Greer summoned a smile. “I’m about to meet a lot of people I’ve not seen in years.”
Jo studied cars parking outside and the people exiting the vehicles. “They don’t look so scary to me.”
“No?”
Jo leaned forward so only Greer could hear. “Imagine they’re all naked.”
Greer laughed, despite her anxiety. “Okay.”
“Do you want me to hang around?”
“No.” Greer appreciated the offer. “Thanks. But this is something I have to do.” The first guest to arrive at the front door was Mrs. Mark Johnson. She had been a friend of her parents’ and had played doubles tennis with her mother over the years. “Excuse me?”
“Of course.”
Greer moistened her lips, and though she shifted her stance, she did not retreat. “Welcome.”
Mrs. Johnson’s black linen dress set off her tall lean frame, her silver jewelry, and her blond hair. Her ultrasmooth skin was a testimony to her favorite plastic surgeon. “Elizabeth?”
Greer extended her hand. “How are you, Mrs. Johnson?”
Mrs. Johnson studied Greer, boldly absorbing every detail. Cool fingers slipped around Greer’s callused palm. “It’s been a long time.”
“Yes, a long time.”
“When I saw your name on the invitation I just about fell over. Your mother led me to believe you’d moved to Europe.”
That didn’t surprise her. “No. I’ve been here all the time.”
“I called your mother, but she didn’t get back to me. She’s been traveling.”
Avoiding the questions. “No doubt.”
“I had to do a little digging to find out you’ve been here working with your aunt.”
“That’s right.” More guests were arriving out front and judging by the collection of cars the evening would be a crush. She teetered between cringing and celebrating.
Mrs. Johnson didn’t notice anyone but Greer. “I have so many questions for you. But let’s start with that dead man they found by your property. I heard he was David Edwards’s brother.”
Greer smiled, determined to be calm. Breathe. “So they say. Why don’t you come inside and have a glass of wine.”
A line of people formed behind Mrs. Johnson but again she didn’t notice. She caught the gaze of her neighbor Louis. He tossed her a warm grin, and she couldn’t help but relax a little.
Louis moved toward her, his long lean body accentuated by his dark trousers and dark shirt. “You look like you’re holding up well.”
“So far so good.” Not exactly a lie.
He grinned at several older ladies who were staring at her. They looked away. “Keep up the good work. I’m excited to introduce our wines tonight.”
Louis had purchased the property next to Bonneville but also owned other land in the Hill Country where he made the wine using Bonneville grapes. “They should be a huge hit.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’m headed in. Holler if you need me.”
Despite nerves chewing at her, she was determined to do this well. “Right.”
She remained at the door greeting guests for at least another hour. With the sound of each new car, she expected her mother, but she never came.
She fielded more questions than she wanted to about herself. I remember Jeff. Such a handsome man. How old would he be now? And Sydney, such a stunning girl. A perfect couple. You must miss him.
After a while, she found she could distance herself from the story, as if she were recounting another’s life. The wounds weren’t hers. The losses belonged to someone else. Later she imagined there’d be an emotional price to pay when it was quiet and the emotions rushed back over the barriers. But for now she was getting by and that was good enough.
The tasting room was all but filled by seven, the guests laughing and enjoying themselves. She could tell the wines were a hit, and judging by the caterer’s table, so was the food.
She slipped out the front door, needing to get away from subtle and not-so-subtle stares and whispers. She looks good. Reminds me of her brother more than ever. She was here the whole time? She must think of Jeffrey. Did you notice the scar on her arm? And those bracelets. I think they’re engraved with their names.
The heat, which still tipped the thermometer at ninety-nine, would allow only a quick respite, but a little break was better than none. The night air was fresh, not heavy, and the sky filled with stars. In the distance a coyote howled.
The crunch of tire against gravel had her turning toward a dusty, black SUV. A tall man with a white Stetson climbed out and she immediately recognized Ranger Winchester, Jo’s husband. Not Bragg. Relief rushed over her like a burst of cold air.
The Ranger settled his hat on his head and moved toward the tasting room with a quick impatient stride. She’d noticed the way he watched Jo, lean, hungry, impatient, as if he could barely keep his hands off his wife. He adored her.
She opened the door for him. “Welcome, Ranger Winchester.”
He glanced at her and grinned. “Ms. Templeton. Good evening. I’m guessing my better half has paved the way for me.”
His easy smile had her relaxing as she extended her hand. “She has sung your praises.”
He took her hand. “So I hear you’re the one throwing the party tonight.”
“I’m one of many players.” She glanced inside toward Jo who laughed with a young couple. “Your wife knows everyone.”
“That’s my Jo.” He glanced beyond her as if trying to glimpse his wife.
“I’ve seen her glancing toward the door. I think she’s been waiting for you. Glad you could make it.”
He winked. “She’s the only one slippery enough to rope me into one of these parties. No offense.”
“None taken.” He must be aware of Rory’s murder. The Rangers were a small, elite group. For a moment she stood tense, waiting for a question. When none came to breach the growing silence, she was tempted to ask him about Bragg, but quickly decided that could lead to trouble. “The food is worth the crowd.”
“Well, seeing as I never say no to food, I’ll dive into the hornet’s nest. Wish me luck.”
“Luck.” When he vanished into the building, she thought for a moment the evening would end without any great drama. She might walk away in one piece and sane.
The crunch of boots against gravel had her turning and wondering why she’d not heard another car drive up. She saw Bragg making his way up the drive straight toward her.
Chapter Ten
Wednesday, June 4, 8 P.M.
He stood tall, his white Stetson settled squarely on top of his head. He wore dark pants, a white shirt, a string tie, and black snakeskin boots. Whereas Winchester moved with impatience, Bragg’s stride radiated caution.
She rubbed suddenly damp palms together and then forced herself to relax. “Ranger Bragg, I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”
Surprise, and then a hint of appreciation flickered from his gaze as he reconciled her voice with her appearance. She allowed pride and was glad to know she could still garner appreciation. There’d been a time when she’d lived to turn a man’s head. She’d spent hours primping and pampering. If this had been twelve years ago, she’d have considered herself severely underdressed.
He moved to within inches of her. Soap mingled with a masculine scent. “Ranger Winchester told me about it. I hear his wife was talking this party up.”
“I’m glad you could join us.”
He arched a brow. “Are you?”
“Of course.” Tempted to take a step back, she stood her ground. The scar on his face caught her attention before she wrestled it free
. “We’ve a nice Merlot and a Chardonnay at the bar.”
If he sensed her nerves, he wasn’t inclined to ease them. “Afraid I’m more of a beer man.”
His tone was light and easy but the idea of relaxing around him was downright foolish. Even sleeping rattlers were dangerous snakes. “Tell the bartender. We’ve several local beers behind the bar as well.”
“A vineyard owner drinks beer?”
“We can be quite the beer drinkers.” She extended her arm toward the tasting room. She wanted to shoo him into the tasting room far away from her. “The food’s also delicious.”
Instead of leaving, he held his ground, but his gaze moved to the party. “You got a lot of fancy folks in there.”
“They dress up well, but they’re exactly like the rest of us.”
“First time you’ve seen a lot of these folks in a while?”
He’d been asking around about her. “That’s right.”
“How’s it going?”
“About as well as you could expect. I’m sure my ears will be burning for a week or two and then people will forget about me. I’m the flavor of the week.”
“I doubt they’ll forget you.” An edge sharpened his words.
Her heart beat faster. “You overestimate me.”
“Rory Edwards didn’t forget you.”
The statement hit her square in the chest like a one-two punch. “No, he did not. Have you found out what happened to Rory?”
“Still working on it. His brother didn’t have many nice words to say about you.”
“No, I don’t suppose David did.” The last time she’d spoken to David was when she’d shown up at Rory’s house. Her aunt had driven her there right after she’d left Shady Grove. David had answered the door. She couldn’t remember the entire conversation, but it ended along the lines of: they didn’t need her kind of trouble. “I was young and very upset the last time I spoke to him.”