Chapter Nine

Nash

T he intimate moment between them was lost. That was probably a good thing, considering where they were. And yet his lips still tingled from the phantom contact of the kiss that never happened. Nash had been so close to kissing her, and he was having a hard time getting his head back into the investigation. All he wanted to do was sling his arm around her and buy her a drink at an upscale bar. She deserved something like that, rather than poking around after dark hoping not to step in horseshit or something.

The tension between them lingered in the air as they made their way back toward the parking lot. Despite the interruption and the awkwardness that followed, Nash couldn’t shake the feeling of longing that had surged through him during their almost kiss. His mind raced with conflicting thoughts—wanting to protect Dolly from any potential harm that may come their way as they delved deeper into the investigation while also battling the desire to keep her close, to feel that electric connection once more. Hopefully, this case wouldn’t be going on for too much longer. Nash believed that they were getting closer to unraveling the mystery of what Blevins was up to. He knew, though, that once they did catch a break, Jackson Blevins might not go down easily. He wanted Dolly out of the picture long before that happened.

And as much as he hated prematurely crossing suspects off the list, he had a feeling that investigating Shane Calland and the Viking Ranch wouldn’t lead to anything. Which left him with Taylor Keating, Hector Ortiz from the Jaripeo Ranch, and Ryan Chester from the Rocky Ridge Ranches as his main leads to follow. He’d make it a point to talk to them as soon as tomorrow after he got back from Dallas to see his sister.

“What made you decide to be a private investigator?” Dolly blurted out, as if she was trying too hard to break through the awkwardness.

“I like the challenge of figuring out puzzles. I didn’t want to work for anyone else again. So doing this allows me to be my own boss.”

“Make your own rules?”

“And make sure the rules get followed.”

A pained look crossed Dolly’s face. “Sometimes you have to break the rules or bend them a bit.”

“Now you sound like my father.”

“Ouch,” she said. “He did a number on you, didn’t he?”

“He did indeed.”

“You were never tempted to find him? I mean with all the resources that the FBI has…”

“No.” Nash didn’t mean to cut her off, but he also didn’t want to hear it out loud. He heard it in his own brain often enough. And whenever he had to speak to his mother.

But when Dolly blinked at him in shock, he realized that it had come out harsher than she deserved to be on the receiving end of. She wasn’t Miles, after all.

“It’s illegal to do that unless he’s a suspect in an investigation,” he said in what he thought was a more reasonable tone.

“From what you said, he’s probably a suspect in someone’s investigation.”

“But not mine. I’m not going to chase him all over the world.” The last thing he had heard was his father was pretending to be a member of the royal family of some obscure country that sounded feasible enough to allow him free room and board all over Europe.

“Even if it meant you could find him and maybe stop him from hurting anyone else?”

“You sound a lot like my mother right now.”

“That sounds like an insult,” she said, a small note of hurt in her voice.

He was fucking this up. Badly. Dolly had no idea she was pushing all his buttons. “You’d understand if you ever met her.”

“Do you see her often?”

Nash shook his head. “She’s toxic.”

“I’m sorry.” She laid a hand on his arm. “If you ever want, you’re welcome to join me and my sisters for some family time. It’s chaotic, noisy, and loud as hell. But no one is toxic.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“I bet you were a good agent.”

“I tried to be.” Not good enough, though.

“It sounds like it was exciting. How does being a PI compare?”

“It has its moments, that’s for sure. This is about as exciting as it gets. Most of this job is paperwork and computer time, not just skulking around in the dark with a beautiful woman.”

Dolly smiled at that, so maybe he’d managed to salvage the situation.

“The trail leading to Blevins and what he’s up to is finally narrowing down.” He jerked his thumb behind them. “Victor Lance knows more than he’s saying. But he’s too afraid of Blevins to spill the beans. The Mexican fighting bulls or the petting zoo are new ventures that could be a front for smuggling or racketeering. While it would be nice to catch Blevins red-handed, the more likely way this is going down is through research and dumb luck.”

“Sounds like my job too, sifting through tons of social media content to find that one viral post. Don’t forget, I can do some digging online too if you need me to research something. Two heads are better than one.”

“I don’t want you to risk your job for this. I know how busy you are. You’ve got to make me look good after all.”

“I’m not going to have to work all that hard.” She gestured to where the petting zoo was locked up tight for the night. “Donnan over there is going to make you an internet sensation. While we’re here, we should check on him.”

“Might as well.”

The petting zoo loomed like a child’s playroom abandoned at dusk, scattered with the shapes of miniature animals sleeping or shifting restlessly in their enclosures. Miniature goats nestled together for warmth, a solitary donkey stood stoically by the fence, and fluffy rabbits burrowed into the hay.

“Looks peaceful,” Dolly murmured, her flashlight beam dancing across the little signs that listed information about each animal.

“Doesn’t seem like Blevins’s style to put together a petting zoo for kids out of the blue,” Nash said. “I wonder what he’s really up to here.”

“His style is more like mud wrestling pigs or something.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” Nash grinned.

“As long as everyone consents,” Dolly said, “I’m fine with it. I just don’t want to promote it.”

They inspected the floors, but it didn’t look like there were any secret compartments hastily covered up by straw. Donnan was sleeping peacefully by a larger version of himself. The goats bleated softly as they passed by. They moved on by where the pygmy pigs were snuggled up for the night. “No hidden diamonds in their pen that I can see. No bags of drugs crammed in between the feed bags. I’m beginning to get discouraged,” Dolly said.

“This is a dead end,” he said. “We should go. It’s getting late.”

When they left the petting zoo, they had to pass by one of the horse barns to get back to where the Winnebago was parked. Nash trailed behind, his eyes never leaving her figure as she moved with a sexy sway.

“That’s not supposed to be like that,” she said, pointing toward one of the horse barns. The door was hanging open. “Let’s go check it out.” She tugged his hand and pulled him in the direction of the building.

“Careful,” he murmured as Dolly’s boot caught on a tractor rut just before the entrance. Her body lurched forward precariously.

He grabbed her to him, to steady her.

“Whoops,” she breathed, her tone a mixture of relief and something richer, more potent. They were close, too close, and yet not nearly close enough. The warmth from her body seeped into his, a welcome heat in the coolness of the Texan night.

“Thanks,” Dolly managed, her voice barely above a whisper. The scent of her hair—vanilla and fresh hay—was intoxicating. His heart hammered against his chest, each beat a drumline to the tension that crackled in the air.

“Any time,” he replied, his hands lingering at her sides for a moment longer than necessary.

Their gazes locked. Her lips parted slightly, an invitation he felt powerless to decline. With deliberate slowness, he leaned in, his breath mingling with hers, until there was no space left for doubts or second thoughts.

Her lips met his in a kiss that was anything but tentative. It was passionate, intense—a conflagration of emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface of their every interaction. The taste of her was sweet, like the sugared rim of a cocktail glass, a hint of mischief wrapped in allure.

Dolly responded with equal fervor, her fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. Their bodies pressed together, her curves melding into his angles, as if they were two puzzle pieces finally fitting into place. The softness of her mouth against his rugged one was a contrast that sent a shudder through him.

Nash savored the feeling of her against him, the way her chest rose and fell in quick succession, mirroring his own erratic breathing. The sensation of her heartbeat pounding through the thin fabric of her shirt created a rhythm that danced in tandem with his.

For a stolen moment, nothing else existed outside the cocoon of their embrace—the looming threat of Jackson Blevins’s illicit activities, the expectations of a life lived in the narrow confines of right and wrong—all faded into insignificance. In the dim light of the horse barn, Nash felt Dolly’s pulse quicken as his hands steadied her waist. Their breath mingled, a silent conversation of desire that no words could convey.

“And I thought I was going to catch a couple of horse thieves.” Finn’s voice cut through the thick air of the barn, abrupt and unwelcome. Shadows shifted as he stepped into view from around a stall, a half-eaten apple in his hand revealing his unannounced presence. He pulled on a chain and harsh overhead lights flashed on.

Dolly drew back, her cheeks red. She smoothed down her shirt, in an attempt to restore some semblance of order after their heated embrace. Her eyes darted between Nash and Finn.

“Evening, Finn,” Nash said, tamping down on his annoyance. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to feign indifference. The taste of Dolly’s lips lingered, a bittersweet reminder of what they had just jeopardized.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Finn replied, crunching into his apple with a casualness that belied the tension now threading the air. He leaned against the wooden frame of the stall, a silent observer to the undercurrents swirling between them. “But I wanted to make my presence known before things went any further.”

Dolly flushed deep crimson.

“I wasn’t aware that someone has been stealing horses,” Nash said, stepping in front of her protectively.

“Not stealing, yet. But definitely messing around with equipment. Stardust’s food was knocked on the floor. Beatrice’s bridle was on the floor of the stable, half covered in horseshit. And the barn door was left unlocked on more than one occasion.”

“Did you report this to security?” Nash asked.

Finn shook his head. “I figured we’d handle it ourselves. Probably just dumb kids or someone who would see the error in their ways with a good beatdown.”

“Probably,” Nash said.

Dolly bit her lip, and uncharacteristically, hid behind him. Nash watched her closely, noted the subtle shift in her posture, the way her hands clenched ever so slightly at her sides. She seemed to be afraid of something. Could she suspect Finn was working with Blevins?

“What are you two doing out here so late? Loretta kick you out of the RV?” Finn grinned.

“No,” Dolly said, clearing her throat.

“Because she and Taylor have been getting kind of close.”

“Nash and I were just…walking,” she said lamely.

This was going to be more fuel for the rumor mill, but he might as well roll with it.

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Finn said.

“It’s my fault,” Nash said. “I had wanted to take a look at the bulls. I was wondering if the Mexican fighting bulls had arrived for tomorrow’s lineup or if we would have to wait until Laredo.”

“Nah, we won’t see them until the next rodeo.”

“I wonder if they’re really as tough as they say.”

“Me too.” Finn’s interest was piqued. His apple was forgotten as he tossed it aside. “I don’t know much about them, but usually the Mexican fighting bulls are more squirrelly than other breeds. I do know Blevins is particular about his stock.”

“Particular, how?” Dolly asked.

“He doesn’t let anyone handle the bulls but his own guys,” Finn said. “Says they’re too temperamental for the average Joe.”

“Which guys?”

“Hector, Taylor, and Ryan.”

Bingo. Nash tried to conceal his excitement.

“Taylor Keating?” Dolly said faintly.

“Yeah, your sister’s sweetie. He’s got a way with bulls.”

“And bullshit,” she muttered.

“Hector Ortiz is from Jaripeo, right? I figured he’d know his own bulls. But Ryan Chester is originally from Rocky Ridge out of Canada, right?” Nash asked.

Finn scratched his chin. “I don’t know. Ryan’s been working for the UPRC for as long as I’ve been here. I don’t really know him or Hector all that well. Maybe we could ask them for tips on riding those devils.”

“Good idea,” Nash said.

“Anyway, I’m sorry I interrupted you guys. I could come back in a half hour. Would that give you two enough time?”

Dolly exhaled a shuddering breath. “We should go,” she muttered, her words as unsteady as her steps as she nearly ran out of the barn. That wasn’t like the Dolly he had come to know. She didn’t get embarrassed easily, at least he didn’t think so. Besides, it was just a kiss. They hadn’t gotten that carried away. He shrugged at Finn, who tugged on the string to return the barn to darkness.

“Are you all right?” Nash said, hurrying to catch up with Dolly.

“Fine. Just fine.”

“I’m sure Finn’s not going to say anything.”

She gave a bitter laugh. “Of course he is. Bull riders gossip worse than old ladies. But that’s okay. I’m sure Pat has already gotten the ball rolling on that news.”

“Well, at least Finn didn’t think we were snooping around.”

“No, he thought we were screwing around.”

“Well,” Nash said. “To be fair. We were.”

He should be focusing on Jackson Blevins. Instead, his mind replayed the softness of Dolly’s lips, the desperate grip of her fingers, and the way her body had pressed against his—no, this was not the time for distractions. “Look, maybe I was out of line with the kiss…” he began.

She whirled on him. “No, that’s not it. I liked it. The kiss.”

He was pleasantly surprised. “Then why are you running like your tail’s on fire?”

Folding her arms in front of her, Dolly bit her lip. “I just don’t like an audience.”

“Are you sure that’s all that’s bothering you?” he asked, stroking his fingers down her cheek.

“I guess I’m just tired. It’s been a long day. And tomorrow is gearing up to be a longer one.”

That was true. They walked back to her Winnebago in silence.

“Do you think the coast is clear?” he asked.

“It better be. If it’s not, expect to see Taylor running out of there in a few minutes with his underwear on and carrying his boots.”

“I could come inside with you,” he asked, wondering if he sounded hopeful or desperate.

“Tempting. But I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you,” he said. At least the night had given him some new leads to follow. And one hell of a kiss.