Only You
Page 14
“No!”
The word sounded more like a cannon shot than an answer to her question.
“Why not? I know it wouldn’t be the same, but’ you’d still be working with the land.”
“You don’t understand,” Dillon nearly shouted at her. “To you, this place is a big house that needs work. To me, it’s memories, where I grew up, where I fell down and skinned my knees, where I hid when I was hurt.
“It’s the same with the land. You see it as so many training rings, obstacle courses, potential tracks and fields to grow your hay and oats. To me it’s where I come from, where I belong.
“All people like you care about is the bottom line, profit or loss. You can’t offer me a piece of this place, expect me to love it and tend it, then tear off another piece when you’re ready. It’s like watching something I love die a little at a time.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t understand.”
“No, you didn’t, and people like you shouldn’t even try. You should stay in your cities where you don’t need memories or feelings about land and houses and trees.”
Angie was so angry she started to shake. It made her even more angry that she felt like crying. If she didn’t get away from Dillon, she was going to burst into tears.
“I didn’t make that offer to hurt you. It may have been ill-advised, but it was well-intentioned.” She gathered up the reins. “It’s true that I don’t love any land or house the way you love this place, but I like to think I’m capable of such feelings.”
She backed her horse up. “You needn’t worry that I’ll force myself on you a moment longer. Give me an hour and I’ll be out of your house.”
She turned toward the barns and dug her heels into the horse’s side.
“Wait!”
But she couldn’t. How could she have fooled herself into thinking Dillon had any special feeling for her? At least now she had the answer to her question about whether he might pretend to like her as a way of holding on to his farm. He didn’t like her at all, and not even his farm was inducement enough to make him pretend he did.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DILLON’S EMOTIONS were at war with themselves. He couldn’t believe Angie would make such an offer. How could the woman who was so sensitive to Christine be so blind to his needs? She might as well have asked him if he wanted to watch while she cut his heart out
At the same time, he knew she had tried to do something to ease his pain. She just didn’t understand that nothing could do that, not if he lost his farm. But she had tried. He had to catch her and tell her he appreciated that.
Angie had no intention of letting him catch up, however. As he drew closer, she urged her mount into a gallop. When he narrowed the gap, she pressed the horse into a full-out drive. She was looking over her shoulder when her horse stepped into a rut, unbalancing her. Before she could right herself, the horse veered and jumped a mud hole.
Dillon realized to his horror that Angie was falling out of the saddle.
He watched helplessly as she tumbled end over end into a hay field. He was out of the saddle before his mount could come to a stop. He hurtled through the tall grasses to where she lay. His heart nearly stopped beating when he realized she wasn’t moving. He would never forgive himself if she was hurt.
He knelt beside her. She lay on her side, and none of her limbs were at an awkward angle, but falling into a hay field didn’t provide much cushion. He could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. At least she was alive. He put his arm under her to lift her up.
“Don’t move me,” she said without opening her eyes. “I deserve to be left in a hay field. It seems a suitable punishment for such a shocking display of ineptitude.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. Worry for Angie had overcome his anger. He saw only the woman he had hurt, and he was ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry. I never could control my tongue when I’m angry.”
“Forget it. I shouldn’t have made such an offer. It was insensitive.”
She looked so helpless lying there, so vulnerable. He didn’t know how he could have gotten so furious at her.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“Only my pride.”
“Lie still,” he said. He lifted each arm and then each leg to make certain nothing was broken. “How about your ribs? Does it hurt when I touch them?”
“No, but it tickles,” Angie said. “Unless you want me knocking all your hay down, you’d better leave my ribs alone.”
Dillon was so relieved nothing was broken his mood turned buoyant. He was so relieved he kissed her.
Angie looked shocked but not displeased. “You’re certainly a man of swiftly changing moods. Just a moment ago I would have sworn you were ready to kill me. Now you’re kissing me.”
“I don’t see any conflict there.”
“That’s what I don’t understand. Most people would have to clear out one emotion before they could deal with the other. You can juggle several at once.”
He’d been juggling conflicting emotions from the moment he met her. Only now the emotions had changed. He settled into the hay next to her. “Haven’t you ever been angry with someone you found attractive?”
“Yes, but I can’t recall kissing them at the same time I wanted to wring their necks.”
“You’ve missed a lot.”
“So it seems.” She smiled a smile that was like the sun coming out after a rainstorm. “Kiss me again.”
He smiled back. “Why?”
“I’ve never been kissed lying in the middle of a hay field. The novelty hasn’t worn off yet.”
Dillon found that an easy request to fulfill. She looked adorable half buried in hay. A green stain on each knee. Hair out of place. Her shirt torn at the elbow and a couple of scratches on her arm.
She lay back on the hay, invitation in her eyes. Dillon leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips.
“I’m not that fragile,” she said. “If a tumble from a horse didn’t break me, I don’t think another kiss will.”
Dillon lay down next to her, pulled her to him and kissed her hard on the mouth. He couldn’t believe how good it felt to hold her in his arms. She felt slender and fragile, warm and soft. But she kissed him back with all the energy and hunger of a strong, self-confident woman.
He kissed her again, letting his tongue invade her eager mouth. He’d never kissed anyone lying in the middle of a hay field with the sun warming his limbs, the crushed green stalks cushioning his head. It was a deliciously decadent experience. Maybe that accounted for the unanticipated feeling that he could never get enough of this woman, that there was something different about her.
There was nothing coy about Angie’s pleasure in his embrace. She responded to him eagerly. It seemed so natural, so easy. She made him feel better about himself than he had in years.
Angie’s sudden laugh broke the spell. “I can’t believe I’m lying in the middle of a hay field kissing a man I hardly know. If my stepfather could see me now, he’d have me locked up.”
“Is there some other place you’d rather kiss me?”
She laughed again, and something tight and hard inside him seemed to unravel.
“That isn’t the point. I’m a serious, organized, systematic, rational business executive. I don’t do anything without thinking it through several times. I don’t even buy underwear on impulse. Yet here I am—”
“I’m here, too.”
“I know, but you’re as changeable as spring weather.” Her expression turned solemn. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know. Are you frightened?”
“A little.”
“Me, too.” That was a lie. He was petrified. “Do you want to go?”
She shook her head. “What do you want to be happening?”
“I’m not sure I can put it into words.” He’d always boxed his feelings up, locked them away, tried to ignore them.
“Try anyway.”
He was afraid to try. Suppose he got it wrong? �
�Ever since I can remember, I’ve felt misplaced, like I should have been put somewhere else. Now I feel as if I just might be in the right place after all.”
“Because of me?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. I don’t understand it yet.”
“But you’re sure it’s because of me?”
“Yes.”
Her smile was warmer than the sun, sweeter than the breeze. “That’s enough. I can wait for the rest.”
She pulled him down to her, into a passionate embrace. He could stay here forever, holding her close, kissing her soft lips, loving the feel of her body against his own. But mere mortals are seldom allowed to linger in paradise. His enjoyment was interrupted by the sound of an engine. He sat up quickly. “Someone’s coming.”
Angie sighed. “That’s the trouble with having a lot of people working for you. There’s always somebody peeping around the corner.”
Dillon stood up and waved at the truck. “It’s Shep.”
Angie got to her feet. She was stiff, a little slow to move out of the field, but she was clearly uninjured.
Shep stopped the farm pickup. “Nearly gave me a heart attack when those horses came trotting down the lane,” he said as he slid from the seat. “You two all right?”
“He didn’t fall. I did,” Angie said. “But not hard enough to do any more than hurt my pride.”
“Let me help you in,” Dillon said, leading Angie around to the passenger side.
“Ouch,” she said as she hoisted herself into the truck. “Walking’s a lot easier than climbing.”
“What you need is some liniment rubbed all over you,” Shep said, his eyes dancing with mischief.
“I’d smell like a horse,” Angie replied with a laugh. “I think I’ll try a hot bath first.”
“Suit yourself,” Shep said, “but liniment does it every time. It’ll be no trouble to bring a bottle to your room.”
“I’m casting my vote for the bath,” Dillon said, glaring at his friend. “I have to eat at the same table with her.”
Dillon and Shep climbed in on either side of Angie, and they bounced their way to the barn. They rolled up to the house just as Harper’s car came up the drive.
Christine stomped out of the car the instant it stopped. She slammed the door with a fierce shove. Harper looked troubled as she got out. Christine stormed toward the porch.
“Christine, couldn’t you at least speak to Angie and your father?” Harper asked.
Christine whirled on them as she reached the top of the front steps and cried out, “No! I hate Collins! I hate this stupid farm! And I want to go live with Grandma and Grandpa Stringfellow!” Then she turned and ran into the house.
“Young lady—” Dillon started, alarm making his voice stern.
Harper’s hand on his arm stopped him. “Give her a few minutes to calm down.”
“Mom, she can’t be allowed to act like that.”
“I know, but you’re in the wrong mood to correct her.”
“Then you do it.”
“I tried all the way home from school.”
“Well, somebody has to talk to her, and there’s nobody left but Shep.”
“Not this cowboy,” Shep said, backing toward the truck. “I vote for Angie. I can tell you now, she’d sure turn my mood around in a hurry.”
Angie? Dillon bristled at the idea. It would be an admission of his failure. But if Angie could get through to Christine as she had the night before, it would be worth it. “Would you?” he asked.
“I don’t really know much about children,” Angie said, clearly hesitant. “And I don’t want to intrude.”
“You won’t. Please.” That was one of the hardest words Dillon had ever said.
“What happened?” he asked Harper as Angie started toward the house.
“I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me.”
He looked toward his daughter’s bedroom window. “Maybe I ought to go up. This isn’t Angie’s problem.”
“You’re upset. She won’t talk to you when you’re like this.”
“I have a right to be upset. And Christine needs to learn that she can’t talk to people like that. Mom—”
“I agree, son, but you’ve got to go about teaching her those things in a different way. She’s a wounded child, and you’re not helping when you’re harsh with her.”
“But Angie can help,” Shep said. He’d never been slow to point out Dillon’s mistakes with his daughter. “I watched her with Christine the other day, riding. She seems to work miracles with her.”
“She’s too much like Evelyn,” Dillon said, his back up now. “Rich, beautiful and used to getting her way.”
“I like her,” Shep said. “You could do worse, you know.”
Dillon’s demon of anger pushed him hard. “And what do you think she’d say if she found out I was a bastard as well as a lousy father?”
Harper’s face turned white.
“Lots of women these days have babies without getting married,” Shep said. “Maybe Angie wouldn’t care, not if she was sweet on you.”
Dillon felt heat rise in his face. He’d sworn never to mention that in his mother’s presence. If he didn’t get a grip on his temper, she’d be as angry with him as Christine was.
CHRISTINE SAT on her bed, Mrs. Stuart clutched in her arms. She didn’t glance up when Angie entered the room. Angie sat down next to her.
“Things didn’t go well at school today, did they?”
Christine hid her face in the folds of Mrs. Stuart’s dress.
“That bad?”
Still no answer.
“When things used to go badly for me, I’d saddle my pony and ride until my daddy got home. Then I’d throw myself into his arms and he would hold me until everything was better.”
Christine gripped her doll more tightly.
“What happened?” Angie asked.
Angie remembered how tough it had been when her own mother died. She’d been older than Christine, too. For nearly a year her stepfather had taken her with him everywhere. He’d never told her he didn’t have time. By the time she’d recovered, Angie had come to depend on him more than she’d depended on her mother.
“Daphne Louise hates me,” Christine said.
“Why?”
“She’s always telling me how important her granddaddy is, that people like him a whole lot better than they like Grandma Harper ‘cause he owns the bank. She says she’s always bringing expensive presents to school to show everybody. She says that proves her grandparents are richer than mine. But Daddy won’t let me take my presents to school. He says it’s rude to show off. He says it hurts people’s feelings.”
“He’s right.”
Christine’s grip on Mrs. Stuart didn’t slacken. “Then why does Daphne Louise do it?”
“Not everyone has such good manners as you. What else did Daphne Louise do?”
“She said my daddy doesn’t have a daddy. She says when Grandma loses all her money, we’re going to have to go away.”
Angie was amazed at the cruel things children said to each other. She wrapped her arms around Christine, doll and all. She knew Christine didn’t really understand the slur against her father. It was having to leave Weddington Farms that frightened her.
But the ugly little rumor wasn’t the kind of thing a child would make up; Daphne Louise must have heard that tale from someone else. Angie wondered if Dillon had heard it, too, and how far something like that would go toward making a man gruff and alienated.
“People say awful things just to be mean. They used to say things about my father, too. It used to make me cry.”
“You cried?” Christine asked in surprise.
“Oh, yes. Then I learned not to believe anything until I talked to my father.” Angie figured she didn’t need to explain that she was talking about her stepfather, that her real father had deserted her when she was just a child.
Christine was silent.
“Why?”
“Because you hurt his feelings when you said you didn’t want to live with him. Just like Daphne Louise hurt you. You don’t want to do that, do you?”
Angie could tell this was a new concept for Christine.
“Do all grown-ups get hurt?” she asked.
“Yes. Sometimes a whole lot worse than when they were little.”
This appeared to be more than Christine could believe.
“Now, go down and give him a hug and tell him you love him. He cares for you very much.”
Christine was reluctant, but once she started to move, she didn’t hang back. She marched downstairs and did as Angie had told her. The words sounded as if she’d learned them by rote, but she said them. Angie just hoped she’d soon be able to believe them.
DILLON HADN’T EXPECTED to see Christine again until dinner. She often sulked for hours. He was stunned when she came downstairs, announced she loved him and told him to bend down so she could hug him. His reaction was immediate. He picked her up and hugged her tight.
Christine wiggled to get down long before he was ready to let her go. “I’ve got to go change,” she said. “It’s time for Angie to help me with my jumps.”
Christine ran back to the house, but she looked over her shoulder before she went inside. Dillon wanted to believe it was a warmer look than she’d ever given him before.
Dillon looked to where Angie stood on the steps. He didn’t know what to do about this woman. With one hand she was trying to take away his home. With the other she was trying to give his daughter back. He feared she was too much like Evelyn, but he felt himself wanting her more each day, needing her more each day.
She smiled at him, a crooked, sweet, half-apologetic smile. That’s pretty much how he felt inside.
What the hell was he going to do!