“I don’t understand.” He blinked like he totally didn’t get it. “Do what?”
“Be with you.”
He grasped her wrist. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
She twisted her arm away. “Do you really have to ask?”
His face fell. “Yes, I do. I thought things were going great.”
She could barely meet his gaze. It hurt so much to break off with him, but better now than later. At least she’d never told him she loved him. That was some small consolation. “If you are that obtuse, spelling it out for you isn’t going to change a thing.”
“How can I fix it if you won’t talk to me?”
“That’s just the thing. I don’t want to fix it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to take this any further.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed frantically as he gulped. “You don’t mean that.”
“Pierce, we’re not compatible. You’re accustomed to the jet set life and I’m a simple country girl. I thought when the Cowboys let you go that, well, we had a chance.”
“We do.”
She shook her head. “Just because you’re not in a Dallas Cowboy uniform doesn’t mean the women are going to stop throwing themselves at you.”
“They can throw, I’m not going to catch them. You’re the one I want to be with, Lace. No one but you.”
This was so hard, but she could not cave. She had to get out while she still could. “I’m sorry. It’s better this way. And once your father gets better, and if he has what I think he has, he has an excellent chance for a full recovery, you’re free to go back to your life in Dallas. There won’t be anything holding you here.”
“We’re done? You’re done? Just like that?”
“I’m done,” she said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get these samples to the lab.”
FLABBERGASTED, PIERCE WATCHED her drive away, the taillights of her Corolla disappearing in the night. Did Lace blame him for Shasta showing up naked in his closet? How was that his fault?
Um, maybe because you’ve courted the playboy image for quite some time now. You fed it. You let fame go to your head. You became the cock of the walk.
Initially, he’d sought the limelight to earn Abe’s love and respect, but at some point he’d bought into his own hype. His fame, fortune, and cocky strut had attracted certain kind of women. He’d had a good time so he’d just kept strutting long after he grew tired of the show.
Guilty. He was guilty as charged. A cold shiver ran through him and a sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.
Malcolm came back outside and walked over to put a hand on Pierce’s shoulder.
“Ow.”
“Sorry.” Malcolm dropped his hand.
“You are much stronger than you look.” Pierce rubbed the spot where Malcolm had touched.
“And you’re not looking so good with only one eye.”
Pierce turned to face his brother. “I’m sorry if I’ve ever done anything to make you feel less than.”
“Wow, if I’d known all it took to humble you was a fistfight, I would have punched your lights out a long time ago.”
“You probably should have.”
“And risk the wrath of Abe for smacking his golden boy?”
“I’m sorry about that too. It wasn’t fair of Dad to treat you so differently.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m used to it.”
They stood there for a long moment not saying anything.
“I’m sorry the Cowboys dropped you. That sucks. Kicking a man when he’s down,” Malcolm said.
“Where did you hear that?”
“It was on the six o’clock news.”
“So they finally announced it.” Made it official.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” His brother’s brow knitted in a frown.
“So you could gloat?”
“So I could buy you a beer. Wanna go to Chantilly’s?”
“Looking like this?”
Malcolm stuck his hands in his front pockets. “You got a point.”
Pierce blew out his breath. Two hours ago, he’d had the world by the tail. How had everything gone to shit so quickly?
“Whatcha gonna do now?” Malcolm asked.
“Frankie’s scouting for me.”
“What if no one picks you up?”
Pierce kicked the dirt with the tip of his boot. “Is there a place for me here?”
“I always hoped you’d come home.”
Another long silence passed. A bobwhite called from the brush. The scent of the rockroses their mother had planted years ago drifted on the breeze.
“Do you really like that girl?” Pierce asked.
“Shasta?”
“Yes.”
Malcolm sighed. “I like her quirkiness.”
“She’s certainly quirky. I’ll give her that.”
“Plus I’ve always had a thing for redheads, you know that.” His brother cast him a sideways look. “Are you in love with Lace?”
“Yep.”
“Thought so. You gonna tell her?”
“I don’t know if it would do any good.”
“Are you nuts? That woman has been in love with you since eighth grade.”
“That was a crush. I’m pretty well sure she got over me.”
“Are you seriously going to take no for an answer? The great Pierce Hollister who doesn’t let anything stop him?”
Pierce grinned. “Hell no.”
AT SEVEN A.M. on Sunday, there was a knock at her back door as she sat at the kitchen table eating shredded wheat and remembering the morning after Pierce had spent the night.
Her heart leaped. Pierce! She ran to the door and flung it open to find Shasta standing there.
“Are you going to fire me?” she asked.
“Are you going to pull any more crazy stunts like that?” Lace couldn’t be too mad at the poor girl. Shasta was unschooled, unsophisticated, and she clearly did not have a good role model in her life.
Solemnly, Shasta shook her head. “No.” Her bottom lip trembled. “It hurts so bad when someone you love doesn’t love you back.”
Lace’s heart went out to her. She knew exactly what that felt like. “You don’t really love Pierce. You love the image of who he is. I know. I fell for that image too.” Twice.
“How come you wrote that letter to Hero Worshipper, telling her … that is me … to go for it?” Shasta asked.
“Because,” she said, “it is better to go for it than forever be left wondering. Now you can move on. It’s painful, yes, but at least you know where you stand. You’re no longer in limbo.”
Shasta nodded, wiped away a tear.
“Oh, and next time, don’t show up at the guy’s place and hide naked in his closet. It’s too easy for men to take advantage of a woman under those circumstances.”
Shasta hung her head. “I just wanted to show him that I could be a lot of fun.”
“There’s ways to do that without putting yourself in a compromising position.”
The girl cocked her head. “Like how?”
“I’ll get my cousin Zoey to talk to you. She’s better at spontaneous fun than I am.”
“I like Zoey. She’s cool.”
“She is.”
Shasta nibbled her bottom lip. “Do you think I blew it with Malcolm?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?”
“Maybe I will. ’Course, it’s probably no good since I got naked for his brother.”
“That might take some doing to overcome,” Lace agreed.
“Pierce was the guy, wasn’t he? The one you told me about. The one you had a crush on when you were young?”
Lace nodded.
“And you still love him.”
“I …” She couldn’t bring herself to answer her one way or the other.
“You don’t have to say it. I can see it on your face.” Shasta looked sad but resigned. “If he’s your soul mate, he can�
�t be mine.”
“He’s not my soul mate.”
“Just because you don’t believe in soul mates don’t mean it’s not true.”
Lace didn’t point out that scientifically the burden of proof was on the believer. If pressed, Shasta would dig up anecdotes that did not qualify as scientific proof but suited the girl’s beliefs. That’s how confirmation bias worked. “It doesn’t matter if he’s my soul mate or not. We’re not a good match.”
“Of course it matters. Love is the only thing that does matter,” Shasta insisted. For an uneducated girl who hid naked in strange men’s closets, she made a lot of sense. “You should take your own advice. Many people let love slip through their fingers ’cause they are simply too scared to take a chance. Be bold. Be brave.”
“You memorized my reply?”
“I was clinging hard to any hope.” Shasta pressed a knuckle against her eye and blinked hard.
Lace’s heart went out to the girl. “You’re an original, Shasta Green. You’re gorgeous and fearless. Somewhere out there the perfect guy is waiting for you.”
“Thanks for not firing me.”
“We all make mistakes.”
“You won’t regret giving me a second chance,” Shasta said staunchly, and gave a little wave as she headed out the door.
Lace let loose a heavy sigh and went about tending her plants. The routine soothed her like nothing else could.
Several times over the next few days Pierce tried to call her, but Lace refused to pick up. He left voice messages, pleading for her to call him, but she wasn’t going to let him charm his way back into her heart. He was a good guy, a great guy, but she simply couldn’t deal with his celebrity status. He might have come home to Cupid, but his world—the world of groupies and celebrity stalkers—had followed him. It always would.
She got the soil tests on Monday and as she suspected, both the copper and lead levels were off the charts. Unable to face talking to Pierce, she had the lab call both him and the hospital in San Antonio with the results.
When he didn’t show up for the last gardening class on Tuesday evening, she relaxed, thinking that yes, maybe he had accepted her at face value and he was going to stop pursuing her, but then she immediately started worrying that something bad had happened to Abe and that was why he hadn’t shown up. Had his father’s condition been too far gone to reverse? Or was there something else wrong with him entirely? She discreetly asked around town, but no one seemed to have an update on Abe’s condition.
On Thursday, her parents called and told her they’d be coming home in a few days and they would stay put until the cutting horse futurity in Fort Worth in November and December. It would be good to see them again.
“How are things with Pierce?” her mother asked.
“He gave a million-dollar endowment to the gardens.”
“You told me that the last time I called.”
“Did I?”
“Oh dear,” her mother said. “It didn’t work out between you, did it?”
“How do you know?”
“I can hear it in my children’s voices when they’re in distress. I am so sorry, honey. Would it help to talk about it?”
“Not right now. Maybe when you get home.”
“I heard the Dallas Cowboys dropped Pierce. Did that have something to do with it? You know how men’s identities are wrapped up in their jobs. You might consider giving him the benefit of the doubt until he’s had time to process this. He’s been through a lot lately.”
She let that go. “Oh, I found out what was wrong with Abe. Jay’s not the only one in the family who can make a diagnosis.”
“Really? What happened?”
She told her mother about the contaminated soil and that sidetracked Mom from the topic of her relationship with Pierce.
“You are so smart! I’m blessed with brilliant children. See you soon, honey.” Her mother blew phone kisses and hung up.
Lace had no sooner put her phone on the charger than the doorbell rang. Her foolish pulse sped up. Pierce!
Stop it! You can’t keep hoping and wishing and praying he’ll show up.
She opened the door to find a young local boy standing on her front porch holding a small box. “Hello, Tim. Are you selling band candy again?”
“Nope. A guy gave me ten bucks to deliver this to you.”
“What guy?”
“He said not to say his name.” Tim thrust the box at her and took off toward his bike parked at the curb.
Lace took the package inside, her heart doing cartwheels in her chest. With trembling fingers, she untied the wrapping to find a black velvet box. She caught her breath and opened the lid.
Nestled inside was a pair of silver and turquoise earrings of Geococcyx californianus, the greater roadrunner. Along with it was a folded strip of paper.
She unfolded it.
Did some research. You’re right. I’m a roadrunner. They mate for life.
Spontaneous tears poured from her eyes. Oh God, this was a hundred times worse than that silly incident in high school. This was exactly why she had not wanted to let down her guard. She knew this would happen. Knew in her heart that she had never really stopped loving him.
Pierce had fully lobbed the ball into her court. The question was did she dare to lob it back?
Chapter 19
Graft: the joining of two plants.
“THAT girl of yours is pretty special,” Abe said.
“She is at that.” Pierce smiled at his father, who was sitting at the kitchen table heartily enjoying his lunch. His color was good, his mind sharp, he was slowly getting back to his old self.
“If she hadn’t figured out those sweet taters was causin’ me to get sick, the doc said I might have been a goner. Funny, a plant gal figured out what a bunch of high-powered doctors couldn’t.”
“Lace is a doctor,” Pierce said, pride swelling his chest. “She has a PhD in plant biology.”
“She’s sumpthin’ else.”
Yes, she was.
“You should marry her.” Abe waved his fork.
“She broke up with me,” Pierce said, but secretly, he couldn’t help hoping that the chaparral earrings and the note he’d included would touch Lace’s heart. Sending messages instead of showing up in person was not his normal modus operandi, but with Lace, the same old, same old wasn’t going to cut it. Normally, if he wanted to get back together with a woman—which, granted, was rare in itself—he’d show up at her door, flash his patented smile and two tickets for her favorite event. It has been a never-fail scheme.
Lace was different. For one thing, she was sharp as barbwire and would see through that tactic in a nanosecond. For another thing, she wasn’t like any other woman. When it came to Lace Bettingfield, he had to throw away the rulebook. She was one in a billion.
“Still can’t believe the Cowboys dropped you.” Abe shook his head.
“Me either,” Pierce confessed. He’d been blindsided, but he shouldn’t have been. He’d allowed his ego to get out of control.
“Another team will pick you up.”
It was a long shot. Pierce understood that now. He would not have one last victory touchdown. His career had ended on a down note. It couldn’t be helped. That’s just the way things were. He was thirty, not young for a ballplayer, and weakened from his injury. Even if another team picked him up, the chances of him doing anything spectacular were tiny. His career was over. He needed to face that.
Just like his affair with Lace might be over. It had been more than twenty-four hours since he’d sent the earrings and he hadn’t heard from her. He had one last Hail Mary pass to throw in his effort to win her back. If that didn’t work, he would have lost everything.
No, not all. He still had his father and Malcolm and the ranch. That was a long sight more than many people had. He was a lucky man. Why then did he feel so shattered?
“I appreciate you being here for me, son,” Abe said. “I know I was real hard on you growing up, bu
t I was just pushin’ you to be the best ballplayer you could be.”
“I know that, Dad.”
“I’m proud of you, but not just because you played football. You’re a good son.”
“That means a lot, but Malcolm’s a good son too. You need to tell him that once in a while.”
Abe nodded.
Pierce’s cell phone rang. He fished it from his pocket. Frankie Kowalsky. “What’s up, Frankie?”
“Hold on to your Stetson, Hollister. I’ve got some major news. The Detroit Lions want you.”
“OMIGOD!” SHASTA CAME running into Lace’s office in the botanical gardens, a copy of the Cupid greensheet in her hands. “Did you see this?”
“See what?” Lace glanced up from the budget that was balancing quite nicely with money from Pierce’s generous endowment. Just thinking about him had her reaching up to touch the earring nestled in her earlobe. She’d spent the last two days trying to figure out if she fit into Pierce’s life.
“Listen to this.” Shasta cleared her throat and read, “Dear Tongue-Tied.”
Tongue-Tied? The name she’d used in her embarrassing letter to Cupid about Pierce? Lace’s hand froze on the computer mouse. “What? Give me that.” She snatched the greensheet from Shasta’s hand.
Dear Tongue-Tied,
I apologize that it has taken me twelve years to answer your letter. You are most certainly not a nobody. Never forget that you are very special. There is no one else like you. You are unique. A woman who can love with such stark intensity is a woman to be treasured. Have you ever considered that Pierce Hollister is pining for you as much as you’re pining for him? Try telling him how you feel. You just might be surprised.
Yours in love,
Cupid
Lace’s heart hammered. The words blurred on the page. She got up and marched from the botanical gardens to City Hall. Inside, she blew past the secretary and stormed into Carol Ann’s office.
“Who wrote this?” she demanded, shoving the greensheet across the desk of her startled aunt.
“I don’t know.”
“Was it Zoey?”
“Honestly, Lace, I don’t know.”
“Mignon?”
“She didn’t say anything to me about it.”
“Was it you?”
Lori Wilde - [Cupid, Texas 02] Page 24