FROM HIS KITCHEN WINDOW, Brodie watched her drive away. He wasn’t sure what that was about, but he had a feeling the lady wasn’t lost. What was she after? Didn’t matter. He’d never see her again.
A smile tugged at his mouth. Tripp would laugh at him. Brodie was known as a charmer, a ladies’ man around the rodeo circuit. He never met a woman he didn’t like. Or who didn’t like him. So what had held him back with…what did she say her name was? Alex Donovan. That was it. What held him back from getting to know Alex better?
He walked into the den and sank into his chair. Maybe he was getting older. Maybe a nice girl wasn’t on his to-do list. Or maybe his instincts told him Alex deserved better than a walk-away cowboy.
ALEX CAME THROUGH the back door and did a double take. Naddy, with her hair in rollers, was in the utility room, stuffing clothes into the washing machine.
“Get your investigating done?” Naddy asked, pouring soap onto the clothes.
“Yes. Thanks for catching on.”
“Might take me a minute, but I always catch on.” Naddy closed the lid.
“Naddy, what are you doing?”
Naddy lifted a sharp eyebrow.
“Okay. Dumb question. I’ll try again. Why are you washing clothes? I usually have to threaten you to get you to do that.”
“I’m going to Vegas and I need clean clothes.” Naddy turned the dial and water spewed into the machine. Alex couldn’t hear over the loud noise so she pulled her grandmother into the kitchen.
“Why are you going to Vegas?”
“Can’t get those idiots in control of the case to listen to me. I’m going in person. Ethel and me are driving.”
“What!” Alex followed her into her bedroom. “You are not driving to Vegas. Absolutely not.”
“I drive just as good as when I was twenty, only better. I don’t drive as fast.”
Alex took a calming breath. “You’re not driving to Vegas in your old Buick.”
Naddy placed her hands on her hips. “Are you saying that I’m old?”
“You’re seventy-eight. What do you think?”
“I think I can do what I want.”
“Naddy…”
“Ethel’s seventy-six and she doesn’t drive too bad, except she has trouble staying awake.”
“Okay. Okay.” Alex threw up her hands, knowing her grandmother was working her. “I’ll pay for your plane ticket.”
“What about Ethel? I don’t want to go alone.”
Alex gritted her teeth. “Okay. I’ll pay for Ethel, too.”
“You’re such a sucker.” Naddy laughed.
“I knew you were playing me from the start. You wouldn’t do laundry unless you were after something. And you’d better not crow too much or I’ll rescind the offer.” She paused. “Does Buck know you’re going?”
“No. You can tell him after I’m gone.”
Alex shook her head. “Oh, no. You tell him before you leave.”
“Honeychild.” Naddy put an arm around her shoulder and Alex caught a whiff of Ben-Gay. “Why do you always want that family connection to be there? It isn’t. I was a bad mother, a terrible mother. I admit that. Bucky has a right to hate me. I was young, stupid and had no idea how to raise a kid. He grew up the hard way, by himself with a string of step-daddies.”
Alex had heard this a million times and Naddy wasn’t getting around her by using that bad-mother routine. “All the same, you’ll tell him.”
“Did I say you were a sucker? Crafty is more like it.”
“I’ll be upstairs,” she said, walking away.
“Want to help with my laundry?”
“No, thanks,” Alex called, running up the stairs.
She laid the plastic bag with the comb on her dresser. In the morning she’d call a lab they used to run the test. She’d also call Helen so she could give a sample to see if Brodie was her son. One little test, but it could change a lot of lives.
That night she went to sleep seeing the bluest eyes in Texas.
THE NEXT MORNING she awoke to loud voices, which was reminiscent of her childhood. Evidently Naddy had told Buck she was going to Vegas. She didn’t bother going down. They’d yell and scream until one of them was out of breath.
She changed into jeans and a knit top. She brushed her hair and clipped it behind her head. After applying the barest of makeup, she headed downstairs.
“Don’t think I’m paying for this crazy trip!”
“I never asked you for a dime.”
“Yeah, right.”
Alex walked between Buck and Naddy. “Good morning, all. Think I’ll get my coffee on the way to work.” With her hand on the doorknob, she looked at her father. “Is the air fixed?”
“I had to work on the damn thing myself and I got it going for now. Bert’ll fix it this morning.”
“Really? The old push method didn’t work?”
Buck glared at her. “Don’t start with me. I’ve already had it with Naddy. Going to Vegas. That’s insane.” He pointed a finger at his mother. “Don’t come back to this house with a man in tow. That’s all I got to say.”
“Bucky, you take all the fun out of life.”
“Don’t call me Bucky.”
“I had those teeth fixed, didn’t I?”
Buck slammed out the door and Alex stared at her grandmother. “This certainly isn’t the Cleaver household.”
Naddy chuckled. Alex used to sit for hours watching reruns of Leave It To Beaver, wishing she had a mother like June and a father like Ward. How unrealistic was that? Not to mention outdated.
“More like a soap opera,” Naddy muttered.
Alex only grinned. “When are you leaving?”
“Ethel’s daughter is dropping her off and we’re taking a cab to the airport.”
“Be careful.” Alex hugged her.
“If I was careful, I wouldn’t have any fun.”
Alex smiled on her way out the door.
Buck wasn’t in the office so she didn’t know where he was, but at least the air was working. She called the lab to set up the DNA test. She dropped the comb off and called Helen, who was eager to help by giving her DNA. Now they waited.
As Alex worked on other cases, she kept thinking about Brodie. Maybe someday she’d have the opportunity to apologize for stealing his comb.
BRODIE WOKE UP to quiet, like always. That’s the way he wanted it. His friends called him a people person because he acted outgoing on the rodeo circuit, but he was really a loner. He enjoyed the peace and the quiet. Maybe that had something to do with age, too.
When he was younger, partying was in his blood. The more people around him, the better he liked it. Today life was more sedate and that suited him. He was comfortable with his life choices, but he’d probably always regret the rift with his parents. At least they’d tried to work through it as a family. That was important to him.
He showered and slipped into jeans. After shaving, he reached for his comb, but it wasn’t there. He looked in the drawer, then the cabinet. The comb had disappeared.