Stranger in My House (A Murder In Texas) by Mari Manning Read Free Book Online Page B

Frankie would feel about doing that. So if this was the same Frankie who’d taken off a few days ago, he was about to get a shit storm of indignation. OMG! I would never touch anything of hers.
    Instead he got a rueful grin. “Miss Bea might mind. She doesn’t like me much.”
    Hot damn.
    His hand shook as he patted Manny’s shoulder. “Can you get those old boots out of Miss Bea’s tack box? And saddle the horses.” He’d do it himself, but he was not leaving Frankie’s side. At least not until he figured out what she was up to.
    When the horses were saddled, Seth eyed Frankie. “Feeling up to riding Old Tom? He’s a little headstrong this morning. Might be too much for you.” He was flying close to the sun on this, but Frankie was up to something.
    Frankie patted Old Tom’s withers. “What do you say?” The bay snorted and pawed the dirt. Then, sliding a boot into the stirrup, she mounted him in one graceful move, her slender leg flying over Old Tom’s back and her trim bottom slipping into the saddle before Seth’s disbelieving eyes.
    Amazing. Apparently Manny thought so, too. Behind his thick glasses, he was round eyed and startled.
    Seth swung onto Darby. “You want to head to the ridge?”
    Frankie eyed him. “If you don’t have an objection.”
    “None at all.”
    He guided Darcy into the wide path of grass and clover between the lavender fields. Frankie fell into step beside him, and a deeply irrational sense of well-being washed over him. Miss Bea had skinned him alive twice in one morning. A new record. A new low.
    So why the hell was he feeling so mellow?
    The scent of lavender floated in the warm air. The grayish-purple wands dipped and rolled like waves. Frankie took a deep, noisy sniff. “Hmm. Smells good.”
    “Sure.”
    “Must have been hard for you when my cousin sold the cattle and took up farming.”
    He glanced at her, expecting to see mocking, catlike eyes, but instead he was met with curiosity. Or was it interest? “I guess. Not exactly what I expected when I came here.”
    “What did you expect?”
    He shrugged. What did she think he’d expected? “A working ranch. A herd of steers from here to the horizon. Beefsteak for dinner. Whiskey for dessert.”
    She burst out laughing, and he almost laughed, too.
    A comfortable silence settled over them, and he slipped back a pace so he could study the new Frankie. Her cat eyes didn’t seem so damned spooky this morning. His gaze lingered on strong cheekbones, golden skin, the gentle puff of pink lips. A breeze lifted. Long, black hair unfurled, gleaming like jet.
    This girl couldn’t be Frankie. It wasn’t just the horse business. It was the way she acted, asking questions all the time and looking startled when Miss Bea went off on her. Sure, she knew a lot about the house and him and the workings of the ranch. And sometimes she’d tilt her head just like Frankie and do Frankie’s Beyoncé strut, but not all the time.
    So if she looked like Frankie and talked like Frankie and knew about Frankie’s life, but wasn’t Frankie, who the hell was she? Besides Frankie’s doppelgänger. He should be alarmed, wary even. But instead he felt as if he’d finally turned a corner.
    They reached the last row of lavender. Ahead was the narrow trail up the ridge.
    Doppel-Frankie stirred. “Manny said someone drowned up there.” She was studying him again.
    “A year ago last spring.”
    “How did you find him?”
    He tried to recall when it had happened. Whether Frankie and Charleen had descended on the ranch by then. He couldn’t recall. “The kid’s family came to the house. Claimed their son had gone hiking on the ridge and didn’t come back. Mr. Shaw sent me up to take a look around. He’d floated to the surface by then, so that was that.”
    “Did you call the police?”
    He’d have fallen off his horse with surprise if he hadn’t already decided this girl was not Frankie. Frankie wouldn’t have asked him if he called the