She patted his chest. “No. I don’t think Bryce would much like that. I’ll have to live on your tales. Now, do you want to tell me why you came home early but didn’t bother to mention it to your only sibling?”
“I didn’t want you to make a big deal out of it.” If he knew his sister, she would have met him on the outskirts of town with balloons and a cake. “It’s best if I come in quietly, like I intend to live.”
“You can’t let them intimidate you, Trev.” Shelley had always been a bit of a rebel. Her good looks and sweet nature had ensured her place in the pecking order, but she tended to push the boundaries.
He intended to make sure she didn’t get in trouble because of him. He’d already caused his family enough heartache. “Don’t worry about me. I don’t intend to leave the ranch much. It’s almost calving season. I’ll have a lot of work to do. From what I hear, O’Malley’s been without a foreman for a couple of years. I’ll have my work cut out for me.”
It was just what he needed. A lot of ridiculously physical work. Ranch work would take up all of his time and leave him without the strength to even think about drinking at night. Or during the day. It was always there at the edge of his consciousness, teasing him, taunting him. He longed for the day where he didn’t think about a bottle for a couple of minutes.
The mischievous imp was back. Shelley’s eyes lit up. “I still wouldn’t mind coming out to that ranch sometime. They say it’s a den of inequity. Did you know that Lexi calls both those men her husbands?”
Oh, it was worse than that. Trev had watched Aidan top his subs at The Club. Aidan and Lucas were lovers, too. A true threesome.
Trev had zero interest in sleeping with another man, but he had envied Lucas and Aidan’s camaraderie. He’d liked the way they both worked to love and care for their wife. Maybe if he had someone like Lucas, he wouldn’t be so afraid he would fail a woman. He’d played with subs once he’d been given the go-ahead to work in The Club, but he hadn’t formed any kind of relationship. He just wasn’t cut out for that.
Yeah, his BDSM past really would help his standing in the community. Hell, as far as he could tell, no one was going to talk to him, much less be friends with him. And he deserved it. He’d said some hateful things about his hometown when he was less than in control. He imagined he wouldn’t be forgiven for that either.
“I’ll see if I can get you invited out to dinner sometime.” Trev was looking forward to getting to know Aidan O’Malley. At least he had one person in this town whom he had a lot in common with. They had never said more than a passing hello while at The Club. Though they were from the same town, he’d been a couple of years behind Aidan.
Trev had been surprised Aidan wanted him to be his foreman. Trev had always assumed Aidan didn’t really like him. It was nice to be proven wrong for once.
“Stay the night with us tonight.” Shelley practically pleaded with him.
It was a righteously bad idea, but she was his sister, and he’d been planning on spending the evening at a cut-rate motel since his meeting with Aidan wasn’t until tomorrow. “All right.”
Maybe it would be fine. Maybe he and Bryce would get along and he wouldn’t have to worry about causing his sister more trouble.
She hugged him. “I’m glad you’re home.”
He hoped she wasn’t the only one.
Chapter Three
Mouse put the finishing touches on the big bed. She’d cleaned it, and now with brand-new sheets, it looked comfy and homey. She’d gotten rid of the heavy drapes and the dark quilts. Now the room looked light and airy, despite the ornate nature of the furnishings. Once she’d stripped and refinished the antique bedroom set, it would look just right. For now, she was perfectly satisfied with her afternoon’s work. The bedroom was fresh and feminine, and the bathroom fixtures all worked. She’d scrubbed the bathroom until she was sure her arms would fall off, but it sparkled now. The antique claw-footed tub was a beautiful monstrosity. She couldn’t wait to soak in it, but she’d been practical. She’d used the shower.
She moved in front of the window unit, allowing the cold air to caress her skin. She felt different somehow.
Stronger.
She had a home, and it was all hers. Despite the fact that the majority of her belongings were back at her parents’ house, she intended to spend the night here. She had an overnight bag with some clothes and her personal items.
Of course, she could always try on the clothes she’d found. Her eyes strayed to the trunk she’d discovered in the back of the master closet. She’d felt odd opening it, like she was spying on someone, but according to the contract she’d signed, the trunk and all its contents now belonged to her. Maudine Bellows only had one relative, and he’d died six months before she had. Even if Barry Bellows hadn’t been killed in a car accident, Mouse seriously doubted he would have wanted his elderly aunt’s clothes. The property was another matter. He would have been deeply interested in that. Barry Bellows had run a real estate agency along with his partner, Bryce Hughes. Bryce had already offered to take the place off her hands.
Mouse wasn’t interested in making a quick buck. If Bryce Hughes got his hands on the place, he would probably tear it down and put in a convenience store or a fast-food restaurant. The last thing Deer Run needed was another place to get a ninety-nine cent burger.
Mouse let the thought go. It was nicer to think about the trunk. It had been like finding a treasure trove. Gorgeous, classic clothes. Vintage designers. She knew a couple of the names. Chanel. Givenchy. Everything looked like it had come straight out of a Doris Day film. Or Audrey Hepburn.
Old Lady Bellows had secrets she’d hidden.
And the pictures. Mouse had stared at them in shocked disbelief. Apparently during Hollywood’s heyday, Maudine Bellows had worked in Dallas for Republic Pictures. The old black-and-white photos told the tale. Maudine was smiling as she stood next to John Wayne and Clarke Gable. Maudine had lived a life.
Mouse couldn’t help but wonder why Maudine’s final years had been so lonely and bitter. The woman smiling in the pictures alongside Claudette Colbert had little resemblance to the Maudine Mouse had known.
Along with the clothes and photos, Mouse had found a thick book. A diary. Maybe the truth of Maudine’s life was in there. She’d only glanced at the first page, the lines written in a flowy, feminine hand. The first words of the diary had been written on July 5, 1956.
This is my diary. I will kill anyone who reads it. Yes. That means you.
Yep, there was a reason Maudine Bellows had never been married. Mouse touched the book and slid it into the dresser drawer she’d cleaned out earlier. It was now free of old antacids, a mildewed V.C. Andrews paperback, and a hideous set of what Mouse was pretty sure were bottom-teeth dentures. She’d handled those with care. There was a rumor that Maudine had eaten several local children with those false teeth.
She sighed and decided to get dressed. Bo should be here any minute. She picked out a skirt and a T-shirt. It was boring, but that was who she was.
Was that who she had to be?
She stared down at the clothes. They looked like they might fit. Many of them were far too formal for dinner at Patty Cake’s, but there was a pretty yellow-and-white sundress. The skirt was gathered, and the neckline was far lower than anything she’d worn before. Surely it wouldn’t fit, but did it really hurt to try?
Ten minutes later, Bo knocked on her door. She let him in, grateful that the lights in the parlor worked. The hall light didn’t, but she had enough illumination from the parlor and the living room. She strode toward the back of the house to the living area and shut off the lamp, leaving only the soft light from the parlor on.