by Sylvie Kaye
"Grant body-slammed Mark as he got to his feet and you covered for him,” she said numbly.
"I thought Spence had done it. Grant never told me differently. Until he was on his deathbed. Only time he ever lied to me.” Uncle Parker's eyes misted with regret. He pulled the car over to the side of the road and hung his head. Interstate traffic whizzed by. The only other sound was a choking sniffle before he picked his head up. “Grant knew he was dying, even back then. He didn't want to die in jail or without Iris by his side.” He swiped at a tear. “He died in his own bed."
Mercy patted his shoulder before she got out of the car and went around to the driver's side and opened the door. “I've always wanted to drive a Cadillac convertible."
They both knew her uncle needed time to compose himself, and he accepted her offer. He eased his heavy-spirited body from the seat and hugged her. “I'm sorry you were dragged into this."
"I wasn't dragged. I came willingly. For your sake as well as Spence's."
"So that's how it is.” His eyes crinkled with understanding. “Looks like I sent the cops too late."
* * * *
Spence stood on the porch the following morning, barefooted and sleep-weary. Leaning against the paint-faded post, he speculated on the rundown ranch and the work needed to get it up and going. He felt restless instead of exhilarated.
He and Mark had discussed all kinds of plans for painting, planting ryegrass for haying, and breeding horses. While Spence was in jail, his enthusiasm to get outside and work in the fresh air and sunlight had grown even stronger.
Now, all he could think about was Mercy. Her flight took off last night. Staring out at the empty blue sky, he imagined her plane had already landed in Pennsylvania.
On the horizon, a swirl of dust barreled up the road. Who in the hell could be coming to visit him at such top speed? Had Parker sent the cops again?
He stood his ground, squinting to determine the trouble in the distance before it arrived. As the vehicle closed in on the ranch, he saw red.
Parker's Caddy. The man himself had finally come out of hiding. He braced himself against the post and crossed one bare foot over the other, faking a casual stance he didn't feel.
The car sped up the lane, not slowing for potholes or bumps. Dust engulfed the vehicle. If Spence had any sense, he'd duck inside because the crazy driver was heading for the porch at an improbable speed for stopping short of crashing.
But Spence toughed it out. Seemed he had more guts than brains, and both were likely to be splattered across the porch at any moment.
In a whirlwind of dirt and grit, the car braked and lurched to a halt mere yards from the steps leading to where Spence stood.
Refusing to choke on the cloud of dirt, he swigged on his coffee and eyeballed the Caddy over the rim of his mug.
As the dust settled back to the ground, the convertible top lowered. The moment of retribution had arrived.
Paybacks were hell. This was one adage Mercy wouldn't enjoy, and he was glad she wasn't here to witness it. He flexed the fist at his side and waited, for the last time.
A film of dirt covered the windshield, blocked his view of the culprit, and tried his patience. Finally, the red door flung open and a slim figure emerged.
Coming around to the front of the car, Mercy hopped up on the hood, rested her booted feet on the bumper, and smiled at him.
She was wearing cowboy boots.
He smiled back but didn't move, mostly because he couldn't. He was stunned. His heart leaped in his chest, happy to see her again.
"I gather you missed your plane, and you're in your uncle's good graces.” He pointed his coffee mug toward the car.
Mercy couldn't stop smiling. He was so darn handsome and rugged and hers.
"I have a message for you from my uncle."
He nodded, barely. “Let's hear it."
"You were right. Uncle Parker perjured himself at your trial. He believed Grant when he said you had fought with Mark. Grant's lawyers have signed documents admitting their guilt and a check for restitution. It's a substantial amount."
She held up her hand, wanting to finish before she let Spence have his say. “My uncle and Grant were best friends, like you and Mark were. Like brothers. I know it doesn't excuse what Uncle Parker did, but I think it might help you to understand.” She paused. His eyes were still, and he didn't say anything. “I know the money doesn't make up for what happened, but their sworn statements are contingent on you accepting compensation for your pain and suffering. They felt strongly ... guilty about it."
"How much is it?"
The question surprised her. She didn't think the amount would interest him. “Enough to get your ranch up and running. Enough for a fresh start."
He nodded, putting his coffee mug on the porch railing. “Enough to turn down because I love you. Do you think I could accept the offer on the outside chance of implicating your uncle of perjury? I couldn't put your uncle in jail anymore than I could you."
Her heart pounded. She didn't argue, sure her uncle would convince him otherwise, talk him into accepting the money he deserved. She was here for another reason, to cement a future with the man she loved and who loved her.
"Oh, Spence.” She slid from the hood of the car and pounced up the wooden steps and into his arms. “I know how important family and loyalty are to you. I'm privileged to be a part of that.” She took his face in her hands and met his intense eyes. “I love you, too."
Their lips touched. His mouth, sensual and searching, fired her heart and her body. She tasted his profound need to love and be loved and returned his heartfelt feeling with her own. Softly, gently, giving and taking with her mouth. By the time he lifted his head away, they were both breathless and eager.
His serious eyes met hers. “When will you be leaving?"
"I'm not.” When he blinked in surprise, she explained, “I'm applying to the University of Texas at San Antonio. The temp who's covering for me is glad to stay on at the medical office. My mother's going to ship my things and both my uncle and Cindy have offered me a place to stay until I get an apartment of my own."
"Stay with me.” When she didn't answer right away, he added, “Or if you'd rather we take it slow and easy, stay with either of them."
"I'm partial to slow and easy,” she slid her hands around his neck. “If I stay with Cindy or Uncle Parker, I'm sure to get more studying done, but you have that certain touch a hard-working student needs to relax."
"Like when I touch you here.” He slid his hand between her thighs and cupped her. Even through the thickness of her jeans the heat built fast.
"Uh-huh,” she moaned, swaying into him, widening her stance.
"And like this.” He shifted his hand back and forth.
"Oh, yes.” She coaxed him on by rocking her hips.
"And this.” He swung her up in his arms and headed toward the screen door and into the house.
"And exactly why you're my dream guy.” She hugged his neck tighter.
Heading toward the screen door and into the house, he said in a voice husky with promise, “Let's see about making all of our dreams come true."
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About the author...
Sylvie Kaye was born and raised in Pennsylvania in the shadows of the Pocono Mountains and its honeymoon havens where she breathes the air of romance daily. After getting one short story published in 1994, she went from hooked on reading romances to hooked on writing them. Her years of work experience in varied jobs from manufacturing to retail and banking, to name a few, lend itself to writing contemporary romances. Road trips to exciting locations in our beautiful country inspire the settings for her stories.
Contact Sylvie at [email protected]
or visit www.sylviekaye.com
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