Of course, Axel had always won. He was taller and a hard-packed muscular, ranch-hewn cowboy. For a moment regret filtered through August that he’d exercised his brain more than his brawn. Spent more time in robotics and computer coding than herding cattle, branding, repairing fences.
It’s not too late.
August waited for Axel’s next move. He was itching for a fight—at least a verbal one. Anything was better than Axel’s quiet distance and indifference.
“You really want to go that route?” Axel demanded.
Hell no! Bill Clemmens and his sons would be the last people he’d hire. The last! And if Axel would use his brain, he’d know Cat wouldn’t want them close either. But he wasn’t going to say that in front of Cat.
“We haven’t made any final hiring decisions,” he said diplomatically, and nearly choked on the flare of anger in Axel’s eyes and the shock in Cat’s. How could one simple statement impact two people he loved so differently.
Loved.
He loved Cat.
Of course he did, but he hadn’t thought about it like that exactly. Love had always seemed like an ethereal, abstract something he ignored and shied away from when his friends and colleagues fell in love and got all stupid and goofy and inefficient.
Cat had been his best friend. Someone he trusted. She had the power to irritate and soothe and amuse him in the span of one conversation. And she lit him on fire. He could still feel the imprint of her mouth and her body on his from the other morning. And he wanted more. Much more.
Axel sucked in a breath.
“Your eyes are all goofy. I thought the doc said you didn’t have a concussion.”
Damn. The last thing he needed was Axel or Cat reading his mind. He’d have to hand in his man card and balls at the door.
“I don’t. You’re just bossy and pissing me off.”
“We’ll talk about this tonight.” Axel’s voice held a warning. “And if you are determined to be so nepotistic,” Axel said, shooting Cat a dark look that made both him and Cat bristle, “I am not going to be so easygoing, and since the house is on my part of the ranch—thanks for the remodel, by the way—you’d better get the upstairs apartment—” Axel’s eyes flicked up to the hole in the ceiling “—fixed fast. Or better yet, your father has a rental property available. No water or electric anymore, but hey, maybe he’ll give you the family discount.”
Axel stalked across the room—there was no other way to describe it—and jammed his Stetson down on his head like he’d just planned to meet him on Main Street, pistols drawn at high noon. And then he walked out the door.
*
“I know he’s your brother, but I really hate him,” Cat ground out through teeth so tight she felt like they’d snap. “And while he was hurling his opinions and ultimatums like thunderbolts, he could have at least asked me if I planned to hire my brother, but no, not Axel.”
“He’s a dick sometimes,” August said cheerfully.
She looked at him a little shocked. She couldn’t disagree with that assessment, but August looked amused. Usually when he argued with Axel, he was angry—his defense against the hurt.
“Why aren’t you mad?” she demanded. “He practically threatened to kick you out of your own house.”
“Yeah, but he won’t. I mean you aren’t really thinking of hiring either of your brothers, are you?”
“Of course not!” she practically shouted. “They just showed up here like I have a microchip that alerts them when I’m in town. And then Bo started opening wine and drinking from the bottle and spitting it out and complaining about the taste like he knows anything at all about wine. And he’d been chewing tobacco right before so yeah, our wine’s bad. And then my dad comes in—”
Okay, she probably didn’t need to go into all that much detail. Sure, he’d made threats and pumped himself up, but she wasn’t stupid, and she wasn’t a little lost girl missing her mommy and longing for love and belonging from her daddy and big brothers anymore.
August grinned at her. “Maybe Bo was on to something.”
“Pretty sure he never is.”
August laughed and then prowled over to the stacks of wine. “We’ll send some of the hands to pick up what we can’t carry to the house. I don’t trust your dad or brothers to not come back tonight and abscond with the rest.”
Cat was finding it hard to swallow and her eyes stung. Stupid tears. She blinked furiously. August had believed in her. Axel had assumed the worst, but August—coming in to the middle of an argument, well, more like an inquisition, and likely having seen Bo muscle his way out the door with two cases of wine—had come to her defense and backed her all the way.
Just like he used to.
“So what’s your fancy?” He looked at the cases. “We have another ten minutes or so until the contractor and city engineer arrive, and I think an insurance rep will try to make it. We might as well enjoy the wait.”
Cat smiled through hurt lips, her world feeling right again.
“Let’s open a red,” she deadpanned.
“Funny,” he muttered.
“Surprise me. No. Test me,” she said.
August’s smile grew a little wicked, and Catalina felt an answering heat that she didn’t try to squelch this time. She saw there was still one side of the back wall that had survived the crash. Bottles were carefully put away along with some wide-rimmed tasting glasses.
She snagged a couple and put them on one of the cases. Then she closed her eyes.
“I’m ready,” she said.
Chapter Nine
Later that night after a swim and dinner where she and Axel pretended to play nice or at least ignore each other without glowering, Cat finished typing the last of her tasting notes into the computer. Axel, Cruz, and Diego had returned to the house after a short lasso lesson for Diego down at the main stable. Diego was still dancing in his socks, swinging a lariat Axel had given him along with a promise of more lessons.
Cruz ducked smoothly as the lariat swung unevenly close to her. She kicked off her boots.
Axel caught the rope. “Never inside and not when people are standing next to you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You did well. You can keep the lariat and practice on the fence posts along the deck away from people after school tomorrow, and I’ll give you a riding lesson and another lariat lesson tomorrow if your mom agrees.”
Diego grinned and nodded, and Catalina had to tear her eyes away from the sweet scene and stare blankly at her computer. Gone was the hard-ass from earlier today. In place was a kind, patient man; but she remembered that about Axel. He’d been so caring of Aurik and Anders. But he and August had continuously clashed—August constantly pushing boundaries and vying for supremacy.
“Hang it on the hook here,” Axel said.
“Quick bath and bedtime, bud,” Cruz said.
“But I—”
“Quick trip down the hall,” Axel interrupted and seized both Diego’s hands and swung him—socks sliding on the polished wood floor—in a wide figure eight shape. He’d done the same thing on the way to the barn.
Diego leaned back and laughed, and Cruz watched, her eyes brimming with an emotion that hurt Catalina to see. It was almost like looking too long into the sun.
August didn’t say anything, but he watched, wineglass in hand, an inscrutable expression on his face.
“Ready, set, go.” Axel pulled him fast down the hall, Diego laughing the whole way.
“Axel used to do that with Aurik and Anders,” August breathed.
Another stab hit her hard. So much loss in his life, in both of their lives. And now here they were again.
“How was the tasting?” Cruz asked. She’d been planning to do it with August and Catalina tonight, but Axel had bailed with Diego and Cruz had, hesitating just a little, joined Axel and her son.
“Take a load off. Try the Malbec.” August poured her a half glass.
Cruz took the glass, swirled the inky liquid around
and around and then breathed in deeply.
“What should I smell?” she asked Catalina.
“What do you smell?”
She sniffed again. “By the way, August, that is not a taste size. You will get everyone at the Bluebonnet Festival smashed out of their minds before the first flight is finished.”
“Didn’t hear you protest,” he said smugly. “And I poured you a glass because I am generous that way. You don’t have to drink it all. Cat spit everything into a red solo cup like a reverse college dorm party. I had a sip of everything and must be out of practice because I feel more than a little buzzed,” he said cheerfully.
“Rule one of pouring: don’t drink the product.” Cruz smiled at Catalina.
“Try it,” she said. “I’ll run you through everything another night with the notes, and spitting is considered professional not gross, but someone did not believe me.”
August raised his hand. “Me,” he admitted as if there were any doubt. “And I’m sore from traipsing all over the vineyard and walking all over the tasting room this afternoon examining all the damage, so I’m going to sober up and chill out in the Jacuzzi.”
Catalina popped to her feet and filled a water bottle.
“Ten minutes and then I’m pulling your ass out.”
“You’re so sexy and romantic,” he muttered.
He tried to kiss her, but she dodged and shoved the water bottle into his hands.
“Drink and go soak your head while you’re at it,” she said striving to sound cheeky instead of shrewish. “I’m going to finish up.”
She needed to get out of the living room before Axel returned. She didn’t have the energy for another round with him, and she definitely didn’t want to watch him stare at Cruz like she was a sizzling rare steak, and he was famished. All her life she’d wanted to belong and to be loved. Being this close to even a whisper of a promise of family and August again was gutting her.
So much longing rose up. And hope. The hope she’d been trying to crush out since she lost her baby, but then she’d given August another chance, and that had hurt in a whole different way.
Diego called out for his mother.
“Duty calls. Have fun, you two.” She practically smirked as she stood gracefully and took the wine with her.
Catalina waited for August to go outside, but he didn’t. Instead he watched her, clearly trying to calculate her mood. She forced her emotions down and blanked her face. He was too good at deep diving into her psyche, and she really, really needed some space to shore up her defenses.
“Cat,” he said, and his voice ached in a way that it never had before.
Fear slammed into her. She opened her mouth, intending to stem his words, but hers came out way too honest.
“Thanks for standing up for me today. Not many people have.”
Too embarrassed to see his expression, she stared blankly at the tasting notes she’d just finished. Now he’d think she was pathetic. Lost without him, and she so wasn’t.
“Why not?”
A bitter laugh rolled around her throat, but she swallowed it. She had a huge career opportunity in Last Stand. She knew she could make wines that would win awards and build fans. But she didn’t know what she wanted for herself personally—what she wanted her relationship with August to look like.
She was feeling less and less like friendly and professional were going to cut it.
But they have to.
The inner plea sounded childlike even to her.
She powered down her computer. “I’m going to…”
“Sit with me,” August said. “Outside. Under the stars. Talk to me. Or don’t talk. Just be with me, Cat, please. I need that.”
Need. Had August ever needed her before? Just once when he’d called from the hospital.
Only one of her several Achilles’ heels—craving to be needed. Craving to belong. Craving.
She didn’t answer. She just swept by him and opened the door grabbing a bottle of whiskey from August’s Portland-based distillery.
She had a feeling she was going to need it.
*
Cat sat on the pavers, feet dangling in the bubbling saltwater Jacuzzi, head tilted back toward the sky.
She looked beautiful and remote like some ancient pagan goddess he was interrupting in her spiritual quest.
She was supposed to make him feel connected, soothed. Instead he felt more jacked up and unsettled than ever. He settled near her feet and submerged his aching body in the bubbles.
“Why don’t you want to marry me?” he asked, taking a sip of whiskey from one of the two glasses she’d poured. He savored the burn and leaned his head back so he could look at the star-spangled sky and let the bubbles do their work.
The question was harder than he’d thought, and he hated the shaft of vulnerability that filtered through him. He wasn’t used to it, and the past couple of days had beat him up more than just physically.
She held a shot of whiskey in a glass cradled against her chest.
“Do you really have to ask?”
“I’m asking.”
She sighed heavily like wind through the stands of oak that liberally dotted the property.
“So many reasons,” she sighed.
“Top three.” He tried to make the question sound like a joke.
“Three?” She still wouldn’t look at him.
“Top five?” Hard dismay washed through him.
Cat put down the whiskey glass with a light thunk, and her eyes narrowed on him. Good. He had her attention. Finally.
“You don’t want to marry me,” she said, her voice full of conviction. Her pale gray-green eyes looked mysterious in the night and practically sparked.
“I do,” he shot back. Why would she toss his proposal back in his face like this? A man shouldn’t have to ask twice. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
“You didn’t exactly ask.” Cat’s voice slipped into sarcasm, her default mode when he started pushing buttons.
Good. They were finally getting somewhere. No longer dancing around the elephant in the room—whatever it was this time.
“Are you saying you just didn’t like my wording or my style of asking?”
She huffed out an adorable sound and scowled.
“You suggested marriage as part of a business transaction like we were back in the five cows, a horse and an oak chest of linens days.”
“Are you planning to bring any cows to our union?” He reached for humor, knowing that would work better with her.
“That’s the point. I’m not bringing anything. It’s a stupid deal. Fifty percent. I’m a winemaker. I’m not worth that. And what are you getting out of it? Nothing.”
She jerked her legs out of the Jacuzzi as if to stand, but he managed to snag one foot and drag her back so her butt teetered on the edge. He stood up and pulled her legs apart so he could lever himself between them. She radiated tension and fury. Perfect. He felt pretty mean himself. And if she didn’t get on board fast, the top of his head was going to blow off.
“You. I’m getting you,” he snarled. Damn, but he felt ferocious.
But Cat’s lack of fire, the myriad of expressions that crossed her face and the disbelief and confusion that settled there really pissed him off.
“That’s not enough,” she breathed.
“Are you serious right now?”
He was so angry that she thought so little of him and of herself that he just wanted to… The anger that had always seared through him as a youth and teen, the emotions he’d learned to harness by running, working out, and ambition had nowhere to go. It flamed hotter than a shot of whiskey. He shook with so many conflicting emotions right now that he couldn’t begin to sort them.
“You are worth more than any winery,” he growled, barely recognizing his voice or himself.
And then he kissed her. Hard. Fierce. Letting everything that had been churning inside of him—worry about his injured friends and staff, concern about Verflu
cht, the past that seemed to have Cat in such a grip and holding her away from him—just fly.
He caught her startled gasp, the flavor of wine, the taste that had always been uniquely hers, and the feel of her compact body that had always made him feel so damn protective and special to be the one she needed. Usually when he kissed her they’d ignite, but this time she made a startled sound like she was hurt.
“What?” He palmed the back of her head, his eyes searching hers, concern for her overriding all the other bullshit that had been flaying him raw for the past few days. “Did I hurt you?”
Her fingers pressed against her mouth.
“Cat, what’s wrong? Baby, let me see.”
He’d kill himself if he’d hurt her. He’d been that much out of control.
“No, it’s nothing,” she said quickly, not meeting his eyes, but he pulled her fingers away, and he did notice in the dim light from the stars and the bit filtering from the house that her lips looked a little swollen.
“Is that a bruise? Did I…?”
“No. It’s fine. I just was surprised.”
Still not looking at him. His Cat never backed down.
“Baby.” His hand, still tangled in her hair, smoothed down her back and pulled her in close. And then he remembered something. Her father and brother had been in the tasting room before he or Axel arrived. “Did your dad hurt you?” He could barely form the words, the idea was so abhorrent, but then he remembered bruises she’d have on her upper arms as a kid. He hadn’t thought much about them. They were kids. Ranch. It was a rough life.
But now he could barely swallow.
“Cat?”
Her face was buried in the crook of his neck, and he could feel her tremble.
“You don’t want to marry me. You don’t, and I don’t want to play games anymore. I can’t,” she whispered like a confession.
And the feel of her breath and lips against his neck gave him an instant hard-on.
“Oh, baby, I’m not playing.”
He kissed her lips lightly, like a prayer.
A Bride for the Texas Cowboy Page 13