Matt—The Callahan Brothers (Brazos Bend Book 2) by Emily March Page A

isn’t he? Trying to make you feel sorry for him. Trying to worm his way back into your life. He’s been halfway successful with Luke. Don’t you dare let him do the same thing to you.”
    “He’s bought a lapdog, Mark. A lapdog! He’s an old man with a bad hip, a cane, and a purse pet. I can’t help but think that one of these days he’s going to drop dead and ...”
    “And what? None of us will be there to cry over his corpse? Serves him right.”
    Matt shut his eyes. Frustration made his voice tight. “Let’s not talk about Branch. Do you have information for me?”
    Mark Callahan paused a moment before laughing softly. Hearing it, Matt knew he wasn’t going to like what he heard.
    “Your bird hasn’t used her credit card since leaving California. However, she did buy a milk shake at the Dairy Princess, and she asked Kathy to recommend a good place to stay.”
    Matt closed his eyes. “A place to stay?”
    “She’s checked into Cottonwood Cottage Bed and Breakfast. She’s rented a room for a week.”
    “You lie.”
    “I called Kathy Hudson to get an accurate view of what was happening in Brazos Bend.”
    The owner of the Dairy Princess was the pulse of Brazos Bend. If Kathy said it, it was true. Torie Bradshaw was still in town.
    Matt dropped his chin and banged his head on the steering wheel. Maybe he should have defected to the Russians when they asked.

Chapter Six
    Torie stood at the second-floor bedroom window and gazed with delight at the scene taking place along the roadside across from Cottonwood Cottage B and B. On this beautiful spring evening with the sky painted a dusty rose, three couples had plunked their young children and toddlers into the ocean of blooming bluebonnets to pose for photographs. Her artist’s eye framed the shots she’d take, and driven by an urge to escape into innocence, she grabbed both her camera bag and her dog and headed downstairs.
    “Ms. Bradshaw?” the B and B’s manager called out. “I’m sorry, but I forgot to return your driver’s license when you checked in.” Giving a little laugh, she added, “All that cash distracted me. I can’t recall the last time a guest paid their bill in cash.”
    “No problem.” Torie pocketed the license, then explained with a smile, “I’m weaning myself off credit cards. I learned they can be evil things.”
    It was the same excuse she’d used as she traveled across the country. She’d made it a point to stay at independently owned bed-and-breakfasts. They all asked to see identification at check-in, but she’d decided the risk of using her own name was minimal, since it wouldn’t go in any database. Besides, she’d signed everything “Vicky Bradshaw”—a name she’d never used in her life.
    It was a decent compromise, she decided, and since she’d had no false identity documents lying around, she hadn’t exactly had a choice.
    Outside, she captured some great candid shots of Mom and Dad trying to pose their squiggling kids. After deflecting some suspicious stares by focusing on Gigi as a model—the sweet pea was such a ham—she got the shots she wanted when a towheaded toddler decided playing with a puppy was more fun than sitting still.
    The boy’s parents introduced themselves as Janice and David Williams. Torie responded, naming herself Vicky Bradshaw. “Ryan is our first,” the young mother told Torie. “My plan is to take a bluebonnet picture every year until he graduates high school. I want a collage that’s a little different from the usual school pictures.”
    “That’s a great idea.” Torie grinned at the playful boy and tail-wagging dog, grateful that Gigi was tolerant of children. When the boy dropped down on his diapered behind and Gigi climbed into his lap and laved his giggling face with her own brand of kisses, Torie shifted into professional mode, excited by what she was seeing in her camera lens.
    “You look like you know your way around that fancy camera,” David Williams