That claim was meant to rile him, and it did. His eyes glittered dangerously. She tried to make a clean getaway, but he snagged her hand as she whirled around. Before she knew it, he’d hauled her into his lap.
“Let me up,” she demanded, shoving ineffectively at his chest.
“Not till you admit I’m right,” he said, a teasing sparkle replacing the fury that had put fire in his eyes only seconds earlier. “Not till you admit you need me.”
“When hell freezes over,” she retorted.
“Admit it,” he commanded.
“Never.”
“Say it or I will...” His gaze clashed with hers, held. The silence built. Tension shimmered in the air.
“Or you will what?” she asked, her voice suddenly shaky.
“This,” he whispered just before his mouth claimed hers.
His fingers tangled in her hair as he coaxed her lips apart. His tongue dipped, tasted, savored. Then hers did the same. The kiss stirred her blood, stirred memories. He tasted of coffee and just a hint of maple syrup. Laurie rocked back in his lap and grinned.
“Your mama made you waffles this morning, didn’t she?”
“What if she did?”
“The woman spoils you rotten. No wonder you’re so impossible.”
“I’m not impossible, darlin’.” He shifted her ever so slightly so she could feel the hard shaft of his arousal. “When I’m with you, I am always very, very possible.”
She sighed and buried her face against his shoulder, relaxing into the wondrous sensation of having his arms tight around her again. Last night, walking into her mother’s house again after being away for so long, had been incredible, but this? This was what it felt like to come home.
“Oh, Harlan Patrick,” she murmured. “If only everything were as easy as you make it sound.”
“It’s as easy or as complicated as we make it.”
“Then why do we insist on making it so complicated?”
“Damned if I know,” he said ruefully. “Maybe that’s just how it has to be, so we’ll appreciate what we have when we finally work it out.”
She pulled back and gazed into his eyes. “I hope you’re right. I really do.”
He smoothed her hair back from her face and smiled, a sad, wistful little smile. “I hope so, too, Laurie. I truly do.”
Nine
A knot of dread formed in Laurie’s stomach as they got closer and closer to White Pines. Once this ranch had been like a second home to her. She and Harlan Patrick had explored every acre of it on daylong horseback rides and picnics. She’d been welcome at family gatherings, included on special occasions, all because everyone had assumed that one day she and Harlan Patrick would marry.
She wondered what they thought of her now. Oh, she knew what Harlan Patrick had told her, that everyone, including his grandfather, cared only that she’d given him a daughter. That might be what they told him, but she had little doubt that resentment would be simmering below the surface. How could it not be? He was an Adams, and she had betrayed him.
Hands clenched, she stared out at the rugged, familiar terrain and tried to see the beauty in it that Harlan Patrick saw, tried to feel the same connection to the land. All she felt was uneasiness and the same restless urge to wander that had driven her away from Texas years ago.
As much as she loved the people here—as much as she loved one particular person here—it hadn’t been enough. She had desperately wanted a singing career. She had needed to be somebody, on her own, not just because she married into the wealthiest family in town. Marrying a man like Harlan Patrick would have been blind luck, not an accomplishment she could claim.
“You okay?” Harlan Patrick asked, giving her a sideways glance as he turned into the long driveway leading up to the sprawling house that had been built as a replica of the home his Southern ancestors had lost in the Civil War, then recreated after moving west.
“Sure.”
As if he could read her mind, he said quietly, “Nobody here hates you, Laurie.”
“Then why do I feel as if I’m on my way to my own hanging?”
“Don’t go blaming me for that,” he said less sympathetically. “I’m not accountable for whatever guilty thoughts you’re having.”
She scowled. “I have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about.”
“Then stop agonizing over what’s to come. You’re going to visit a few old friends, show off our beautiful daughter. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is that I kept Amy Lynn from you. Don’t you think I know how that will make me look in everyone’s eyes, especially your sister’s? Sharon Lynn and I were friends once, but when I walked out on you, it changed things between us. This will only make the tension worse.”
He braked to a stop on a curve in the lane and faced her. “The only person whose opinion really matters here is me, Laurie.”
“Okay, then,” she said, accepting the truth of that. “What about you? Have you forgiven me?”
He hesitated at the direct question, then sighed. “No, but I’m working on it.”
That sinking sensation returned to the pit of her stomach. “Thanks. That really helped,” she said sarcastically.
He reached over and touched her cheek. “I love you just the same as I always did. The rest will come.”
In the back seat, Val cleared her throat loudly. “Excuse me for interrupting, you two.”
“What?” Laurie and Harlan Patrick asked in a startled chorus.
“Don’t look now, but there are several huge beasts ambling this way. Is that significant?”
Harlan Patrick glanced in the direction Val indicated and chuckled. “They’re just cows coming to see what’s going on over here. They’re hoping we might be planning to drop some feed over the fence.”
“And if we don’t?” Val asked, eying them warily.
“They’ll wander away.”
“No retaliation? No stampede?”
Laurie laughed at her assistant’s vivid imagination. “You almost sound disappointed. Were you hoping for a tale of danger you could repeat all over Nashville?”
“Sure,” Val said with a nervous chuckle. “It would be great publicity, you know.” She paused, her expression thoughtful, then added, “As long as you don’t get trampled.”
“Yeah,” Laurie said dryly. “That would be a bummer.”
“Everybody settled down and ready to move on now?” Harlan Patrick asked.
“More than ready,” Val replied.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Laurie said grimly.
In the back Amy Lynn gurgled and waved her tattered stuffed bear in enthusiastic agreement.
“I guess that’s everybody, then,” Harlan Patrick said, watching his daughter in the rearview mirror, his expression amused. “Okay, baby girl, let’s go home.”
His tone was lighthearted but the statement was laden with hidden meanings that immediately put Laurie on edge all over again. This was not Amy Lynn’s home. Her home was hundreds of miles away in Nashville. She wondered, though, if there was anything she could say or do to get that through Harlan Patrick’s thick skull.
* * *
Harlan Patrick bypassed the turn that would have taken them to his own home or his parents’ and headed straight for White Pines itself. He’d called his mother from Laurie’s and told her to meet them at the main house. He figured it would be easier on everybody if there was one big welcome, rather than having to go through reunion after reunion, especially when some were bound to be uncomfortable.
Laurie’s obvious case of nerves was beginning to get to him. He suspected even Amy Lynn could sense her mother’s mounting tension. She’d begun fussing just as they reached the house, and nothing Val could do seemed to soothe her.
“I’ll take her,” Laurie said, leaping out the instant he cut the eng
ine. She rushed around to the other side and practically snatched Amy Lynn from her car seat as if she needed to stake her claim before anyone else did.
“Planning to use her as a shield when you enter the enemy camp?” Harlan Patrick inquired lightly.
“I’m trying to get her to settle down,” she countered defensively. “She probably needs changing, and it’s almost lunchtime. We should have waited until another time to do this. I wasn’t thinking.”
“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” he observed.
Her eyes glittered dangerously. “What?”
“Not thinking.”
She frowned. “Don’t you dare do this,” she warned in a low tone. “Don’t you dare try to start something with me just as we’re going in to see your family.”
Was that what he’d been doing? More than likely, he was forced to admit. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make this any more difficult.” He reached for the baby. “Let me carry her. She’s too heavy for you.”
Laurie held Amy Lynn a little tighter. “She’s fine.”
“Okay, then, let’s go. Val, you all set?” he asked as she lagged behind them.
“I think maybe I should stay out here for a bit, maybe take a walk. I don’t belong in there right now.”
“Of course you belong,” Laurie said at once. “You’re my friend.”
“And mine, too, I hope,” Harlan Patrick said. “Though I can understand why you might prefer to stay out of the cross fire. If you’d rather go for a tour, I can get one of the hands to take you around.”
She nodded eagerly at that. “Yes. That would be wonderful.”
“Wait here. I’ll see who’s around.”
As he headed for the stables, he saw the newest hire bringing a horse into the paddock. Slade Sutton was an embittered ex–rodeo star, barely into his thirties, who’d been brought aboard to work with the horses and to start a breeding program. With his taciturn demeanor Sutton wouldn’t have been his first choice for tour guide, but Harlan Patrick suspected his choices were going to be limited at this time of day.
“Hey, Slade, you got a minute?”
The no-nonsense man scowled predictably at the interruption and limped over. “Just about that. No more.”
“I need you to do something for me,” Harlan Patrick said, ignoring the man’s testiness and his obvious reluctance to be drawn into any task that didn’t involve the horses.
“What’s that?”
“I’ve got a real tenderfoot out here who needs a tour. I wouldn’t ask except the next hour or so is going to be tense inside and there’s no need for her to be a part of that.”
Slade’s scowl deepened. “You didn’t hire me to play tour guide. I’ve got horses to work with.”
“Then let her watch. She’ll be content with that, as long as you manage to throw a smile her way every now and again, along with an explanation of what you’re up to. I’d be grateful if you’d help me out.”
He walked off to get Val before the man could protest again. When he came back with her in tow, Slade didn’t even bother to look up from his work until Harlan Patrick called his name insistently.
“Slade Sutton, this is Val Harding. She’s Laurie Jensen’s assistant.”
There was a brief flicker of recognition and surprise at the mention of Laurie’s name, but no more. Slade tipped his hat and went back to using his pick to clean the caked-up dirt in the horse’s shoe.
“Slade doesn’t say much, but most of what he does say is profound,” Harlan Patrick told her, drawing a sour look from the man in question. “I’ll be back for you when the fireworks are over.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Val assured him, proving that she would rather be any place on earth than inside White Pines. She sent a beaming smile toward Slade. “I’m sure Mr. Sutton and I will get along very well.”
Harlan Patrick was pretty sure he heard Slade mutter a contradictory response under his breath, but he let it pass. As cantankerous as he knew the man to be, he also knew he would never be overtly rude to a woman. Silent, maybe, difficult definitely, but not rude. Sutton prided himself on being a cowboy through and through, and basic courtesy was ingrained. It might be interesting to see how the ever cheerful Val handled him, but unfortunately he couldn’t stick around to watch. He had his own awkward situation to deal with.
Naturally, by the time he walked back to the front of the house, everyone had poured into the yard and Laurie and his daughter were surrounded. She might have feared being cast as the bad guy, but at the moment she appeared more in danger of being smothered by eager Adamses, anxious to get a look at the newest addition.
“Hey, give the woman some room,” Harlan Patrick called out. “Otherwise, she’ll make a break for it the first chance she gets.”
There was more truth than jest in his words, and everyone there seemed to know it. They backed off instantly, everyone except his grandfather. He stood his ground, his gaze on the little girl in Laurie’s arms.
“She has Adams eyes,” he noted with pride. “And an Adams chin.” He held out his arms. “May I?”
Laurie never hesitated. “Of course. Sweetie, this is your great-grandpa Harlan,” she said as she handed the baby over.
“Oh, darlin’ girl, I’ll bet you are a handful,” Grandpa Harlan said with tears shimmering in his eyes. “Come along with me and I’ll tell you all about being an Adams, then I’ll explain how I’m going to go about spoiling you rotten.”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Harlan Patrick’s father contradicted, all but snatching the baby out of his arms. “That’s my job now.”
“Don’t fight over her,” Janet chided her husband and stepson. “Honestly, you’d think the men in this family had never had an heir before, the way they carry on over every baby.”
“You’re just mad ’cause you’re not getting a turn to fuss over her,” Grandpa Harlan retorted, linking arms with his wife. “Come on, everybody. Let’s go inside, so we can be comfortable.”
Laurie hung back as the others climbed the steps. Harlan Patrick lingered beside her.
“Feeling better now?”
She gazed up at him, and to his amazement there were unshed tears welling up in her eyes. “They love her,” she whispered. “Just like that, she’s one of them.”
“Well, of course she is. No matter how things stand between you and me, she’s my daughter. Did you think for one second they wouldn’t accept her?”
“No, but...” Her voice trailed off, and she looked away.
“But what about you?” Harlan Patrick suggested quietly. “Is that what you were going to say?”
She nodded. “They barely even looked at me.”
“Darlin’, that’s not a reflection on you. Haven’t you been around this family long enough to know that any new baby stirs everybody up? The mom and dad tend to get lost in the shuffle until the novelty wears off. Would you have preferred it if they’d laid into you right off for hiding Amy Lynn away these past months?”
“No, of course not.”
“Well, then, be grateful to our little girl for taking the heat off us for the moment.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I know I am. Once the questions start, you’re going to wish they were back to ignoring you.”
She managed a shaky smile at the reminder. “I know you’re right about that. By the way, how’s Val?”
“I left her with an ex–rodeo star.”
Laurie grinned. “That ought to make her day.”
“It might if he ever says more than two words to her. Slade’s not the talkative type.”
“That’s okay,” she said with a grin. “Val is. She’ll have his life story out of him before he can blink.”
“Now, that would be worth paying to see. He’s been here two months and none of us knows more than his rodeo history and his wa
y with horses.”
“We could sneak around back and watch,” Laurie suggested, gazing wistfully in that direction.
“Oh, no, you don’t. We belong inside, and inside is where we’re going.” He captured her hand in his and found it icy cold. “Still nervous?”
“Wouldn’t you be if you had to face the inquisition I do?”
“I do have to face the inquisition you do,” he reminded her. “I’m not off the hook here, sweetheart. I do know one thing that might take your mind off of it, though.”
“What’s that?” she asked suspiciously.
“This.”
He lowered his head and settled his mouth across hers. If the kiss earlier had stirred temptation, this one set off skyrockets. Nothing on earth could fire his blood the way the simple touch of Laurie’s lips could. The woman’s mouth was magic, soft as satin and clever as the dickens. She could turn a nothing little kiss into pure sin.
By the time the kiss ended, he was sucking in great gulps of air and trying to ease the pressure of denim on a very sensitive part of his anatomy. Every shift in movement, though, was torture.
“I want you so bad, my whole body aches with it,” he murmured against her ear as he held her loosely in his arms. “Maybe we could sneak away to my place.”
“Not five seconds ago you were insisting we had to go inside,” she reminded him.
“That was before.”
“Before what?”
“Before I remembered what it was like to feel you up against me. You could drive a man crazy.”
“And that’s a good thing?” she asked doubtfully.
“Oh, yeah, that is a very good thing.”
“You were singing a different tune when you showed up in Montana. Chasing after me drove you crazy, and you weren’t one bit happy about that.”
“We’re talking about two very different things here.”
“Lust being one,” she guessed. “And the other?”
West Texas Nights Page 11