Yes! Hope bit back the exclamation and managed to say fairly levelly, “Only if I want to get back into the room he’s letting me use. I didn’t know so I locked the door when I came over.”
Zee frowned. “He didn’t give you a key?”
Hope blinked. “Why would he? I’m a stranger, I could steal him blind.”
Zee gave her a smile that was achingly said. “He doesn’t worry about theft much. He’s already lost the most important thing he ever had.”
His wife. Hope didn’t know what to say. After a moment Zee went on briskly.
“I’m sure he meant to. He must have forgotten, when this call came in. It is kind of a big deal, and if he helps out now they’ll keep him in mind for the future. Anyway, I’ve got a key. Or heck, use the inside door.”
Hope hesitated, then shook her head. “That’s. . .yours. Between you two. He explained how it works.”
“Did he now? That’s interesting.”
Hope had no idea why a simple explanation of respecting boundaries would be so interesting, but Zee seemed to think it was.
On the other hand, she knew exactly why she was breathing easier now. And it had nothing to do with knowing she could get back into her room. And everything to do with know there would be some breathing space between her and True Mahan, at least for a while.
Chapter Fifteen
Only once he was gone did Hope realize how much of her attention and awareness True seemed to automatically draw. She didn’t feel relaxed, exactly, more. . .at loose ends. Or in limbo. A holding pattern, as if everything was hovering, waiting until the center of gravity returned and everything went back to normal.
She spent a quiet night in his house, mostly reading. It was a pleasure she’d not often had, and she tried her best to savor it. She’d finished the first Sam Smith book and moved on to the second, eager to see what happened next even as she ached inside for the brave boy who had become as real to her as any living, breathing one.
She went to bed early, and for a while lay there thinking how odd it was that she should be more relaxed in a strange, empty house than when its owner was present. But then she pictured that owner, and sleepily decided it made perfect sense after all.
The next day went much the same, and she made great progress on the big box of papers. This time at the end of the day she declined Zee’s hurried offer of a meal, realizing the woman was getting ready to go out somewhere. Wondered idly what kind of man would risk taking on her protective big brother.
And only found out when Zee paused to look at her consideringly that it wasn’t a date at all.
“You know, Kelsey wouldn’t mind at all if you came with me.”
Hope blinked. “What?”
“She really liked how you were with her new horse the other day. She said it was clear you were a little afraid, but that you recognized Shadow was more scared than you.”
“I. . .it was fun,” Hope said. “I’ve never been that close to a horse before.”
“Welcome to Texas,” Zee said with a grin that reminded Hope of her brother. “Anyway, it’s a bridal shower for Kelsey. Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“It’s not for the usual stuff. It’s for stuff for the rescue. Equipment they need, gift cards for feed, that kind of thing.”
Hope had only met Kelsey briefly, but she already knew how much her work meant to her. “What a great idea!”
“It was Declan’s. He knows his woman.” The grin flashed again. “I’m giving her True.”
Hope blinked. “What?”
“She needs a new corral. Others are giving her the materials, I’m giving her him to build it.”
Hope couldn’t help laughing. “Does he know this?”
“Not yet. I’ll spring it on him when it’s done and he can’t back out. Not that he would. He’d never let Kelsey—or Declan—down.”
“I think,” Hope said seriously, “he’d never let anyone down.”
Zee gave her a long, assessing look. “No, he wouldn’t. If you have him on your side, he’ll go down with you before he’ll let you crash.”
Hope told herself there hadn’t been any pointed message for her particularly in that. And she was tempted, seriously tempted, to accept Zee’s offer. Spending an evening among people honoring a friend, someone she barely knew but already liked, was something she hadn’t experienced in a long time. But deep down she knew it would only give this place a greater hold on her, and it was already tugging at her with useless hopes and silly dreams.
And so she spent another night alone in True Mahan’s home. And this time, before settling in with her book, she spent some time looking around, not in a nosy, taking advantage of him being gone sort of way, but in a trying to understand the man way. And she told herself it was not prurient interest that had her peeking into the master bedroom, merely curiosity.
It both surprised her and confirmed what she’d expected, in those weak moments when she allowed herself to wonder; it was like the rest of his home, masculine, but not harshly so. Also like the rest, the colors were light and bright, almost cheerful. The floor was a subtle shade of gray wood, polished and smooth and sleek looking. No flower prints here, but long blue and white striped drapes at the windows. One tall chest of drawers beside a door that was probably a closet. One nightstand. Only one, she noted, with a couple of books, a lamp, and a small wood tray with a slightly off kilter dog carved into the side.
And the bed.
The heavy four-poster in wood that had the same gray tones as the flooring seemed huge to her, but as the image of True hovered in her mind, as it was wont to do, she realized he would need a bed that size. Even if he did sleep alone, as the one nightstand seemed to indicate.
She stared at the tossed bedding; he hadn’t bothered with making it when he’d needed to get rolling early. The cover was a blue and white plaid that blended well with the drapes. She stifled the urge to tidy it, because then when he got back she’d have to explain not only why she’d done it, but why she’d been in his room to begin with.
Yet the itch to touch, to see if a trace of his warmth lingered, was almost overwhelming. Had he picked the furnishings himself, or had Zee had a hand in it?
Or. . .Amanda?
She backed out of the room abruptly, calling herself several choice names for poking her nose where it didn’t belong and getting it singed. And for letting her mind wander down paths she wasn’t free to walk.
She put it—and him—out of her mind as she went back to work the next morning. Zee was still yawning, her usually stylishly tousled hair looking a bit flat this morning.
“Good party?” she asked.
Zee smiled. “A bit too good. And late. If I’m cranky, I apologize in advance.”
“Accepted in advance.” She wanted to ask if she’d heard from her brother, if he was on his way home. But she didn’t. Even if it was a natural question.
A while later she was down to where she could actually see the bottom of the large box. She might even have this done today, if True got home in time to explain this last batch of random receipts from the bottom of the box. She sorted them as best she could, by date, matching purchase receipts with delivery receipts, and where she could matching up the addresses with job sites Zee knew. But there were many where he’d had the materials delivered here, and apparently taken them to the job himself, and those would have to wait in the hopes he’d remember what went where.
“Oh,” Zee said at one point when she was passing by with a coffee refill and glanced at what Hope was holding, “pull those out. Those are for this place.”
“This place? Oh, you mean when you divided it?”
She nodded. “Didn’t make much sense to me to each keep renting our own place when we owned this outright. True was doing the upkeep anyway, when we had it rented out. And it was big enough, with room to expand where necessary. So I talked to True and he agreed, and came up with the plan to divide it. Took some rearranging of space, building a second kitchen and adding a coupl
e of bathrooms, but it’s worked out perfectly for us.”
“Helps that you get along,” Hope said, all the while her mind racing as she looked at the dates on the paperwork she was holding. Realized what it meant. They had done this, moved into this house, after his wife had died.
Amanda Mahan had never lived under that roof. She felt a spurt of relief, followed immediately by a stab of guilt; it was a horrible thing to be glad about. Not to mention it was none of her business. She fought to listen to Zee.
“Yes. Although we didn’t always. When he had on the parent hat instead of the brother one.”
“That must have been. . .hard. For both of you.”
“We clashed, inevitably. I’m just forever glad my brother had the fortitude to do it. I don’t know where I’d be without him. And I like having him close.” Zee laughed then, waving at the wall that separated the two halves. “But not too close.”
“You’d never know it wasn’t originally this way.”
“That’s True,” Zee said. “And if we ever want to sell it, he’ll just wall up that door.”
“As long as that’s the only reason he’d do it.”
“True? No, he’s the original slow burn. That’s why he tolerates my quick temper so well.” She smiled. “Besides, he loves me. He’d never do that no matter how mad he got.”
Hope had nothing to say to that. She went back to work on the last of the papers. More evidence of True’s versatility. Everything from building wheelchair ramps to repairing the sign announcing you were entering Whiskey River. A sudden image flashed through her mind, of a couple of old cowboys standing there pondering a truck crashed into that sign, one of them rubbing his chin, the other drawling “Better call True.” And it wouldn’t surprise her in the least to find out that would be the reaction anytime anything needed fixing in Whiskey River.
She set the papers dealing with the wheelchair ramps aside until she found the labor estimate that should go with them. On top of them went another page without that charge listed, and she wondered if perhaps these, being fairly early on, he’d been paid in cash for. And then she read the details on the page she’d just set down.
“You’re laughing,” Zee said, and Hope realized indeed she was.
“Did he really,” she asked, holding up one of the last sheets of paper, “install a fairy fountain?”
“Yes, he did,” Zee said, but she wasn’t laughing in turn. At all. “For the Avila’s little girl, Lucy. Outside her bedroom window, where she could see it. And he went by every week to make sure it was working. She adored him for it.”
Now she felt a rush of something other than laughter, that sort of warmth she’d felt more often since being here than she could remember since her grandparents.
“Of course she did. That’s sweet,” she said. Then Zee’s last words registered. Past tense. “Adored?”
“Yes. She died eight months after he put it in. Leukemia.”
“Oh.” It all made a very sad sort of sense now. “That’s awful.” Not sure what to do or say, she just stared down at the page. And suddenly realized there wasn’t really anything missing.
“He didn’t charge them, did he? For installing it.”
“No. He wouldn’t.” Zee sighed. “It was the only time I’ve seen my brother cry except when Amanda died.”
Somehow that made it worse. Made her feel worse. Made her wish she’d never said anything, or seen the page at all. How on earth had he dealt with so much loss and stayed sane? Let alone become the kind, generous man he was?
Because he’s much, much stronger than you are.
It was a long, silent moment before she was able to meet Zee’s eyes and ask, “Why did you tell me that?”
“So you would know,” Zee said, in a tone that was nothing less than ominous, “why I would do anything to keep my brother from being hurt again.”
As warnings went, that one was too blunt to be mistaken. “I would never hurt him. He’s been too good to me.” She meant every word of it.
“I believe you wouldn’t mean to,” Zee said. “I don’t think you’re going to rip him off, or slit his throat in the middle of the night, but you’re not telling him the truth, either. Not all of it, anyway.”
She couldn’t deny that, at least not believably. “I. . .can’t. It’s for the best, it really is.”
“Finding out he misjudged you would hurt him. But he’d get over that. But if you bring whatever it is you’re running from down on him, I promise you I will not get over it.”
Hope met True’s fierce little sister’s gaze, saw the truth of her words there. Wondered what it must be like to have a sibling like that. Didn’t wonder what it took to inspire such loyalty and love, for hadn’t she been dealing with the walking, breathing inspiration for five days now?
Only five days. Had it really been? She felt as if her entire life had shifted, changed irrevocably. And the last time that had happened, it had sent her on this mad run.
She had a sudden vision of exactly that, of what she was running from crashing in on True. How could she possibly be so certain what this man she’d only know five days would do? But she was. He would stand. True Mahan would always stand.
“I’ll be gone when this is done, as agreed,” she promised.
“Finish it early, and I’ll see you’re paid as agreed,” Zee said.
Hope nodded, even as some hidden part of her protested, as if she’d had her heart set on at least that promised two weeks in this place—with this man—who drew her so.
“Good,” Zee said briskly. “Now to that end, I need you to go into town again. The dedicated scanner I ordered for this has come in, go pick it up, please.”
“All right.”
“Keys are on the rack.”
“Your car?”
Zee gave her a wry smile. “It’s big. I didn’t expect you to carry it back walking.”
Hope’s head came up. “If you did, I would try.”
Zee studied her for a moment, oddly as if she’d just noticed something. “Yes,” she said slowly, “I believe you would.”
Hope had the car keys in hand and the door open when Zee spoke again.
“And more than anything, Hope?” She turned back. “Do not make my brother fall in love with you, not when you’re just going to leave.”
Hope stared, speechless for a moment. Then the old bitterness rose up in her, a bitterness born of the immutable knowledge that she had brought all this on herself with her own at best misguided at worst downright stupid actions.
She finally found her voice. “Oh, I’m sure he’s much, much too smart for that.”
But as she got in the car and headed toward town, she couldn’t help wondering what had made Zee think that was even a distant possibility.
Chapter Sixteen
Hope stood looking up at the statue above the fountain, then at the colorful pamphlet in her hand. Ronan “Booze” Kelly. What a name. She wondered if there was a written history of the guy somewhere, the story of how he’d seized an opportunity, supplied what he saw as a necessity—as in the Texas of that day it might well have been, and for that matter might still be—started a town, and today stood guard over his creation.
And then she laughed at herself, standing here in this strange—well, not so strange now—place reading a tourist brochure and looking at a statue of the town’s founder. But odder still was simply standing out here in the open like this, instead of hiding. But the general knowledge that she was working for True Mahan was like a protective dome around her, it seemed.
She leaned over, trailed her fingers through the water of the fountain. It wasn’t hot out—that, she’d been assured, would come soon, this was Texas after all—but the cool water still felt good, soothing somehow.
“Watch out for the sharks!”
She managed not to jump. The young voice that called out to her belonged to a small, towheaded boy peeking at her from the other side of the statue. She smiled at his mischievous grin. She looked down at t
he water consideringly.
“Little shallow for sharks,” she said, her expression serious.
He leaned around further. “Alligators, then.”
“Piranha maybe?”
The boy’s grin widened. He came out from behind the statue. He looked about ten or twelve to her, not that she was any judge.
“It would keep the tourists away,” the boy said.
“You don’t like tourists?”
He shrugged. “Depends. Are you one?”
I’ve never been a tourist anywhere. “No. I’m working here for a while.”
He considered that for a moment as he looked her over. She saw his gaze snag on her left wrist. The tattoo.
“I know you,” the boy declared. “You’re the lady helping out Mr. True.”
She hadn’t been called a lady in a while, but she wasn’t about to quibble with a kid over it. So instead she focused on the rest. “Mr. True?”
The boy grimaced. “He says I can call him True, but my mom says I have to call him mister because he’s a grown-up.”
“Sounds like you found a equitable solution.”
The boy frowned. “What’s that mean?”
“That it works for everyone.”
“Oh. Yeah.” He seemed to like this, and finally came all the way around the edge of the fountain. Apparently True held sway even with the shorter set in Whiskey River. The boy climbed up on the edge of the fountain, which put him much closer to eye level with her. “My name’s Adam.”
No last name, she noticed. Was that because kids didn’t think it important, or because he didn’t want her to know? Stop it. Not everybody’s hiding who they are like you. Especially not a little kid.
“Nice to meet you, Adam,” she said, and when, to her surprise, the boy held out his hand, she shook it. “I’m Hope.”
“I know.” She must have looked startled because he shrugged. “Everybody knows everything around here. News goes faster’n greased lightning, my gramma says.” He eyed her wrist again. “I like your tattoo. I want to get one.”
Liked it, or that she had it? she wondered. “I don’t, anymore.”
Whiskey River Runaway (Whiskey River Series Book 2) Page 10