Beneath the Stetson

“I’m a highly trained computer specialist, Gil. I shouldn’t have to take up more than a week of your life.”

Too bad. He glanced at his watch. “Come say goodbye to Cade.”

In his office, he watched, perturbed, as once again his son lit up at seeing their visitor.

Gil’s son beamed. “I unlocked three more levels, Bailey.”

She nodded. “Good for you.”

Cade looked at his dad. “Are you gonna call her Bailey?”

“I suppose I will,” Gil admitted. “She’s going to be around for a while.”

Cade grinned charmingly. “That’s good.”

Gil pinched the boy’s ear. “Behave, brat. I don’t need your help finding women.”

Bailey’s face turned crimson, affording Gil a definite sense of satisfaction. It was fine by him if she felt uncomfortable. It was only fair. She was messing with his life from stem to stern in all sorts of ways. Not the least of which was his recalcitrant libido. The sooner she finished what she had to do and left town, the better.

* * *

Bailey arrived at the Texas Cattleman’s Club fifteen minutes early the following morning. A heat wave still held the area in an unseasonable grip. Though by no means reaching the brutal temperatures of July and August, the day was plenty warm. Which meant that the winter clothing Bailey had brought with her was stifling.

Deciding she could maintain a professional demeanor without her blazer, she stripped it off and laid it carefully in the backseat of the car. Rolling up the sleeves of her white silk blouse, she breathed a sigh of relief as she immediately felt cooler.

In all honesty, part of her warmth stemmed from the prospect of facing Gil Addison again. Gil was in the clear as far as the investigation went, but she was going to have to work with him to some extent in order to do her job. The fact that she was attracted to him complicated things.

As she approached the club, she assessed the physical features automatically. Built around 1910, the large, rambling, single-story building was constructed of dark wood and stone with a tall slate roof. For over a century, it had been an entirely male enclave. In the past couple of years, however, a handful of women had finally been admitted as official members. During her stay in Royal, Bailey had heard rumblings of discontent. Not everyone thought change was a good idea.

Despite her early arrival, Gil was waiting for her in the lobby. Guests were admitted only in the company of a member. She wondered if Gil felt he was betraying his position by bringing Bailey into the mix.

She greeted him quietly and looked around. High ceilings gave a sense of spaciousness even as dark floors and big leather-upholstered furniture created a cozy, masculine space. “Nice,” she said. “Is Cade with you?”

Gil pointed to the room just to the left of the entryway. “The old billiards room has been converted into the new day care center. I promised Cade if he behaved nicely for a couple of hours, he could join us for lunch.”

“I’d like that,” she said. “Your son is a pretty awesome kid.”

“I happen to think so.” He shoved his hands in his back pockets. Today, perhaps in deference to his position as president, he wore a tweed blazer over a white dress shirt. He hadn’t given up his jeans, however. Although Gil hadn’t worn his hat inside his own home, apparently within the walls of the club, a Stetson was de rigueur.

It wasn’t fair, Bailey thought desperately. How was she supposed to be businesslike when everything about him made her weak in the knees? Well, almost everything, she amended mentally. His arrogance was hard to take. She had come up against Gil’s bullheadedness in her initial interview with him. Pushing for answers had been like a futile military assault against well-fortified defenses.

Gil was a man accustomed to steering his own course. Though she didn’t pick up any vibes that he scoffed at the idea of a woman working in law enforcement, nevertheless she suspected he didn’t like having to cooperate.

As they walked down the hall toward Gil’s TCC office, she asked the question that she should have asked the day before. “Have you been to see Alex since he’s been found?”

Gil pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the solid oak door. Ushering Bailey inside, he nodded. “I did...but since he’s lost his memory, the visit was rather pointless. He had no clue who I was.”

“Were you close before he disappeared?”

“Close enough. Not bosom buddies, but we knew each other pretty well.”

“You probably should go see him again when you have a chance,” she said. “You never know when a face or voice might jog something loose.”

“I’ll think about it....”

She placed her purse and briefcase on a low table. She and Gil were standing in what appeared to be an outer reception area. More masculine leather furniture outfitted this small space. Someone had added a stuffy arrangement of artificial flowers, perhaps hoping to soften the ambience. But with various examples of taxidermy staring down from overhead, it was hard to imagine any woman feeling at home here.

Apparently, the office itself was through the closed door a few steps away. “I don’t want to snarl up your day,” she said. “If you don’t mind writing down the user name and password...and giving me a quick rundown of the program you use to input information, I should be able to work on my own.”

Gil smiled, genuine amusement on his face. That expression alone was enough to shock her. But the momentary appearance of an honest-to-God dimple in his tanned cheek took her aback. “Did I say something funny?”

He stepped past her to open the other door. “See for yourself.”

Expecting to discover the customary computer and printer equipment inside, she drew up short at the sight facing her. A dozen wooden file cabinets, four drawers high, lined the opposite wall. By the window, a deep bookshelf housed a collection of thick leather ledgers. Dust motes danced in a sunbeam that played across a patterned linoleum floor. A battered rolltop desk sat just to the left, its only adornment a brass placard that said President.

She held up her hands in defeat. “You can’t be serious.”

Gil leaned in the doorway, his relaxed posture in direct opposition to her own state of mind. “There’s something you need to understand, Bailey. The Texas Cattleman’s Club is an institution, certainly as much a part of Royal’s history as the churches and the mercantile or the feed store and the saloon. Men have come here for decades to get away from wives and girlfriends...to play poker and make business deals. Anyone who walks through the door as a full member has money and influence.”

“And your point?”

“Heritage and tradition are etched into the walls. The guys around here don’t like change.”

“Which is why the child care center drew so much controversy.”

“Yes. That, and the inclusion of women. So it shouldn’t come as any surprise to see how we keep records. The good old boys may have their iPads and their internet, but when it comes to the TCC, the old ways are the only ways. At least so far.”

“So there’s hope for modernization?”

“Maybe. But I can’t force it on them. It has to be a gradual process. If I’m lucky, and if I can spin it the right way, they’ll think it was their idea to begin with.”

“And it won’t hurt matters if a few of the old guard ride off into the sunset in the meantime.”

“You said it, not me. The TCC was here before I was born, and it will be here long after I’m gone. I’m under no illusions that being president gives me any real power. It’s more of an honorary title, if you want to know the truth.”

“I’m sure they think a great deal of you.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Why, Ms. Collins. Was that a compliment?”

The teasing grin caught her off guard. Apparently, dumping her in a dusty room full of nothing but file folders sweetened his mood. “I doubt you need compliments of any kind, Mr. Addison. In fact, I’m surprised your head isn’t already too big for that clichéd cowboy hat.”

“Don’t insult my hat,” he said solemnly, though his eyes were dancing. “Since I’m stuck with you for the foreseeable future, we might as well drop the formality, don’t you think?”

“Does that mean you trust me now?”

“Not for a minute,” he said promptly. “But I figure it’s my job to keep an eye on you...Bailey.”

The way he said those two syllables made her stomach curl with something that felt a lot like desire. But such an emotion was doomed to wither on the vine. Despite her unwilling host’s humor, she was not deceived. Her presence at the TCC was tolerated at best.