by Pamela Tyner
Tricia’s head jerked up. “His sister? Which one?”
Jack glanced over at her. “Kelly. Did you know her?”
“Yes. No, not really,” she corrected. “I met her once.”
She’d met Clint’s mother and his two younger sisters when she’d been invited to eat dinner with them on Christmas Eve. They’d been very kind and had made her feel right at home. At the time, it had made her feel special that he had introduced her to his family.
That was the night she’d lost her virginity. Mere months later, Clint shattered any illusion she had that she was special to him.
She remembered Kelly, the youngest of the three siblings. At the time she’d been fifteen and excited about the fact that in a matter of months she’d be able to drive. She had one of those innocent looking faces that lit up every time she smiled, and she had smiled a great deal.
“She was a sweet girl,” Jack said.
Tricia nodded. “How did she die?”
“She was murdered.”
“Oh my God,” she gasped, laying a hand over her heart. “Did they catch the person that did it?”
“Yeah, they caught him. They didn’t have to look very far. It was her husband.”
Chapter 12
Tricia leaned back against the trunk of the tree, stretched her legs out in front of her, and crossed her ankles. The silence and total lack of distractions provided the perfect atmosphere to contemplate her future plans. But no matter how intently she tried to focus her thoughts, her mind kept drifting to Kelly—the sweet little girl whose life had been cut short at the hands of the man who’d promised to love and protect her.
As much as the thoughts disturbed her, she couldn’t seem to shove them away.
“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Jack commented.
She glanced over at him. He was sitting on the grassy bank of the pond, and the fishing rods were propped up beside him on forked sticks.
“You okay?” he asked. “I didn’t mean to upset you by telling you about Kelly.”
“I’m fine.” She gave him a small smile, hoping it would reassure him and ease the concern in his eyes. “It just shocked me. Clint never mentioned it. What happened to her husband?”
“Life sentence. He should have gotten the death penalty.”
“At least he’s in prison so he can’t hurt anyone else.”
“I guess that’s something.” His tone, however, indicated the insincerity of the statement. Jack returned his gaze to the colorful red bobbers in the water.
“It doesn’t look like those fish have any intention of being caught.”
“You just have to be patient.”
Tricia wondered how many more hours of patience would be required. Frankly, she was ready to call it a day. Although tempted to ask Jack to take her back to Clint’s house, she resisted the urge. She had known from the beginning it wouldn’t be a quick outing, and still she’d agreed to come. Therefore, she’d endure it for as long as she could.
Using the hem of her t-shirt, she wiped the perspiration off her face. By her estimation, she figured she must have sweated off at least a pound or two.
With the exception of the birds chirping overhead, silence surrounded them. What she longed to hear was the rustle of the leaves blowing in the breeze, but the hot, heavy air remained motionless.
As she looked out at the water, she couldn’t help but imagine how refreshing it would be to jump in for a quick swim. Without a bathing suit, she might not be able to swim, but she could wade. After slipping off her shoes, she strolled to the shallow water at the edge of the pond. Stuffing her hands in the pockets of her shorts, she wandered down the shoreline, the water sloshing against her ankles.
She’d traveled about a hundred yards when the sound of an engine had her turning and looking into the distance. Clint’s truck pulled to a stop beside Jack’s. Clint got out of the truck, looked in Tricia’s direction, and lifted his hand in greeting.
Automatically, she returned the gesture, grateful for his arrival because it meant she could finally leave and wouldn’t have to impose on Jack for a ride. As she headed back in their direction, Clint walked over and spoke with Jack. By the time she reached them, they were gathering up the fishing equipment.
“You’re leaving?” she asked Jack.
“I’ve got to go run an errand.”
Strange, he hadn’t mentioned an errand, and just half an hour ago he’d seemed like a man who had every intention of sitting there for the remainder of the day. And being perfectly content to do so.
“It was fun, Tricia. Maybe we can do it again sometime.”
“Sure.” The very second Clint outfitted his entire herd in hot pink tutus she’d be dialing Jack’s number and pleading with him to take her fishing. She smiled at the mental image the thought evoked.
Tricia plopped down on the ground and reached for her shoes. As she put them on, the two men loaded the rods and tackle into Jack’s truck. Clint pulled some bills from his pocket and passed several to Jack who shoved them in the pocket of his jeans. After calling a quick goodbye to her, Jack climbed in his truck and took off.
Tricia stood and headed toward Clint, frowning when he opened the passenger door of his truck and removed a small cooler. She hoped he didn’t intend to take over Jack’s fishing spot. If he did, he’d have to take her back to the house first.
“I brought lunch.” Clint set a cardboard box on top of the cooler, then reached back inside his truck and pulled out a blanket. He tucked the blanket under his arm, then picked up the cooler and box and headed toward the pond. From the looks of it, he expected her to follow along behind him.
She supposed another hour or so in the great outdoors wouldn’t kill her. Since the man had gone to all the trouble of fixing lunch and bringing it to her, the least she could do was eat it.
After Clint had deposited everything beneath the shade of the tree, he spread the blanket out on the ground. Tricia sank to her knees, folded back the flaps of the box, and began to set the items out on the blanket. Sandwiches, chips, chocolate chip cookies.
“Where did these come from?” she asked, holding up a huge plastic bag of strawberries.
Clint hadn’t had any strawberries at his house. If he had she would have found them long ago, and they wouldn’t have lasted long.
“Fruit stand,” he replied.
“I had a fruit stand when I was little.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Mmm-hmm. I was about ten. I bugged my dad relentlessly until he finally built me one.” Although simple, and not incredibly sturdy, it had served the purpose. “I bought fruit from this old farmer my dad knew, and then sold it for a profit. I didn’t make much on the strawberries though, which might have had something to do with the fact that I kept eating the merchandise. I think I actually lost money on those.”
Clint opened the cooler, removed two cans of soda, and passed one to Tricia.
“But watermelon…now that was a different story. I bought them for a dollar and sold them for two. Pretty good profit margin.”
“You were quite the little entrepreneur.”
Had Matt made that statement, he would have said the words in a snarl, and they would have dripped with sarcasm. But not Clint. His tone was one of…admiration almost.
“Yep. That was when I decided to go to business school.” Looking back now, she realized her goal should have been a little more specific—to go to business school and to graduate.
“Why didn’t you finish?” Clint asked, as if reading her thoughts.
“When Mom and Dad died…” Pain jabbed at her heart, as it always did when she thought of her parents. “I had a hard time dealing with it. I couldn’t concentrate. My grades plummeted. It seemed like the practical thing to do was take some time off and go back when I was more focused. I never made it back.”
“You still could.”
“I’d have to go through the admission process all over again. It takes time. Until then, I have to live, so my fi
rst goal is finding a job. And speaking of a job, do you mind if I use your computer? I want to create a resume.” The resume would be pretty flimsy in the way of experience, but she did have basic office skills, along with some college business credits. Hopefully, it would be sufficient to qualify for an entry-level position somewhere.
That somewhere probably wouldn’t be Lexington. Small towns equated to few jobs. She planned to search for work in the larger cities and commute until she’d earned enough money to rent an apartment. She knew Jenny and Neil would let her stay with them temporarily.
“I don’t mind. Knock yourself out, honey. Just let me know if you need anything.”
“Thanks.” She smiled in appreciation.
Conversation ceased as they ate lunch, and they sat in companionable silence.
Tricia fanned herself with her hand. When that had little effect, she grasped the front of her shirt and pulled it to and fro.
“If you’re hot, we can always go for a swim,” Clint suggested.
“No bathing suit.”
“What do you need a bathing suit for? Just strip down and go in naked. There’s nobody here to see.”
She lifted a brow. “I don’t think so.”
His lips curved into a secretive smile. “We’ve done it before. Don’t you remember?”
Yes, she did. Mental pictures of just what that night had involved threatened to invade her mind. Since they weren’t images she had any desire to view, she firmly denied them entrance.
“That was different.”
Tricia pulled a plump, red strawberry from the bag. As she bit into it, juice dribbled down her chin. She started to wipe it off, but, before she was able to, Clint reached over and wiped it off with his finger.
She watched as he slowly licked the juice off his finger. Suddenly, she imagined his tongue stroking her skin, could almost feel it—wet and soft and warm. Heat pooled in her belly, and she bit her lip to keep from moaning aloud.
She raised her gaze to meet his. Desire flared in those blue eyes staring back at her. But there was something more. A promise almost. A promise of fulfillment, and all she had to do was consent. Though one part of her was awfully tempted to do exactly that, her more rational side prevailed.
“I’m not sleeping with you again,” she said softly.
“You’ve already told me that.” Based on his words and his tone, one might think that he understood and accepted her position. But his eyes said something entirely different.
“I mean it,” she insisted.
“I have no reason to doubt you.” He sounded so agreeable. Too agreeable.
“But you think you can change my mind.”
“I never said that.”
“You’re going to try.”
He paused for a moment before replying, “I won’t lie to you. There’s nothing I’d love more than to change your mind about the subject.”
“You won’t be able to.”
His eyes examined her face. “You want to know what I think? You’re spending a lot of time talking about this, almost as if you’re trying to convince yourself.”
She huffed out a breath and crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s ridiculous.”
He lifted a shoulder in a nonchalant gesture. “Okay.” He smiled. “I have something for you.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “What?”
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a grape sucker, and held it out for her to take.
Then she remembered the night they’d gone to Bushwhackers to hear Jack sing. As they’d danced Clint had mentioned her fondness of strawberries and grape suckers.
I used to watch you suck on one of those things, and it was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen. The way you’d slide it in and out of your mouth, it put all kinds of naughty images in a man’s mind.
If he thought she had any intention of putting on a show for him, he was certifiable.
“Thanks.” She shoved the sucker in her pocket. “I’m going to save it for later.”
His lips pulled down in a slight frown, and she thought she might have glimpsed a sliver of disappointment in his eyes. Then it disappeared to be replaced by amusement as he obviously realized why she’d been reluctant to feast on the treat.
As she stared into those twinkling blue eyes of his, she was reminded of his younger sister who’d had eyes the same color. Eyes that had lit up every time she smiled.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Kelly?”
In an instant, his expression hardened. “I see Jack’s been running his mouth.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked again.
“You didn’t ask.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I didn’t think it was the best story to share with a woman…in your situation.”
More than likely that was the same reason Jenny hadn’t mentioned it. They didn’t want to frighten her.
“I don’t talk about it,” Clint said. “Ever.”
“Sometimes talking helps.”
He snorted. “That’s a strange statement coming from you. Haven’t you spent the last week refusing to talk to me about past events?”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“You know how. You intentionally hurt me, but you’re not responsible for what happened to Kelly.”
“Yes, I am.” His words were spoken softly but with conviction.
Stunned by the statement, it took her a moment to respond. “How? You weren’t even here when it happened. Were you?”
“No.” He drew in a deep breath and then exhaled. “But I came home for the wedding. I gave her away. I gave her to the man who ended up killing her.”
“And because of that you feel responsible?” She managed to bite her tongue before she tacked on the phrase that’s ridiculous.
He shook his head. “It’s more than that. About six or seven months later I came home for Christmas, and Mom told me she suspected things weren’t right. When I talked to Kelly about it, she insisted everything was wonderful. So I blew it off as Mom’s overactive imagination and went back to Texas. A week later Kelly was dead.”
He rubbed a spot in the middle of his chest as if trying to massage away a physical ache. Without thinking, Tricia reached out and placed her hand on his leg in a totally inadequate gesture of comfort.
“I should have…” His words trailed off.
“Should have what?”
“Done something.”
“Like you did with me. That’s why you were so determined to help me.”
“Maybe that was part of it. I don’t know. All I knew was that I wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. Never again will I stand back and do nothing when someone I love is in danger.”
At the word love, her eyes widened and the breath backed up in her lungs. She yanked her hand back and shook her head as if to deny his words.
“Sorry, honey. Didn’t mean to scare you with the L word.” His tone was soothing and gentle. He lifted his mouth in a lazy smile that she imagined was meant to be reassuring.
Clint began to gather the trash from their lunch and toss it in the box.
“I never made it out to check on the cattle, so if you don’t mind we’ll do that before we go back to the house. It won’t take long.”
* * * *
That evening Clint leaned against the porch post and watched Jack’s truck bounce down the driveway, leaving a trail of dust in its wake.
Hinges creaked as the front door opened, and he glanced over his shoulder. Tricia strolled outside to stand beside him. Her hair, wet from the shower and neatly combed, hung down her back. Her face was shiny clean, pink—whether from the scrubbing or from too much sun, he didn’t know. Most likely a combination of the two.
“Who was that?” she asked.
“Jack. He brought a delivery.”
Clint tilted his head, and Tricia looked in the direction he indicated. She stared at the rocking chair for a long moment before shifting her ga
ze back to Clint, her eyebrows raised in surprise.
“You told me I needed one.” He gestured toward the chair with his hand. “Go ahead. Try it out.”
She walked over and sat down. Setting the rocker in motion, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. The ends of her mouth lifted a fraction of a degree to form a soft smile. She looked peaceful and happy. Which was, of course, exactly what he’d hoped for. If he could ease her into a sense of comfort, then maybe he’d be able to slip underneath those defenses she had so firmly set in place.
Lifting her head, she opened her eyes and met his gaze. “I know what you’re doing.”
“Really? What’s that?”
“You’re trying to soften me up.”
“I’m just trying to make you smile. But if I were trying to soften you up, would it be working?”
“No.”
Okay, so it would take a little more time and effort.
She shifted in the chair. “You know, most men would give women flowers and candy, not strawberries and suckers and rocking chairs.”
“Maybe I’ll give those a try next.” He winked at her and smiled. “You want a drink?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t think plying me with alcohol is going to help either.”
He laughed. “I’ll make it tea.”
He went inside and returned minutes later with two glasses of tea. After handing one to Tricia, he strolled to the porch swing and took a seat. Staring into the distance, he watched the sun sink in the sky, casting a warm orange glow over the landscape.
“Why did you get divorced?”
He jerked his head around to look at Tricia, stunned at the question. He hadn’t a clue what had prompted her to ask that, and it wasn’t an issue he cared to discuss. But he would. Just as he’d discussed Kelly. After all, he could hardly expect Tricia to open up to him, if he wasn’t willing to do the same with her.
“I married the wrong woman.”
That’s evasive. Try again.
“The relationship was already on shaky ground when we got married, but she was pregnant. I thought maybe we could make it work. I was wrong. She was miserable, which resulted in me being miserable. Constant tension and disagreements…” He shrugged as the words trailed off.