“Don’t think I poached him from you without any scruples. But you have to agree—I need him more than your family does right now. Besides—that young man needs some space from the Lamberts. He’s suffered a lot since that accident.”
“He blames himself, doesn’t he? But the facts are clear—he wasn’t at fault.”
“Logic has little to do with our emotions, young man. I learned that lesson long ago.”
B.J.’s plate was empty, yet she’d barely touched her dinner. Still, she stood as if the meal was over. “Want to see some pictures?”
He did. He followed her to the next room, which was dominated by a dark mahogany table and half a dozen chairs—all covered with plastic. On the wall were many photographs in ornate silver frames.
She pointed out a couple in wedding apparel. “My parents. Your grandmother and grandfather.”
He could hardly make out their features. But a later photo of the couple with a two-year-old daughter in the father’s arms was clearer. His grandmother Turner was a ringer for his own mother at that age. She was obviously pregnant, posing with her hands resting on the large mound of her baby.
“That’s the last picture we have of her.” Maddie sounded sad, even though she was talking about events that had happened over sixty years ago. “She went into labor about a month after this was taken, and, well, I’m sure you know what happened.”
He did. His grandmother had given birth to a healthy baby girl—his mother—but she herself had not survived.
“She looks so much like my mother.”
“Yes. Olive was lucky. I took after my father.” Maddie shrugged, obviously not too bothered by the fates that had made one daughter slender and pretty, the other stocky and plain.
B.J. hesitated, a question hovering in his mind. Should he just ask? Maddie seemed pretty open.
“You want to know what went wrong?” Maddie asked shrewdly. “Why two sisters got so riled up that they spent the past forty years not talking to one another?”
“Corb says it had something to do with Grandpa Turner. That our mother didn’t have a chance to say her goodbyes before he died. And that she blames you for that.”
“Really? Is that what Olive told you?” Maddie looked disgusted, then sad. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”
B.J. couldn’t accept that. “It does matter. To me, anyway.”
Maddie shook her head. “I always promised myself that if any of you kids ever made any overtures to me, I wouldn’t try to drive a wedge between you and your mother. And what would be the point now, anyway?”
He supposed she was referring to her disease and the limited amount of time she had left. “Shouldn’t the truth always matter?”
As soon as he’d spoken the words, he realized what a hypocrite he was being. Lucky thing Savannah hadn’t heard him.
“Truth is important. But it’s not the only factor to consider.” She moved on to the next family picture, taken when both sisters were older, around six and eight.
“This is my mother?”
“Yes.”
Grandpa Turner had his arm around Maddie’s shoulders, while Olive stood slightly apart, shoulders hunched, expression aggrieved. There were other photos. Some of the girls together. Others with their father.
Whenever the family was shot as a whole, he noticed Grandpa Turner had a hand on Maddie, but never his mother.
His mother had always claimed that she was her father’s favorite. But an ugly idea occurred to him. “Did Grandpa Turner blame my mother for Grandma’s death?”
Maddie’s face grew sadder. “It wasn’t logical. But that’s what I was trying to explain to you earlier, Robert. Emotions and logic all too often have nothing to do with one another.”
She let out a sigh. “It’s been nice chatting with you. But I need to lie down now.”
He took the hint. But when he got to his truck, he saw the box from the Cinnamon Stick. Shoot, he’d forgotten to give Maddie her buns. He grabbed the box then hurried back to the house, rapping lightly on the door before letting himself inside.
Maddie was sitting, arms on the table, head resting on the pillow they made.
“Are you all right?”
She lifted her head. “Just tired.” Her gaze went to the white box in his hands. “What’s that?”
“Vince Butterfield asked me to bring these to you.”
Damn if a flush didn’t rise on his aunt’s cheeks. B.J. set the cinnamon buns on the table near enough that she could reach them without stretching.
“Even after all these years, I guess he’s still sweet on you.”
Maddie looked at him sharply. “What would you know about that?”
“Just what he told me. That he chose the rodeo rather than marrying you. And that it was the biggest mistake of his life.”
“He said that?” she whispered. “I always thought...”
“What?”
“Never mind. Thanks for bringing these, B.J. And if you ever feel like another visit, I’d be glad to see you.”
* * *
B.J. DIDN’T MAKE IT back to the ranch until almost seven that evening. He had a lot on his mind and didn’t notice his brother until Corb slapped a hand on his back.
“Showing up a little late for evening chores.” Corb looked tired, and B.J. felt suddenly guilty.
“Sorry about that. I got tied up with Savannah today. Then I stopped in to see Maddie.”
“That’s real nice, B.J., but the horses still need to be fed and watered around here.”
“I’ll get right on it—”
“Don’t bother. Jay—” one of the hired hands “—and I just finished doing your work for you.”
“Thanks. I owe you.”
“I don’t mind. But Laurel might. After a long day at the café and looking after Stephanie, she really counts on me getting home by six.”
“Is there something on your list that I can take care of so you can have a few extra hours in the morning with your family?”
Corb’s expression softened. “Not to worry. Just carry your weight from here on in. Mom’s real excited about you coming home. So am I. We’re hoping it works out for all of us.”
B.J. stood his ground watching as his brother drove the ATV toward his home. Corb’s words had him thinking. Was he on probation here?
Hell. Seemed as though Savannah wasn’t the only one who didn’t trust him.
* * *
SAVANNAH SPENT MOST of the next day in her office. She had some admin matters to take care of. She also tracked down Jonah, Noelle and Alan by phone and asked them what they remembered about that night. Not one of them had anything helpful to add to the information Hanna had already given her.
The day went by slower than usual. Savannah started whenever the phone rang or someone knocked on her office door. She didn’t want to admit it, but the reason was clear.
She kept expecting B.J. to show up.
So far, she’d seen him every day since he’d moved back to Coffee Creek.
So why not today?
Was he regretting that kiss in the Monahan’s parking lot? She sure was.
And yet, she felt a thrill every time she thought about it.
And she thought about it far, far, too often.
Eventually, at five o’clock, she decided she’d had enough. She had more work to do, but she needed a change of scene. Packing some budget papers into her leather bag, she locked up and headed out to her SUV.
She hadn’t driven beyond the town limits when her phone went off.
The quick lift of her spirits flattened when she saw that the call was from her mother. Deciding it was a sign that she’d better make a visit, she told her mother to hang up—she’d be there in five minutes and they could talk in pe
rson.
But when she arrived at the rest home she found that her mother was not in one of her more lucid moods. Francine started babbling as soon as Savannah stepped into her room. She was in her chair, looking out the window at the topaz-colored water of Coffee Creek.
“I was just thinking about the farm,” she said. “That damn flood has ruined all the crops, and now the bank is threatening to foreclose on us. What are we going to do?”
She was lost in movie land again, pretending she was Sissy Spacek in the 1984 movie The River.
“It’ll be okay, Mom. The bank won’t foreclose.”
“I hope you’re right.” Francine pressed a hand to her forehead. “I’m so tired. Help me to my bed, won’t you, dear?”
Ten minutes later Savannah was back on the road, depressed after her aborted visit with her mother. She’d left Francine sleeping peacefully with a smile on her face, finally convinced that they weren’t going to lose the farm, after all.
Her mother’s ability to differentiate between reality and fantasy was blurring more and more with time. It wasn’t an easy thing for a daughter to witness, especially since her mother’s doctor assured her that there was no physical cause for her mother’s form of mental illness. And at age fifty-eight it was much too early for senility to be setting in.
Savannah headed back to her acreage, not looking forward to spending the evening alone. Now that Regan was gone, home had become a place to avoid.
As soon as she turned in her lane she saw that something was different.
The rusted-out trucks were gone.
She drove farther, and then saw B.J.’s truck. He had the tailgate down and was sitting there, obviously waiting for her.
It scared her how happy she felt to see him.
She parked her SUV and waited a few seconds before switching off the ignition. How should she handle this? She had to be cool.
But then he gave her a smile and she couldn’t help responding in kind.
“I took the liberty of bringing over dinner.” He removed a wicker picnic basket from the truck and started toward her house. “You okay with eating on the porch?”
She stared at the basket. “Dinner?”
“I couldn’t risk you offering me one of those frozen entrées again, could I?” He sat in a cushioned chair and started pulling items out of the basket. A couple of beers, beaded with moisture. A roasted chicken, already carved. Biscuits. Potato salad.
A million calories, Savannah thought.
A million delicious calories.
She could get all affronted and tell him she had plans, that he had no right to be on her property, uninvited. Instead, she took the chair to his right and accepted the beer that he had just opened.
“Any new word on the case?”
“No.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing.”
“Maybe.” She sipped her beer, then relaxed her back into the chair. Beside her, B.J. did the same, stretching out his long legs to the point that his boot touched the side of hers.
She didn’t move away from the contact.
He was so damn handsome. She’d forgotten what it was like to be so close to him. At one time he’d been such a constant presence in her life that she’d almost taken him for granted. But that had been a long time ago.
Things were different with them now. There was no going back.
“I talked to Noelle, Jonah and Alan. None of them remembered anything more than Hanna. Not that I expected them to.” After this many years that probably meant that they were telling the truth. Whatever had happened in the barn that night, only B.J. and Hunter knew for sure.
She narrowed her eyes as she watched him fill a plastic plate with food. Unless there’d been a third person there that night. Someone who didn’t know the kids were planning a party...
But no. The kids would have seen his vehicle. Savannah sighed. She was back where she’d started, with no rational explanation for what had happened.
“You look like you’re thinking too hard.” B.J. passed her the plate of food, then filled a second one with a serving for himself.
The food smelled great and tasted better. Between mouthfuls she asked, “So what happened to the trucks?”
“Corb and I hauled them to the salvage yard in Lewistown this afternoon.”
“All the way to Lewistown?” It must have taken them a couple of hours. She’d tried before to have the vehicles towed, but because they didn’t have engines she would have had to pay big bucks. “Why?”
“You told me they were eyesores, right?”
“Yes.”
“And Lewistown has the closest salvage yard.”
“But that was my mess to clean up.” Bad enough that he’d done this for her, but he’d also enlisted his brother.
“It just seemed to me that you could use a hand. That’s all.”
Savannah prided herself on her independence. Asking for help wasn’t something she ever did. And accepting it when it was freely offered was almost as difficult.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“You’re making that pretty clear.”
“This better not have anything to do with that kiss at Monahan’s the other day. I am not open to a relationship right now. And even if I were, it definitely wouldn’t be with you.”
B.J. set aside his food and met her gaze calmly. “Is that so?”
“It is.”
“So, you’re not attracted to me. Is that what you’re saying?”
The brute. He knew she’d kissed him back with a passion that had equaled his own. “That’s not the point.”
“Oh?”
“A good relationship is grounded in respect and trust. We don’t have that.”
“You don’t respect me?”
“Damn it, B.J. Why are you making this so hard?”
She got up from the chair, paced to the end of the porch then swung around.
“I’m not giving up on us, Savannah. I recognize you’ve got reasons to question what I told you about that night. But I don’t see why that should matter. I didn’t do anything wrong. Why won’t you believe me?”
“Because if you didn’t do anything wrong, then that means Hunter did.”
B.J. froze. He hadn’t meant her to draw that conclusion. But he could see why she had. Especially since it was the truth.
“Have you thought of talking to your brother about this?”
“I’ve been sending him emails every day since I got home from Oregon. He still hasn’t gotten in touch and I’m not ready to stoop to official channels.” She sighed.
“Want me to try and find him?”
B.J. was standing now, too, looking at her with an expression that seemed full of compassion.
Damn him. She didn’t need his sympathy. She blinked away tears. God help her, she didn’t want to start crying. Why hadn’t she run him off her land right from the start? “Would you stop being so damn nice?”
He shook his head. Any other woman and he’d be long gone. “I just can’t win with you, can I?”
Chapter Ten
Somehow, despite his best intentions, the evening had gone sideways. B.J. hated seeing Savannah so upset. He’d only wanted to make her happy by getting rid of those old junk heaps and bringing her a decent dinner.
Instead, she was all worked up.
And determined to see him as the bad guy.
Even if she knew the truth about the night of the fire, he doubted it would make any difference. She still blamed him for the party, for the fire, for everything. Her protective instincts and loyalty would always belong to her brother first.
He couldn’t blame her for that. She’d been looking out for Regan and Hunter most of her life. But there was never anyone to look out for h
er.
How could he make her understand that he wanted to be the one to do that? Every instinct he possessed was telling him to take her into his arms. But she was still looking at him as if he was the enemy.
“You shouldn’t have let it happen in the first place.”
There were back to this.
“That night was a huge mistake. But we were kids. A lot has changed since then, but my feelings for you haven’t.”
He moved even closer, searching her eyes to see if his words were reaching her at all. When he saw the glistening of fresh tears, he put his arms around her.
She pushed back for a second.
And then she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him with a desperation that matched his own.
“B.J....?”
He kissed her, because that seemed the only answer that would tell her what she needed to know about him. That he was here, and he was hers, and she could count on him.
She was on her toes now, sliding her hands from his shoulders to his back. Her kisses told him that she still cared, too. And that she was willing to give him a second chance.
They hadn’t been lovers the first time. They’d been too young.
But they were adults now and his need for her was desperate. He pressed her body snug against his, and she drove him crazy when she gave a sexy wiggle of her hips.
He brushed her hair back so he could see her face. “Sweetheart?”
She knew what he was asking. “Let’s take this inside....”
He shouldered open the door, not quite believing this was really happening. Savannah was in his arms, kissing him as madly as he was kissing her.
And then she had his hand and was leading him down a narrow hall. He glimpsed a room with white walls and a neatly made bed. In his mind he was already lowering Savannah onto the pale blue quilt when her cell phone rang.
She unclipped it from her belt and placed it on a wooden bureau near the door. Her shirt had come untucked and he took the opportunity to rest his hands on her bare waist. Her skin was smooth and he followed the curves of her hips down to the leather belt that was part of her uniform.
This would have to go.
He was working the buckle when the landline rang. Savannah tensed, and he gave a mental curse, already understanding that she’d decided to take the call.
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