Parker’s brain was spinning. How could Reba have kept all of this information from him? Why didn’t he know this? He would never have taken her to bed if he’d known….
Would he?
Maybe she didn’t want you to know.
“Parker?”
He turned for the door. “Stay as long as you like, Callie. There’s something I have to do.”
Something I should have done days ago.
****
Reba was in the midst of juggling a hot cookie sheet of Old-Fashioned Honey Oatmeal Cookies with her good hand while poking at her cell phone ringing on the counter with the forefinger of her bad hand when the pounding came at her front door.
She glanced to the phone. Callie.
“I’ll call you back,” she said to the phone, not answering.
The cookie sheet landed on the stovetop with a bit of a clatter—she wasn’t used to this one-handed approach to baking yet. Then she looked down the hallway toward her door. Who in the hell had ventured up to her cabin?
Wiping her hands on her apron, she went to the door, peeked out the sidelight, and saw him.
She opened the door. “Parker. Hi!” She smiled.
Her barreled past her, not smiling.
Well, hello there, Mr. Personable.
She followed him into the kitchen where he halted by the island, hands on hips, glancing from the cookies on the stove, to her laptop on the kitchen table, to the pile of paperwork beside it.
“What’s your job, Reba?”
She approached him from the side. “What are you asking me, Parker? Really.”
He turned, leaned his backside into the island, and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I didn’t know you were famous.”
Ah. The reason for Callie’s call. “I’m only famous in the foodie world. It’s nothing to get excited about.” She went back to the cookies, found a spatula, and began removing them from the cookie sheet to the clean counter to cool.
“But you didn’t tell me.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“Did you ask me about my job?”
She looked up. “Parker. Your job is obvious. You live on a ranch. You’re a rancher.”
“And yours isn’t so obvious, so why didn’t you tell me?”
She shrugged. “What does it matter?”
“It matters.”
Suddenly Reba was confused. “Why?”
“Because I want you to share things like that with me.”
Reba picked up the cookie sheet and took it to the sink, running water over it and scraping off the crusty parts. Her brain was trying to work over the puzzle of his words, and she needed a minute. What was he truly saying?
She turned. Parker was behind her. Almost too close. “There were reasons why I hadn’t mentioned it to you yet. It’s all tied up in a big circle with some other things that I’m still working through, and it was just too much to talk about. I really didn’t think it would be a big deal.”
He studied her, arms still crossed. “Are some of those other things about your husband and his recent death?”
Pain sliced through her heart. She broke away and stumbled toward the window, away from him. “Callie should not have told you.”
“She’s my sister. She thought I should know.”
Reba spun back. “I was going to tell you that. I just wanted to find the right way and time. I wasn’t ready for you to know. That was a very difficult time for me.”
He stepped closer and reached for her elbow. Reba instinctively jerked back and saw the sudden hurt in his eyes.
He paused, stopping whatever words were about to exit his mouth. For several heartbeats, they stared at each other. Finally, he said, “I understand it was a difficult time. What I don’t understand is why you let me make love to you the other night, without me knowing that you are probably still grieving the loss of your husband. Reba, this is awful soon for you.”
She turned away, walking back toward the island, and then whirled back to face him. “I’ll decide when it’s right for me to share things about my late husband and whether I have grieved long enough and whether I want to sleep with someone. That is my business, Parker, not yours. I decide.”
He dropped his gaze, staring at the floor. “Of course it is. But if I fall in love with you because of our making love and you decide later that it’s too soon for you, then it’s my business.” He paused, stepped closer, and peered down into her eyes. “Reba, I shouldn’t have made love to you. I’m sorry. You’re not ready. I’m not ready to deal with everything you have going on around you. I’m not ready to have a relationship because of everything going on around me. It’s too much for either of us to expect we can start to build a relationship until some things calm down.”
Reba swallowed. Hard. And lifted her chin. She didn’t want to hurt Parker. Had never wanted to hurt Parker. She did care for him. A lot. He was all she’d thought about for the past day and a half. But…
“Parker, I just wanted sex the other night. I wanted to feel a man’s body next to mine. I wanted the pleasure and the closeness. It had been a long time. I don’t want a relationship or a commitment. You’re right. I’m not ready for that. And it sounds like you are not ready either. So no worries.”
She hoped that set his mind at ease.
But the range of emotion that flashed over his face then said otherwise. “So, it was just sex. Just casual. Just another roll in the hay. For you.”
It almost pained her to say the next word, but she did. “Yes.”
Parker stepped back, raked his hands through his hair, and looked away. He stood there for a moment, staring off, his lips tightly pursed. Then his gaze lifted, caught hers, and he stared at her for a length of time.
Reba swore his eyes were misty.
“All right,” he said. “I get it. Good-bye, Reba.” Then he strode past her and out the door.
Out of her life.
****
For the ten minutes it took him to get to the main road, Parker fought the stinging emotion behind his eyelids. During the five minutes’ drive to his ranch entrance, he swallowed back the sting, but it was stuck in his throat.
By the time he reached the barn, he figured he could talk, so he parked and dialed Murphy’s number.
Murphy answered on the second ring.
“Yeah, boss.”
“Just listen. I don’t want to see anyone, and I don’t want to talk to anyone until tomorrow. I’m heading up to my cabin for the rest of the day and night. You know my cell phone won’t work up there. If anyone asks where I am, just tell them I need some time. And by God, do not let anyone come after me. There is a bottle of whiskey with my name on it up there, and I plan to consume every drop. If she asks, tell Liz I’ll meet her at Tom’s at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon. You can handle anything that needs handling between now and then. Got it?”
“Got it. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“I will but I doubt it. Thanks, Murphy.”
He cut off the call, drove through the back gate and up into the foothills.
Chapter Thirteen
Late that night, Reba lay in her bed, staring at the beams in the ceiling. The time was way past midnight, and she had been up since six o’clock that morning, testing out recipes for the potential show and the cookbook.
She was dead tired, but her brain wouldn’t shut down.
She spent two hours on the phone with her agent after Parker stormed out, and she was certain she had not retained a single thing they discussed. She hoped Elayne would recap in e-mail for her tomorrow, as she usually did.
She didn’t call Callie back, although Parker’s sister had tried to reach her two more times that afternoon. She just wasn’t in the mood to talk anymore.
Or think.
That’s why she went to bed. Of course, now she was wide-awake, with no chance at sleep anytime soon because her brain kept tripping over the scene in her kitchen with Parker, trying to make some sen
se of it all.
She’d been way too blunt. He was only trying to understand. He was actually trying to show her he was interested in her and for reasons beyond sex.
She had totally turned the tables and pretty much told him she was a slut. That she wasn’t interested in anything beyond sex, and good sex, thank you very much.
She’d blown it. She’d been too focused on her dreams, her goals, and just doing something to please herself. For once. She hadn’t considered his feelings or his needs, at all.
Hell’s bells. When did she become so self-centered? He’d even told her that night he was falling in love with her, and she never even acknowledged his words. She’d simply seduced him back into her body for one more go-round.
Yes. Slut.
She’d be lucky if he ever looked at her again, let alone speak to her.
“You screwed up, Reba. Big time.”
****
It was daylight, he knew that much because the heat and bright light beating down on his face had to be the sun. If he concentrated real hard, he could see the red-orange-yellow haze rimming his closed eyelids. Sunlight.
He tried to open them.
Shit. That hurt.
Parker rolled over and then startled when the empty whiskey bottle fell from the edge of the bed and clattered to the floor.
He grabbed his head. “Dammit. That hurt worse.”
Hungover. Lovely. But what did he expect?
The bottle had been full in the afternoon. He’d not eaten, of course. He’d simply wallowed in his grief and pity, moaning and bitching to himself about life and women and death and taxes and anything else he could get out of his system.
Pushing up slowly, he swung his legs around to sit on the edge of the bed. His stomach churned, and he figured he’d be sick before this morning was out. A quick glance to the clock told him the time was nearing noon. He had two hours to get sober, get cleaned up, and get into Livingston.
Not much time.
He fell back on the bed. “Good luck with that, you SOB.”
His thought of Reba. She was still there. In his head. Not the whiskey or even a pack of cigarettes had exorcised her out of his head, or his heart.
Because his heart hurt. That was the worst part. He’d been an ass again, with his twenty-question interrogation. Insisting on answers. And then…
Then her rejection both stunned and paralyzed him.
Parker rose and stumbled toward the shower. “Get it out of your goddamned system, man,” he told himself. “Too much else in your life to handle right now. Leave the woman alone and get on with it.”
He stood in the shower moments later, letting the hot water beat down on his head, neck and back. Getting Reba out of his mind was going to be impossible. She was simply there.
Somehow, he managed to get himself presentably dressed and drive down the hill toward the ranch in time to get to Livingston and meet with Tom. As he drove through the back gate and then rounded the barn, he saw all of this family standing on the porch. He pulled up close and parked.
Liz walked toward his truck.
He got out and met her halfway.
“Parker, Tom called. He’s decided we just need to go ahead and get things in motion. He would like all of us at the table this afternoon at two. Why don’t you get in the truck with Murphy and Callie? I’m riding with Brody, Stef and Mercer.”
Parker could do little else but nod and agree. “All right,” he said. He sure as hell didn’t feel like driving anyway.
If he was going to lose the ranch, it might as well be today. He was already hungover from losing the love of his life. Why not laugh at the wind and tell the gods to bring it on? He was ready.
But in fact, he knew he was not.
****
Tom Walker cleared his throat and glanced to each of the McKenna family members sitting around the table. “I’ll make this short and sweet,” he said. “And then you can ask as many questions as you like.”
“I’d rather you get straight to the point, Tom,” Liz said. The others echoed their agreement.
He nodded. “I agree. I just want to say one thing before I do. All James McKenna ever wanted was for his family to be together. And by family, he includes Murphy and Brody, even though you two are not blood McKennas. You both are part of the family by choice—his choice—and he considers you his, no matter what.
“He knew that some of you would come and go, but his dream was for everyone to have a home to come back to—a home, a place, that would forever provide for and sustain the family. And that home is McKenna Ranch. That was the reason he wanted everyone to be present at the ranch for a couple of weeks after his death. His desire was for all of you to spend time together, to get to know each other again, and to make amends for anything that had happened in the past.”
He paused to glance around the table.
“But after talking with both Parker and Liz, I’m convinced that all of the above has already happened, and I don’t see the need for you to wait any longer to learn your father’s wishes.”
He shuffled some papers. “I’m not going to read things verbatim. Liz and Parker can do that later, as co-executors of the will. I’m going over the bullet list with you now because I think you will all be pleased, and relieved, to hear it.”
Parker closed his eyes, inhaled deep, and let it out slow. His father was in his head, and his spirit was at his side.
“Regarding tract one, the acreage of land that came from Claire Parker McKenna, Callie and Parker’s mother, now known as the major acreage that makes up McKenna Ranch. This land will be deeded equally to Parker and Callie. This includes the original home built by James and Claire, all barns and outbuildings, corrals, pasture land, etc.
“Regarding tracts two and three, land that James McKenna purchased during his marriage to Claire Parker McKenna that runs adjacent to the McKenna land and backs up to the old Crandall place. Tract two, which includes Parker’s cabin in the foothills, will be equally deeded again to both Parker and Callie McKenna. Tract three will be deeded to Murphy Reynolds.
“Regarding tract four, land purchased during his marriage to Claire Parker McKenna that borders the west side of McKenna ranch and runs parallel to the Yellowstone Park border and is inclusive of the lake, lodge, fly-fishing operation, bunkhouses, corrals, and pasture—this land is deeded to Liz and Mercer McKenna and Brody Caldera.
“Regarding tract five, land purchased during James and Liz’s marriage that runs from the east side of the lake to the foothills and includes the house that Liz and James built is deeded solely to Liz McKenna.”
Tom stopped talking and looked up. “There are a couple of more items, but I’ll stop now if you have burning questions.”
No one did, so Tom moved on.
“One thing to note, that whatever debts or liens or taxes owed on these properties will be assumed by the new owner. And last. James set up a trust fund for each of you—that means for Parker, Callie, Brody, Mercer, and Murphy. There are stipulations to the trust, and one of them is that if you don’t have a home already on the ranch, you build one with this income. Your father never, ever wants you to be without a home, and he has provided for you nicely with these trusts. I have the details, who will oversee, and will go over these with you all in detail when you are ready.
“But for now, I need to know what you are thinking and if you have questions.”
Throughout Tom’s speech, a growing sense of relief flooded through Parker. Under the table, he was holding Callie’s hand, and she kept squeezing it tighter as Tom spoke.
He loved Liz and the others, but Callie was his true sister, and he couldn’t be more pleased that the land that came from their mother’s side of the family was going to remain, forever, with them. And the fact that Murphy was included with a tract of his own made things all the more sweeter for Callie.
Everything was going to be all right.
Liz spoke, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I have no questions now, Tom. I k
now you’ll need Parker and me soon. Let’s set that up so we can move forward.” And then she looked to each of the siblings and their future spouses. “I think later this evening it would be nice if we gather for dinner at my house. Let’s celebrate your father’s life, and let’s never, ever forget what he has done for us all.”
Chapter Fourteen
Three weeks later
July 1, Reba’s Cabin
“Hey, Reba, may I ask you a question?”
Reba glanced up from her whisking. “Sure, but I can’t leave this cheese sauce right now. It will burn if I walk away.”
Rising from the kitchen table, Callie brought a calendar with her. “I just want to show you how I have organized your planner.”
“Sure.”
Callie laid the book flat on the counter. “This is July,” she began, pointing to the two-page, month spread. “This is the monthly overview, and I’ve color-coded it. If there is a green dot in the square, that means you have a blog post due up that day. If it there is a yellow dot, it means you are guest posting on someone else’s blog. A blue dot means it’s a live interview. We only have one of those for July, over in Billings for the TV station there. And if it is an orange dot, those are your scheduled conference calls with the television station or your regular calls with Elayne. Does this work?”
Callie flipped the pages to the first week of the month. “Then all of the detail about the meeting, etcetera is located here.”
Reba squinted at the pages and kept whisking. She sure did love her paper planner better than the electronic one. “I like it. How will I remember what is what?”
Callie flipped the book to inside the front cover. “Here is the key. It tells you everything about the colors.”
“Oh, good.” Reba leaned to look closer. “What does red say?”
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