Lip Service

by Susan Mallery

She nodded. Worry darkened her green eyes. “Mitch, I’m sorry,” she began.

  He leaned against the desk and prepared for her to grovel. He planned to enjoy every minute of it and then he was going to crush her.

  “I didn’t sleep with Ray on the first date,” she said. “It was the third and I cried the whole time. I hated being with him more than I can say. There was nothing wrong with him except he wasn’t you and I was so in love with you.”

  Her words made him sick to his stomach. “I don’t want to hear this.”

  “I know, but let me say it anyway. Ray felt badly and I was devastated. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t marry him. I realized it that night. I was going to find you and tell you. I was hoping you would forgive me. Jed figured all that out and I knew he was going to threaten me or you or both of us. Which he did. He also pointed out that I’d better be sure I wasn’t pregnant before running back to you.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “I was. I found out a few days later. I knew I couldn’t show up, carrying another man’s baby. I knew you’d never forgive me. I also couldn’t keep Ray from his child. Marrying him was the best choice.”

  “That’s all bullshit,” he growled. “It wasn’t the best choice, it was the easiest one. You got everything you wanted, including keeping Erin from me.”

  Only speaking the words no longer felt right and the certainty in her eyes made him doubt himself.

  “He was a good man, but he wasn’t you,” she said. “We all have guilty secrets. That’s mine. I grew to love him, but it wasn’t enough. He never got my whole heart. Erin was born five weeks early. She’s his. I’m sorry. Not for that but for everything else.”

  Tears spilled onto her cheeks. She turned and walked out, leaving him alone, holding the letter.

  He didn’t have to open it because he already knew. She wasn’t lying. Erin wasn’t his. She never had been. He’d come home to nothing.

  He left the office, not bothering to close the door behind him. He had no idea where he was going, he just knew it was away from here. In the distance he heard Erin’s laughter. The sound cut through him, reminding him of all he’d lost. Even the anger seemed gone. There was nothing inside of him anymore. Nothing but useless space.

  He walked and walked until his leg ached so bad he began to stumble. He could feel the blood soaking the sock on his stump and still he kept moving. He reached a rise in the land and stood staring at everything he owned.

  In the distance, the cattle moved—dark shadows on the land. He could see the goddamn chickens and the horizon in the distance. All his. And he didn’t care about any of it.

  He would swear he could still hear Erin’s laughter, that the sound carried to him on the wind. He could feel her surprisingly strong hug, feel her bony arms holding on to him. His daughter.

  He’d been so sure. He’d convinced himself that she was what he’d had to come home for. But it had all been wishful thinking.

  He opened the envelope and stared at the typed words. Skye had spoken the truth. Erin wasn’t his.

  He crumpled the paper and let it fall to the ground. Then his leg gave way and he sprawled onto the dirt, broken and worthless.

  Sometime later, when the sun had burned his skin and his lips had crackled from dryness, he heard a truck engine. Arturo parked next to him and got out. Mitch tried to get up but couldn’t. He had to wait and let the old man half drag him into the passenger seat.

  His stump ached more than it had since the initial surgery. He could feel the blood, the raw flesh and knew he’d probably done some serious damage, but he didn’t care.

  Arturo was silent and Mitch didn’t bother speaking. What was there to say?

  Arturo drove past the ranch and headed to Dallas.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Mitch asked.

  His ranch manager pointed to the front of Mitch’s jeans. “The hospital.”

  Mitch glanced down and saw bloodstains. He swore under his breath, then leaned back and closed his eyes. There wasn’t a single part of him that could imagine giving a damn about anything ever again.

  “YOU’RE MORE STUPID than I thought.”

  The words came clearly, despite the haze of pain-killers. Mitch opened his eyes and saw Joss standing over him.

  It took him a second to figure out where he was and what had brought him here. The E.R. doctor had taken one look at his bleeding stump and admitted him. Apparently Mitch had lost more blood than he’d realized because now he’d been given a transfusion, put on an IV, drugged up and scolded by nearly every medical person he came in contact with.

  “They’re transferring you to the VA in a couple of hours,” Joss went on. “When I heard what had happened, I came by to see if it was true. You’re a real idiot.”

  “You mentioned that.”

  The physical therapist stared at him. “You trying to kill yourself or are you thinking that’s just a happy by-product of all this?”

  “I got distracted. I didn’t pay attention to what I was doing.”

  “Uh-huh. Anyone here believe that?” Joss picked up the prosthesis from the chair in the corner. “They had to cut this off you, which means you need a new socket. Imagine how fast I’m going to be ordering that.”

  That brought Mitch to a sitting position. “You can’t keep me on crutches.”

  “Sure I can. I’m mean and vindictive. I’m also the boss of you, so I can do anything I want.” Joss grinned. “I sound like one of my grandkids.”

  Mitch collapsed back on the pillows. He hurt all over and the medication had left him sick to his stomach. Or maybe that was more about the thought of being on crutches.

  “You need to heal,” Joss told him. “You wouldn’t do it on your own. Now I’m going to make it happen. You’re not getting this back for at least two weeks.” He put a business card on the tray by the bed. “Your next appointment, where you’ll get this back. Don’t be late.”

  Then he was gone.

  Frustration and rage built up in Mitch. He wanted to go after Joss, grab him and pound him into the ground. But he couldn’t get up, couldn’t walk without some kind of help.

  Worthless, he thought as he lay there hurting everywhere. So fucking worthless.

  A man in an expensive suit knocked on his open door.

  “Mitch Cassidy?” he asked as he entered.

  Mitch frowned. “Who are you?”

  “Garth Duncan. Does that name mean anything to you?”

  “No. Now get out.”

  “I will, in a minute. I would like to discuss a little business with you.”

  Mitch wasn’t interested. “Unless you want to buy a whole lot of free-range poultry, this conversation is going nowhere.”

  “I understand you used to date Skye Titan.”

  Mitch looked at the other man. There was something familiar about him, although he didn’t think they’d met.

  “What business is that of yours?”

  “None, really.” The man pulled up a chair and sat down. “I’m Jed Titan’s bastard.”

  The last of the drug-induced fogginess faded. Mitch pushed the button to raise the bed and he stared at Garth. Now he realized why Garth looked familiar. There was plenty of Jed in him, at least physically.

  “I never heard about you,” he said.

  “No one has, although it’s a pretty common story. Jed knocked up my mother and bought her off. Now I want payback.” Garth leaned back in his chair. “I thought you might like a piece of the action.”

  “You want to bring down Jed?”

  “I want to bring down all of them, Mitch. Every last Titan.” Garth tugged at the sleeve of his jacket. “Not the kid. Erin doesn’t interest me. But the sisters and their father? I want them ground to dust.”

  He spoke casually but there was intensity in his words.

  Mitch felt a flicker of interest. “What makes you think you can do it? The girls might be softer targets but Jed’s another matter. He’s a mean old son of a bitch and he doesn’t care who he hur
ts.”

  “Like father like son,” Garth said. “I have unlimited resources. I have people in places that would turn Jed Titan’s hair white. I’m going to win this and when I do, I’ll be the one sleeping at Glory’s Gate. I’m offering you a chance to get even.”

  Mitch was less sure about that. “Why would I need to get even?”

  Garth shrugged. “Skye dumped you.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “Jed screwed over my mother before I was born and I’m still pissed. It’s your call. If you’re not interested, so be it.”

  “I could tell them all you’ve been here.”

  “You could. It wouldn’t change anything.”

  Mitch had to admit Garth had a pair on him.

  Hurt the Titans. He’d never considered it an option, but he sure could warm to the idea. Not so much the rest of them, but bringing down Skye had a certain appeal. She was in the middle of all this, he thought grimly. He wanted her to feel as helpless as he did, as angry, as unable to make things right. Screwing Jed would be a nice by-product.

  “What would you want from me?” he asked.

  Garth gave him a slow smile. “Just listen, pay attention and report back to me. I want to know vulnerabilities. What makes them bleed. Information is power.”

  Mitch knew Skye’s greatest vulnerability was Erin, but he wasn’t going to say that to Garth. Despite everything, the little girl still mattered to him.

  “I’ll pay you,” Garth began.

  Mitch’s gaze narrowed. “Don’t make me kill you.”

  Garth held up both hands. “Sorry. I have people who are only in on this because of the money.”

  “I’m not one of them.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll be in touch.” He stood and crossed to the bed, then offered his hand.

  Mitch hesitated a second before shaking it.

  “Good to meet you, Mitch.”

  Garth left.

  Mitch turned away from the door and told himself he should feel better about finally having a plan. He was going to help destroy the Titans.

  But as he lowered the back of the bed and tried to find a more comfortable position he found himself wondering if he’d lost more than a part of his leg in Afghanistan. Had he also lost part of himself?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IF THIS WAS a family dinner, Skye thought, it certainly wasn’t greeting-card material. The table in the dining room groaned with food, but no one was eating. She and Izzy still weren’t exactly friends. Jed was distracted and Lexi and Cruz only had eyes for each other. Erin alone was normal, chatting about how school was almost over, the things she wanted to do on her summer break and how high she could jump now.

  “You should come see me jump, Grandpa,” she said cheerfully.

  Jed managed to look up and frown. “You win any medals?”

  “I’m just starting, but I will.”

  Jed grinned. “That’s my girl. You’re going to be the best. Bring home an Olympic medal and we’ll put it front and center.”

  Erin looked pleased and attacked her mashed potatoes.

  “I was a barrel racer in high school,” Izzy told Erin. “It was a lot of fun. We could practice together sometime.”

  “Okay,” Erin said, always happy to spend time with her aunt.

  Lexi whispered something to Cruz, who grinned. They were crazy about each other, Skye thought, trying not to be bitter. She didn’t begrudge her sister her happiness—she just wanted a little of the same for herself. Someone to lean on. Someone to share with. Someone to help and laugh with and smile at for the rest of her life.

  Even knowing it was stupid, her brain turned immediately to Mitch. She hadn’t seen him since he’d found out the truth about Erin. Fidela had told her he’d landed in the hospital and was now on crutches. Apparently he hadn’t been ready for all the walking he’d done.

  She wondered how he was and wanted to go see him. Not that she would. He would only try to beat up on her again. She shouldn’t think about him at all.

  He wasn’t her ideal man. He was just some guy she used to know…and couldn’t stop thinking about. But who needed lust? She had loved her husband. Maybe their relationship hadn’t been all fire and passion, but it had been strong and admirable. She winced inwardly knowing no one who wanted to be in love was looking for “admirable.”

  People wanted the fire, although in her opinion it was highly overrated. She burned for Mitch and what did that get her? A giant pain in her butt, that’s what.

  “The teacher at school said you have mad cows, Grandpa,” Erin said into the silence. “I said our cows are very happy.”

  Jed looked up, his expression furious. “What stupid bi—”

  “Dad,” Skye said sharply. “She was just expressing an opinion and she’s Erin’s teacher.”

  Jed glanced at Erin. “She’s an idiot.”

  Erin put down her fork. “She knows a lot. She’s a good teacher, Grandpa. She just doesn’t know our cows.”

  Izzy’s mouth twitched. “Perhaps we should invite her over. They could have tea.”

  Skye ignored that. “She’s not saying the cows are unhappy. Mad cow is a kind of sickness cows get. If people eat the cows, then they can get sick, too.”

  Erin chewed on her steak. She’d been raised on a working ranch. She knew where dinner came from. “But our cows aren’t sick, are they?”

  “No. They’re fine. But people get confused.”

  “Mostly grown-ups,” Erin muttered under her breath.

  “You got that right,” Izzy said, looking at Skye.

  Dinner limped painfully along. When they were finished and the table cleared, Lexi and Cruz took Erin out for ice cream. Skye paced restlessly in her bedroom before grabbing her car keys and running downstairs. She was probably going to get her head chewed off, but she had to see him. Had to know if he was okay.

  At the Cassidy Ranch Fidela answered the door immediately.

  “He’s in the barn. In his office,” she said, looking worried. “He’s been in there every day since he got out of the hospital. He won’t talk to me or eat. He just drinks. I don’t know what to do. You’ll go talk to him? You’ll make him feel better?”

  “Let’s not get carried away,” Skye murmured. “I’ll check on him.”

  “Good. He needs something.” She spoke softly in Spanish, her words almost like a prayer.

  Skye drove around to the barn and got out of her car.

  It was early evening. The air was still warm, with a hint of coolness. The bugs were loud, the horses quiet and she had the sense of being the last person alive. That lasted until she heard the crash of glass breaking.

  Stuffing her keys in her jeans pocket, she hurried toward Mitch’s office. She found him standing by his desk, supported by one crutch. His left pant leg hung empty. A Scotch bottle lay in shatters by the wall, another sat on his desk.

  “Well, lookee here,” he said, his words slurring. “Skye Titan. Is it your day to make calls on the local cripples? You gonna check on the widows and orphans after you see me?”

  His skin was pale, his eyes bloodshot, but his hand was steady as he poured himself another drink from the fresh bottle.

  “I wouldn’t want to be you when you wake up in the morning,” she said.

  “You wouldn’t want to be me anytime,” he told her. “God knows, I don’t want to be.” He sank heavily into his chair and pushed the bottle toward her. “Help yourself. Sorry I don’t have another glass. You can drink out of the bottle. I don’t care.”

  She ignored the invitation. “I wanted to see how you were.”

  He waved the crutch at her. “Never better. How ’bout yourself? You’re looking particularly sexy tonight, Skye. Why don’t you take your shirt off so I can see those pretty breasts of yours.” He raised the glass toward her. “To your breasts, darling, and every man they’ve brought to his knees.”

  He was beyond drunk. She eyed the bottle and wondered if he was in any kind of danger from alcoho
l poisoning.

  She picked up the bottle of Scotch, walked over to the sink in the corner and poured it out.

  “I’ve got five more just like that one,” he said.

  She turned to face him and set the empty bottle on the counter. “Maybe, but you’re going to have to get up to find them and I doubt you’ll make it halfway across the room.”

  His gaze centered on her chest. “That depends on my motivation.”

  She ignored that. “Have you done anything since you got out of the hospital?” she asked. “Other than drink? Or are you just sitting around feeling sorry for yourself.”

  He drained his glass. “You don’t get to play this game with me.”

  “Why not? Someone has to. Look at yourself, Mitch. This isn’t who you are. I know you had a rough time, but you’re alive. You have a home and people who care about you.”

  “Not a kid, though. Right? No kid.”

  “You came home,” she said, determined to get through to him. “What about the guys who didn’t? What about the guys who don’t have a home or a family? I think they get first shot at the pity trough. You’re hogging way more than your share.”

  He glared at her. “Don’t push me, little girl,” he growled. “I can still take you.”

  “Not tonight, you can’t.”

  “I can try and I promise that will hurt.”

  She approached the desk and stared down at him. “Is that what you want? To hurt me? Will that make it all better? Fine. Give it your best shot. I dumped you, Mitch. I walked out on our relationship. Start the punishment.”

  He slammed the glass back on the desk. “That’s just it, Skye. You didn’t dump me. You accepted my proposal. You told me you loved me and wanted to be with me forever and then you changed your mind because your daddy told you to.”

  He was right. About all of it. “I was scared,” she admitted, her defiance gone. “Jed was going to turn his back on me. I couldn’t stand that. I’d already lost my mom. He was all I had left.”

  “You were all I had,” he yelled. “I’d lost both my parents that summer, Skye. I thought we were going to be there for each other.”

  She hung her head. “I know. I’m sorry.”