by Laura Wright
Emily didn’t even try to look sheepish. Because she didn’t feel that. Didn’t buy into that. A woman made her own decisions. Especially this woman. “Good,” she said, moving over to where her laptop was open on the dining table. She shut it. “Really nice being with people who are excited and supportive and—”
“Okay. Stop.”
His severe tone had her head coming up, her eyes locking with his. Was he really going to be annoyed at her? After how he’d been acting?
He shook his head. “I know you’re punishing me.”
“That would be incredibly immature of me, wouldn’t it?”
A shadow of amusement touched his gaze. “Just listen, okay?”
She sighed, retracted a bit. “Fine.”
“I came into this,” he began, scrubbing a hand over his jaw, “you and me . . . with a whole helluva lot of baggage. No excuse, just fact. I’ve been trying ever since to get past my own shit, the distrust I feel, how goddamned painful it was to be lied to again and again.” His eyes caught hers and held. “I didn’t mean to put that on you, but I have. I did. My instincts are raw, Emily. They make me act or react without involving my heart. I’m going to work on that.”
Damn. All sarcasm and imperviousness started to melt within Emily as she listened. Was Blue Perez Cavanaugh actually being vulnerable with her? That was a first. But how long would it last?
“Let’s get something straight,” he continued, keeping his distance. “I love kissing you, touching you, licking you,” his eyes darkened, “but there is nothing I want more than to fuck you.”
Emily’s mouth dropped open, and breathlessly, she uttered, “So . . . do it.”
It was a dare. One he should grab onto if he had any sense.
And yet he hesitated.
“Blue.” She shook her head, so tired of this game now. Maybe they both just needed to stop playing. “You need to know if you decide to give your heart to me, I would hold it gently. With great care.” She felt emotion building inside her, felt some tears in the back of her throat—but she refused to give in to them. “But if not, that’ll be okay too. You and I can be friends. Raise this baby together, as friends.”
Horror washed over his face. “Friends.”
“Nothing wrong with friends. It’s good to have them.” And sometimes all you get . . .
“I don’t want to be your friend, Emily Shiver,” he practically growled. “And you damn well know it.”
She cocked her head and shrugged. “And I don’t want a man’s hesitation. I don’t want half a man’s heart, and none of his trust. I deserve more. Way more. And I intend to get it.”
He looked like she’d just slapped him across the face.
And she wasn’t stopping there. “You need to let this go, your past, the resentment—every bit of it—once and for all,” she said. “Not for me, not for this baby, but for you.”
“Those are my mother’s words, aren’t they?” he said tightly.
“Does it matter?” she pressed.
“Hell, yes, it does.”
“It’s the truth.” She glared at him. “In all your self-righteous anger, have you ever once thought about her?”
“What do you mean?”
“Her struggle? Why she did what she did? Have you ever thought that maybe she kept that secret for you? To keep you safe?”
His expression tightened and his eyes went cold. “Boy, she really did a number on you.”
“You’re acting like a bastard.”
“Fitting then, isn’t it?”
He was like a goddamned metal wall. What had happened to him “trying”? “Do you remember how you felt watching me see those flyers today? Watching me tear them down?”
His eyes shuttered.
She nodded. “A single mother. Embarrassed, sure, but never regretting what I carry inside of me. Only protecting it.”
Jaw tight, he shook his head. “I didn’t always need protecting. She knew that, knew better. She could’ve told me when I got older—”
“Yes, she could have. But she didn’t. Does that one wrong choice really cancel out a lifetime of love?” She cocked her head. “Because if it does, you’d better hope you don’t screw up with your own child.”
He inhaled sharply. The thoughts going on behind those sky blue eyes were painful and plentiful. But Emily was done for the night. Done trying to reason with the unreasonable.
“You need to go now, Blue,” she said.
He released a heavy breath. “No. Dammit, Em. What I need is to stay here, be here—with you . . . fucking sleep with your head on my shoulder again. My arms around you.” His eyes clung to hers. “Don’t you want that? Don’t you miss that?”
Her gut twisted. “I do. More than you can possibly know. But just like you, I don’t want to have my heart broken in any more pieces than it already is.”
He stared at her for a long time, no doubt trying to decide how hard to push . . . if she was resolute. So Emily went back to her dining table and opened her laptop again. Message sent.
Blue cursed, shook his head. Next to him on the small entry table that had been in Emily’s parents’ garage since they’d moved in a few decades before, he spotted one of the many vases of flowers she’d placed around the apartment. Without a word, he picked out a red bud and left the apartment.
Feeling as if a part of her had just been stolen, had its source of sunlight taken away, Emily dropped into her chair. And with supreme effort, returned to her budget. And her future.
Twenty-six
Blue sat in his truck in the driveway of the Triple C and stared up at the house. This had been his home for most of his life, and he loved it. But for the past few months, his love had been tainted by secrets and lies. Ones he’d clung to for some strange sense of security.
Emily’s words scuttled through him. Had he ever, once, thought about Elena’s struggle with her pregnancy, him coming into the world? Sure, he’d thought there was a reason for her lies, but he didn’t venture past that. Because he’d been too stubborn, too unwilling to even contemplate forgiveness, and so very entitled.
He scrubbed a hand over his face and exhaled. Then he reached over and grabbed the flower he’d taken from Emily’s apartment and headed inside. This needed to end. He found Elena in the sitting room, a book in her hands. It was probably a mystery. She loved a good mystery.
Nerves running around inside his gut, he went over to her and placed the flower on the seat beside her. Then he sat down in the chair opposite and waited for her to look up. “Hey, Mom.”
He hadn’t called her Mom in months, and it startled her. Her gaze shifted to the flower, then back at him. A thousand emotions flickered in those dark depths.
“Please,” he said in a tone so gentle it made his own chest ache.
She put her book down on the side table and picked up her mug of coffee. “I wanted to meet her, Blue,” she explained. “Make sure she knew that if she needed anything, I was—”
“Mom?”
“What?”
“I’m glad you spent time with her.”
Her eyes widened. “You are?”
He nodded. “It made her happy.” Christ. “I want to make her happy.”
“Oh, Blue,” she said in the very same voice she’d used when he’d come home from school with a bad grade or a skinned knee. Not pity . . . not anger . . . only love. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”
He needed. “Yeah. I know. You’ve said that so many times. And truly, you only needed to say it once. Now, it’s me who needs to apologize.” He sat back in his chair and exhaled heavily. “I’m so sorry, for punishing you, for pushing you away, for not even allowing you the opportunity to explain.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “It’s okay.”
“No. It’s not. I’m an ass.”
She laughed softly. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much, son.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” His eyes caught hers and implored. “Will you tell me now, Mom? I swear I’m ready
to hear it.”
When what he was asking registered within Elena, she blanched. Obviously, the idea filled her with dread, but even so, she nodded. “You know I grew up in Austin.” He nodded. “Pretty much raised by my mother. My father had passed on just days after my third birthday, and I barely remember him. Me and Mom . . . we were all each other had—kind of like you and me used to be—”
Blue felt his insides constrict. With pain, emotion . . . and fuck him, love for this woman.
“And when she got sick,” Elena continued, “I had to quit high school to take care of her.” She smiled. “She hated that. Nearly forced me to go back. But I was stubborn. She needed me, and I swear I wouldn’t have traded that time for anything. Thing is . . .” She sighed. “After she died, finding work wasn’t easy. I wanted to go back and finish my education, but I needed to be able to support myself in the meantime. I scoured every Texas newspaper I could get my hands on, and I found a ranch in River Black that needed a housekeeper.”
“The Garrisons,” Blue put in.
“That’s right,” she confirmed. “They weren’t the nicest folks, but I was able to save some decent money. Which came in handy when the couple broke up and could no longer afford me. After a few other jobs, I landed a real good one as a cook at Pete’s . . .” She sighed wistfully. “Oh, I miss that place, miss Pete. He taught me everything. From prep to pastry.” She smiled at him. “It was a Saturday afternoon. I’d been experimenting with mole sauce, and I was sure it was the best I’d ever made. A man came back to the kitchen. My kitchen. I never allowed visitors, but this one . . .” Her smile broadened. “Handsomest cowboy I’ve ever seen. Older than me, but that didn’t matter. He told me he’d never tasted anything so good as that mole, and asked if he came back the next Saturday, would I make it again? I said I would.”
Blue had seen the way his mother’s expression changed as she’d told that last bit of the story. The blush of a woman who still had strong feelings.
“He came back every Saturday for two months,” she said. Then her smile faltered. “I knew he was married. I saw the ring. Got no excuse for that. I had fallen in love. And he’d said he wasn’t happy. It was a bad, destructive recipe—but so beautifully addictive. Well, things progressed from there and I got pregnant.” Her eyes found his and another kind of love glittered in those dark orbs. “He was as thrilled as I was—make no mistake, Blue. But we knew we had to keep it a secret. Too many people would get hurt. And then, Lord, one did . . .”
“Cass?”
She nodded. “And life for everyone went to hell. Everett wasn’t in his right mind. Grieving, angry, desperate. He wanted to blame everyone, including himself for what happened. He’d lost his baby. And when he came to me for comfort, I couldn’t turn him away. I could never turn him away.”
Blue knew that feeling. He had it for Emily. Couldn’t imagine denying her anything. And yet, hell . . . he’d been doing just that since they met. Denying her himself.
“And later?” he pressed. “After Mrs. Cavanaugh passed and the brothers left, why couldn’t you be together?”
“Everett actually asked me to marry him.” She was watching Blue intently. “But here’s the thing, honey: if I said yes, the whole town would suspect our affair, and you . . .” She shook her head. “It was better the way it was.”
Oh, Christ . . . so she had been protecting him. Or at least, believed that’s what she was doing. They could’ve waited a year and done it. No one would’ve known . . . He sighed. So much life wasted. For everyone in this family.
“I was going to tell you after Everett died,” she said, blinking back tears. “I was. But the will was read right after the funeral. Lord only knew why Everett would put such a thing in there . . . such a shock . . .” She burst into tears. “Oh, Blue, I’m so desperately sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He stood up and went to her, gathered her in his arms. “Mama, it’s okay. We’re done with this. All of this. Looking backward, neither one of us can see what’s right in front of our faces. All the good.”
She clung to him, let him hold her like she’d held him so many times before. “I really like her, Blue,” she whispered.
He smiled. “I think I might love her.”
Elena Perez released him then and eased back. Her eyes found his and held. “Does she know?”
“Not yet. And it’s gonna take more than words for her to believe me.”
“Usually does, son. Usually does.” She cocked her head to the side and studied him. “But you have a plan, don’t you?”
“More like an idea,” he admitted.
“Care to run it by me?”
“You got the time?”
Her smile was so bright, so warm as she led him over to the couch. “Always, son. Always.”
* * *
Three hours. That’s all the sleep Emily had managed to get last night. And even the coolish shower she’d taken this morning wasn’t managing to wake her tired butt up.
It was all Blue’s fault, she reasoned, throwing on a dark gray long-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans. He’d made her face the truth. About him, about them. About what she wanted, and what she wouldn’t allow in her life. Reality was flippin’ painful to face sometimes.
She headed into the kitchen and grabbed a banana from the bowl on the counter. There were a few times last night, and even this morning, when she’d wondered if she’d been too harsh with him—on him. Had she completely driven him away with her rant on choice and past and forgiveness—and his mother? The banana tasted weird. Pregnancy, maybe? She put it down and drank an entire bottle of water instead. It was dangerous to involve yourself in someone else’s battle, but a mother and child . . . that could be disastrous. Thing of it was, she was going to be a mother herself soon, and to see another mother going through such pain . . . didn’t sit right. Wasn’t right. No. Pushing had been needed. Blue was holding on to the past so tightly, all the blood was leaving his rational mind and rushing to his hands. He deserved the peace that forgiveness brought. She cared that much about him.
Enough to piss him off.
Enough to push him away.
Speaking of mothers, Emily thought, packing up her uniform and grabbing her keys. She’d promised hers that she’d stop by this morning before work. Susie had a couple of boxes of kitchen supplies she wanted to give to Emily. And there was nothing Em was loving more than free stuff and hand-me-downs.
Heading out the door, she was so tired she nearly tripped over a small square box that had been placed there. What in the world? She stared at it. Light green, red ribbon, card. Oh . . . Her heart lurched in her chest. The good, happy, excited lurching. Without even inspecting it, she knew it had to be from Blue.
A soft smile touched her mouth as she bent down to pick it up. What could it be? Looked like it would hold half a dozen cookies or a rolled-up scarf. But why would he give her any of those things? After what had happened last night, whatever it was would be an attempt to mend fences or assure her that he was thinking differently. That he understood the gravity of what he’d lose if he didn’t forgive—if he kept on clinging to past secrets and lies.
Maybe it was something for the baby, she thought, carrying it inside and over to the counter. She grabbed the scissors out of the drawer and cut off the ribbon. Maybe a onesie or a baby toy. Stuffed animal? Her smile widened as she lifted the lid. A soft little horse would be so adorable—
But it wasn’t any of those things. Wasn’t anything for the baby. Oh my God . . . She looked closer at the thing cushioned inside some white tissue paper. It couldn’t be.
Her mind reeled backward. Weeks ago. That night. That incredible first night that started it all. He’d kept it. All this time.
She reached in and lifted out the yellow flower with the burnt-red center—the flower she’d grown herself in the garden at her parents’ home—the flower that had been in her hair the night she’d taken him home. The night she’d made love to him. The night they’d conceived their child.
Her breath caught and held in her lungs. Oh, Blue . . . It was dried perfectly, not flattened at all. Preserved. And tied to the stem ever so gently was a note. Her eyes moved over the text in a ravenous, covetous way.
Do you remember? I do. I will never forget. Come back. I’ll be waiting.
Her heart pounding deliciously, hopefully, Emily didn’t think. About his past or their future. She just wanted to see him. Needed to. It was their beginning—then and now.
She called and left a hasty message on her mother’s answering machine, then grabbed her car keys and flew out the door.
Twenty-seven
“You need nails or rope or something?” Deputy Shiver asked.
Deacon wasn’t a frequent visitor to RB Hardware, but when Sheriff’s Deputy Steven Shiver had called and asked him to meet there, he’d canceled his flight back to Dallas and headed straight into town.
“No nails, no rope,” Deacon answered, joining the man near a wall of paint chips. “I only need to know why I’m here.”
It was a good thing that Shiver appreciated candor. “Natalie Palmer went to see Blue at the Triple C.” His brows knit together. “Know anything about that?”
Deacon regarded the Deputy Sheriff. “Are you suggesting something?”
“Just curious. Triple C land. Your family’s land. Thought you might have some awareness of what goes on.”
The fact that Natalie Palmer, the woman Deacon believed responsible for his sister’s death, had even breathed Triple C air made his insides roll with disgust. And maybe he’d just have a few words with Blue to find out what was behind that. Invitation or no. Deal with it “in the family,” so to speak.
“I’m betting that Natalie still thinks there’s something between her and Blue,” Deacon said. “And she went over to the Triple C to talk to him.”
“That’s pretty damn brazen,” Steven remarked.
“Well, isn’t she?” Deacon said with a sniff.
A young woman looking for paint samples sidled up next to them. Shiver gestured for Deacon to follow him over to the front of the store.