom boots instead of her own. In the house she did a quick assessment. The place looked like it always did. Tidy, but threadbare. Cecilia’s was always perfect. She met Cecilia at the front door and rushed back into the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee.

  “Would you like some cookies?” Unfortunately, all Tawny had were store-bought brands. She wasn’t a baker like Cecilia.

  “I’m fine. Come sit.”

  Tawny sat beside Cecilia at the breakfast table. “What did you want to talk about?”

  “The transplant,” Cecilia said. “I think when it’s over all of you should stay at my house to recuperate.” She held up her hand to keep Tawny from interrupting. “I’ve done a lot of research on the Internet, and Katie and Lucky are going to need plenty of rest. And you, Tawny, need a break. You’re tired, mija. Let me help you.”

  “My studio is here.”

  “And it took me less than five minutes to drive from my house,” Cecilia said. “You can come and work with no distractions, knowing that Katie is being well cared for. Then you’ll come back to my house . . . to a nutritious meal and a warm bed and to someone who’ll watch over you for a change.”

  It actually sounded fantastic, but where her daughter was concerned, Tawny had trouble relinquishing control. It had been just the two of them for so long. “Katie’s my responsibility.”

  “Of course she is. But you need family.”

  Cecilia and Lucky were Katie’s family, not Tawny’s. “It’s a generous offer and I promise to think about it. But at this point we don’t even know if Lucky will have all six of the HLA antigens necessary for the transplant. If he doesn’t, we’ll need you to be tested.”

  “Whatever you need. But in the meantime I want you to think about staying with me.”

  “I will,” Tawny said. “I give you my word. Has Jake said anything about getting closer to solving the shooting from last night?”

  “He’s very secretive. But until they find the culprit, I don’t like Lucky staying there alone.”

  Apparently Cecilia didn’t know that Lucky had been with Raylene. “It sounds like he can’t go back until they finish processing the scene.”

  “I was happy that he stayed here last night,” Cecilia said, making Tawny wonder what exactly Lucky’s mom thought was going on.

  “Did Lucky tell you he saw Gus after he’d been shot? I think after a shock like that, he wanted to be close to Katie.”

  “I’m sure that’s true,” Cecilia said, and smiled. “But I’ve noticed that the two of you have become good friends. Maybe a little more than friends, no?”

  “Cecilia, there is nothing between Lucky and me. He’s . . . we just share a daughter.”

  “I know about Raylene, Tawny. I don’t like it, but I know he thinks he loves her, and I will support my son. Even if he has his head up his behind.”

  Tawny laughed. “You know, I saw her the other day in the Lumber Baron and she was actually pretty nice. Perhaps she’s changed and we should all give her the benefit of the doubt.”

  Cecilia patted Tawny on the knee. “You’re a good girl. I have to go. Would you like me to take Katie after school?”

  Tawny could use the extra time in her studio, so she took Cecilia up on her offer and wished her goodbye. It would be easy for her to start relying on Lucky’s mother, but Tawny liked being self-sufficient. That way no one could disappoint her.

  Lucky tried Jake again. The damn detective wasn’t picking up his phone. Ever since he’d gotten the call from Raylene, he’d been trying to find out what the hell was going on. Why was Ray Rosser suspected of murdering Gus? As far as Lucky knew, the two men didn’t even know each other. And what had Ray been doing on Lucky’s property?

  The worst part of it was Lucky had nowhere to go. His ranch was still knee-deep in crime scene investigators. Lucky knew because he’d driven up to the gate and had been told by some yahoo in a uniform to turn around. If he went to his mother’s, he couldn’t call Jake without running the risk of her hearing the conversation. And if he went to Tawny’s, he’d break down and tell her about Ray. Something about Tawny loosened his lips. And last night had been bizarre. He’d wanted her, badly, even though he’d loved Raylene for nearly a lifetime. It was confusing.

  He thought about trying Raylene again, but she and her mother were busy getting the old man a lawyer. To hear it from Raylene, they didn’t know any more than Lucky. Just that Rhys and Jake had showed up in the wee hours of the morning, got Ray out of bed, and slapped a pair of cuffs on him. When Raylene had demanded answers, they’d shown her a warrant to search the house and left with her dad’s Smith & Wesson 8-shot N-
frame revolver. The question that kept going over and over in Lucky’s mind was, how did Ray fit into the drug investigation?

  “You want a refill on that iced tea, Lucky?” Mariah topped off his glass and stowed the pitcher in a refrigerator behind the bar. Apparently she’d taken over for the last bartender, who’d left without Lucky’s noticing.

  “Thanks.” But he didn’t touch it. If he drank any more tea, he’d have to swim out of the Ponderosa.

  “They catch anyone in the shooting last night?” she asked.

  He’d been getting the question all day. Earlier, Owen had talked his ear off about his theories of the case. The barber was a regular Sherlock Holmes. So far it didn’t seem like Ray’s arrest had made the news yet. Harlee must be asleep at the wheel.

  “Don’t know,” he lied. “Everything’s hush-hush.” At least that part of it was true.

  “Crazy.” Mariah shook her head. “That just doesn’t happen around here.”

  “I definitely think it was an isolated incident.” The last thing any of them needed was tourists thinking Nugget was the murder capital of Plumas County.

  “Did you see anything?” She leaned against the bar in front of him.

  “I heard the shots and later found Gus. He died a short time after.”

  “I’m sorry, Lucky. That must have been horrible.”

  Yeah, it wasn’t exactly a picnic.

  “Word is that it was a dispute over money,” Mariah continued.

  That was news to Lucky. But wasn’t money almost always a motive for murder? How Ray fit in was the mystery. “Where did you hear that?”

  “Harlee told Colin. He was over at the house to fix a leak and he told us.”

  The Nugget grapevine at work. “Did he know anything else?”

  “That was it. I guess Rhys and Jake are still trying to unravel it.”

  Lucky pulled out his phone. “Hey, Mariah, do you know how to set it up so I get those instant alerts from the Nugget Tribune?”

  She laughed. “It’s kind of sick, but I think Harlee’s circulation has doubled since the murder.” She took his phone, played with it for a few minutes, and handed it back. “Here you go. It’ll chirp when an update comes in. You can change it to vibrate if you want to.”