Snowbound Suspicion. Cindi Myers
women have been murdered so far—one right here on the ranch.” He popped a grape in his mouth and crunched down on it. “Be careful if you go anywhere by yourself.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I’m surprised Lacy didn’t mention it to you, but then, maybe she didn’t want to frighten you away.”
She met his gaze with a hard look of her own. “I don’t frighten easily, Marshal Rankin.”
“Aw, call me Cody. We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other these next two weeks.” He popped another grape in his mouth and crunched. “Now that you’ve arrived, the time here is going to be a lot less dull.”
And just what did he mean by that? “I came here to work,” she said. Not only had Lacy hired her to cater for the wedding, she was also preparing food for a bridesmaids’ tea and the rehearsal dinner.
“If you need a sous chef, I’m your man.” He straightened. “Seriously, I’m bored out of my gourd, with Travis working all the time. I’m not used to being this idle. My job is pretty intense, high-energy stuff—pursuing fugitives, most of whom don’t want to be caught.”
Bette was well aware of what US marshals did—she wasn’t likely to ever forget being tackled by one and dragged, handcuffed, into a waiting car. How long into her visit to the ranch before Cody Rankin figured out her history? One phone call to his office was all it would take to get the whole sordid tale. Or he could just ask his friend Travis. Bette assumed Lacy had told her fiancé about her background. Yet he had agreed to let her come to his home and cater his wedding anyway. Now, that was true love.
A door at the opposite end of the room opened, ushering in a blast of cold air and a tall, angular woman wrapped in a blue wool coat. She stopped short upon seeing them. “Marshal Rankin.” She nodded to Cody, then her bird-like eyes shifted to Bette. “Who are you?”
“I’m the caterer—Bette Fuller.” Bette started around the island toward the woman, but the woman took a step back.
“I’m Rainey,” she said. “And I’m in charge of the kitchen here. I told Travis he didn’t need to hire a caterer. I’m perfectly capable of providing anything they need in the way of food—I’ve been doing it for years. But I guess brides these days want to be able to say they’ve had their wedding ‘catered’ by a ‘chef.’” She sniffed. “Just stay out of my way when it comes to preparing regular meals. I have all the help I need from my son.” She looked back over her shoulder. “Doug! Come in here!”
A man Bette judged to be in his late twenties or early thirties, his head engulfed in a fur cap with earflaps, shuffled into the kitchen, half a dozen plastic shopping bags suspended from each hand. He stopped short when he saw Bette. “Hello,” he said, his eyes meeting hers, then darting away.
“This is my son, Doug,” Rainey said. “He’s been to culinary school and plans to open his own restaurant soon, though for the time being he’s helping me here at the ranch. The two of us could have provided anything the Walkers need for the wedding.”
Well, Bette certainly didn’t have to wonder what Rainey thought about her being here. “I’ll try to stay out of your way,” she said. “I have some things that need to go in the refrigerator.” She indicated the cooler.
“Not in here. Put them in the other refrigerator, in the garage.” She jerked her head toward a door at the side of the room. “Doug, show her where to put her stuff.”
But Doug had disappeared, the back door slamming behind him.
“I’ll show you.” Cody shrugged back into his duster, then picked up the cooler. “Nice seeing you again, Rainey,” he called over his shoulder. “That omelet you made me for breakfast was divine.”
Bette said nothing until they were in the garage, in front of an older-model—but still very high-end—refrigerator. She opened the door and surveyed the contents, which appeared to consist mostly of bottles of beer and a large cardboard box labeled Venison Sticks. Cody reached past her and helped himself to one of the sticks, which resembled a very thin frankfurter. “These are excellent,” he said, tearing open the wrapper. “Travis’s dad makes them, from venison he harvests himself.”
Bette nodded and rearranged some of the beer bottles to make room for her chocolate and fondant. “I can see dealing with Rainey is going to be a barrel of laughs.”
“Ignore her.” Cody held the top of the cooler open for her. “Lacy and Travis want you here, and that’s all that matters.”
“Oh, I won’t let her get to me,” Bette said. “I’ve dealt with worse.” Some of the guards at the Denver Women’s Correctional Facility would have made Rainey look like a creampuff. She stowed the last of the items in the refrigerator and shut the door. “Are Mr. and Mrs. Walker around? I’d like to find out where I’m staying.”
“They headed to Junction while the pass is open,” Cody said. “Rainey might know.” He looked doubtful.
Bette laughed. “If it was up to her, she’d put me in a horse stall or something.” She shut the lid of the cooler. “No, I can wait until Lacy shows up.”
She started to pick up the empty cooler, but Cody swiped it from her. She shrugged. If he wanted to tote her belongings for her, let him. It didn’t mean she owed him anything.
Instead of heading back into the kitchen, he led the way out of the garage and around to the front of the house. “Okay if I leave the cooler out here?” he asked, indicating a spot on the covered front porch near the door.
“That’s fine.” She started to open the door but stilled at the sound of a car approaching. A red Jeep zipped into a parking place near the house. The driver’s door flew open and Lacy Milligan, her dark hair in short layers around her face and topped by a pink fleece cap with an oversize pom-pom like the tail of a rabbit, her petite frame wrapped in a white puffy coat that reached to the top of her fur-trimmed boots, raced toward them, arms outstretched.
“Bette!” Lacy squealed and grabbed her friend in a crushing hug. “Oh, it’s so good to see you! How have you been? Was the drive from Denver horrible? Oh, let me look at you.” She released her hold on Bette and took a step back. “You look fantastic. Oh, I’m so glad you’re here.”
“You look great yourself,” Bette said. She couldn’t stop grinning. Just being with Lacy again made her happy.
“I’ve been trying to make her feel welcome.” Cody spoke up from his spot just behind Bette.
“Thank you, Cody,” Lacy nodded to him, then turned back to Bette. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived. With the wedding less than three weeks away things are absolutely crazy. And with the road being closed and Travis working so much—I swear, I’m going to need a vacation when this is over.”
She took Bette’s arm and ushered her into the house. “I’m going to head over to the stables, if anyone needs me,” Cody said, but Bette doubted Lacy heard. She was chattering away about the wedding preparations and the snow and Travis and who knew what else. Bette glanced behind her to watch Cody exit, his duster slung over one arm.
“Leave it to you to make friends with the best-looking single man in the place.” Lacy nudged Bette. “It’s a good thing you weren’t around when I reconnected with Travis. He wouldn’t have looked twice at me.”
“I’m not interested in catching the eye of any man,” Bette said. “That’s how I got into so much trouble in the first place, remember?”
Lacy’s expression clouded. “You don’t hear from Eddie anymore, do you?”
Bette shook her head. “No. And I hope I never do.” Hooking up with Eddie Rialto had been the absolute worst decision she had ever made in her life. “I’m staying happily single from now on.”
“Oh, men aren’t all bad,” Lacy said. “You just have to