Blaze: A Texas Heat Novel

by McKenzie, Octavia

“I promised never to tell.”

  “What if he does it again?” Donavan growled. “He hit hard enough to leave bruises.”

  Emerson couldn’t bear the thought of anyone hurting her friend.

  “It’s common knowledge that Harper was adopted.”

  Donavan nodded. Everyone knows that. “The Grants are good people. If you’re insinuating that Carl Grant would ever hurt her-”

  “No! Her parents are wonderful, she adores them.”

  “Then what the hell?”

  Emerson bit her lip. “Harper was adopted from the foster care system.”

  Donavan frowned. “No, she came from an orphanage up north.”

  “Mister Grant didn’t want her to have the stigma of being from the system. His sister is a social worker at Texas Children’s Hospital in Houston. She knew her brother and his wife desperately wanted a child so she helped them adopt-”

  “Wait, back up,” Donavan glared at Emerson, “What does this have to do with Harper?”

  “Her biological father put her in the hospital.”

  Donavan blanched. “No,” the denial tore from him.

  Emerson nodded miserably.

  Years on the police force, Donavan saw his share of monsters that hurt children. The thought of Harper having someone in her life who could do something like that pained him beyond bearing.

  “How old was she?”

  “Five or six.”

  Donavan cursed under his breath. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

  “You were too busy fighting.”

  “You think the bastard tracked her down after all these years?”

  Emerson shuddered. “I hope not, but who else would do this?”

  Donavan unfolded his tall, muscular body and rose to his feet. “I’m sorry, I have to go.” Find her. The words were left unspoken. Emerson understood. She took his hand in hers and squeezed. “Go help our girl.” He nodded and left.

  Emerson felt numb all over. Between Dylan’s engagement and fear for Harper, it was the worst night of her life. She left the restaurant and the new couple behind. She sat in her car for a long time, just devastated, with a death grip on the steering wheel, she cried until her ribs were sore.

  Susie Q and Penny May did a live update from town square.

  “Mayor Dylan Chambers won his re-election campaign. It was a tough loss for Mr. Jessup Baldwin, esquire.”

  Penny twirled her silver ringlets. “If you need a shoulder to cry on, my number is 512-377-SASS.”

  “Really?” Susie Q glared at her twin, who was younger by fifty-two seconds.

  Penny May put her hand to her ear like a phone and said without sound, “Call me!”

  “In other news,” Susie Q said as she adjusted her stiff girdle. “Mayor Chambers got engaged last night to heiress Lea Saint James.”

  “Lucky gal, he’s a cutie patootie,” Penny May chimed in.

  “Right you are, Penny May, it’ll be the wedding of the year, bar none. Don’t forget the shindig for our girl, Nell Riley and war hero Arthur Hickman.”

  “Ooo can’t wait for that wedding sister,” Penny May said, “If there’s any vets in attendance, I’ll help you raise your flag pole if you know what I mean.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Susie Q asked.

  “If you have your own teeth and a large life insurance policy, I’m your girl.”

  Susie Q glared at her sibling. She looked back at the camera and flashed a smile. “This is Penny May and Susie Q and you’re up to date, happy sunrise!”

  Chapter 12

  Dylan stood on the veranda staring out at nothing. His twenty year plan was right on track. With this political win, a committee flew in from Washington. They were vetting him for the governor race in two years. His campaign manager did a victory dance followed by a fist pump. Jordan began a war room strategy and new campaign staff hunt for the state race.

  Grandmother Menerva grunted her approval. According to her chart projections a Chambers would be president of the United States in twenty years or less. They would be a political dynasty. Menerva had Kennedy, Camelot, American royal family ambitions. The Chambers men had the Ivy League education, political savvy, vast wealth, power, influence and handsome looks to pull it off.

  Dylan knew the expectations were high, the pressure to deliver – tremendous, he couldn’t let his family down. Generations were depending on him, the family legacy at stake. He had to stick to the plan. And yet, his heart felt so heavy.

  Emerson…

  Visceral pain cut him to the bone. His twenty year plan felt bleak without her. He never meant to hurt her, didn’t know how to make it right. He certainly wasn’t proud of the way he treated her. Dylan sighed heavily.

  “That bad, huh?” Ava joined her son on the veranda. She pointed out the staff preparing for the wedding. White folded chairs were angled to face the ornate gazebo, decorated with flowers and ribbons. Staff put the finishing touches on a reception tent with Christmas lights.

  “So sweet of you to have a local wedding here,” Ava said.

  Dylan shrugged. “It’s the least I could do, Arthur Hickman stormed the beaches of Normandy in World War II, helped liberate concentration camps, not to mention all he does for the homeless. He deserves any help I can offer.”

  Ava stared at his stubborn profile. “Does she know you’re in love with her?”

  They weren’t talking about his fiancé. Dylan didn’t pretend to be ignorant of it. “No,” he said.

  Last night, it took every ounce of self-control not to lunge for Donavan’s throat when he touched Emerson. He couldn’t publically humiliate Lea by giving into the burning jealousy that tore his guts out.

  “Are you going to tell her?” Ava persisted.

  Dylan gave his mom a sideways glance.

  “This matters to you, why?”

  “Dyl, I want you to be happy. I want you to have a real marriage.”

  “Unlike you?” he regretted the question as soon as he said it. His mother blanched.

  “Mom, I’m sorry.” He reached for her.

  She shrank away from his touch, wounded. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” she whispered.

  Dylan mentally kicked himself for being so insensitive. Way to go Chambers! “Forgive me, please.”

  Ava smiled faintly. “I’m okay.” Clearly she wasn’t. Ava rolled out of bed looking like Malibu Barbie. Dylan noticed, she hardly wore make up, her blond hair, usually stiff with hairspray in an elegant bun was loose in a ponytail. Her usual wardrobe of sleek designer suits and stripper heels was replaced with a hoodie, jeans and cowboy boots.

  Dylan frowned. “Mom, what’s going on?”

  “I’m divorcing your father.”

  Dylan’s jaw dropped. “Why now?”

  After years of cold misery, she wore a mask of civility and fake smiles. Now Dylan saw clearly how much those marriage years cost her. The anguish on her face took his breath away.

  “Jesus mom,” he whispered, “What can I do?”

  She schooled her features back into icy composure. “Find a way,” she said, “Don’t give up what you could have with Emerson, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. No amount of money or political ambition is worth that.”

  Ava kissed his cheek. She pressed something in his hand. Dylan looked down at the gold ring. It had a Celtic swirl design. Tiny diamonds circled the top and bottom. He’d never seen the ring before.

  “It’s your great grandmother’s wedding band.”

  He looked at his mother quizzically. “She’d want you to marry your heart and so do I,” Ava said before walking away.

  Chapter 13

  The wedding of sixty-eight year old Nell Riley and sixty-three year old Arthur Hickman was the social event of the season. Veterans attended in full uniform and decorated medals of honor. The twins, Susie Q and Penny May were decked out in matching floral dresses and peacock hats. Susie Q took notes for their blog as they mingled wi
th the town folk.

  A quartet played Pachelbel’s Canon in D. Emerson walked her grandmother down the aisle. She blinked back misty tears of happiness for her Gran. Nell looked radiant in a crystal studded blush chiffon gown. Emerson wore a wispy soft rose, off the shoulder dress. Her hair loose in a riot of curls with a festive flower in her hair. She looked like a pixie fairy in the garden. She nearly took a misstep when her eyes collided with Dylan’s. He was dressed in a dark, immaculate suit. He’s so beautiful, her heart ached. She tore her eyes away. Today wasn’t about her pain and loss, it’s about Nell and Arthur. Emerson plastered a smile on her face. Gonna get through this, take it one step at a time.

  Tears of joy spilled down Arthur’s cheeks. He looked awestruck at his bride. As a result, there wasn’t a dry eye in the place.

  Emerson kissed her Gran’s cheek. “I love you,” she whispered.

  Nell embraced her warmly. “My darling girl,” she said.

  Emerson and her Gran wiped away tears and laughed. Arthur took his bride’s hand and kissed it gallantly. Wistful feminine sighs sounded from the seated guests. Emerson sat in the front row. She could feel Dylan’s eyes burn a path across her bare skin. He’s engaged! Emerson bit her lip hard. Soon it would be Dylan and the sophisticated Lea exchanging vows. Emerson refused to shed another tear for him. He chose someone else. She had to accept that and move on.

  The ceremony was conducted by Pastor Rowan Camden. Emerson thought he looked too much like sin to be a pastor. His rugged handsomeness was so overwhelmingly masculine it was hard to concentrate on the ceremony at hand. The red haired, green eyed pastor reminded her of a Scottish highlander. His deep voice cast a spell on every woman in attendance. By the time he was through, women were ready to convert!

  “You may kiss the bride,” the pastor said.

  The guests clapped and cheered. Arthur and Nell walked down the aisle beaming, hand in hand under, a shower of rose petals. Emerson picked up her Gran’s bouquet. She shook the pastor’s large hand. “Thank you Pastor Camden, it was a beautiful ceremony.”

  His green eyes sparkled. Lord! Emerson wondered how on earth her friend Sawyer could be best friends with this man and keep things strictly platonic.

  He smiled. “My pleasure,” his deep voice rumbled. He squeezed her hand. “It’s good to see you, bookworm.”

  The next thing she knew, Dylan was by her side. He put his arm around her waist possessively. The pastor raised an eyebrow. Emerson glared at Dylan. WTF?!

  “I suggest you remove your hand now if you don’t want to lose a limb,” Dylan said pleasantly to the pastor.

  He smiled at Emerson in that slow, sexy way that made her pulse race. Where was her strength and outraged feminine pride? She wanted to just snuggle in his arm, feel his hands on her skin and kiss him blind. Emerson flashed an apologetic smile to Rowan. She walked down the aisle with Dylan. He steered her to a hidden alcove draped with ivy. They were out of sight and earshot of everyone else.

  Emerson took a few steps back, out of his reach. “What the hell?”

  He struggled to speak. “I’m so sorry, so sorry for hurting you.”

  “Fine, you’re forgiven, let me make it clear, I never want to see you again.”

  He stopped breathing. “You don’t mean that.”

  “Yes I do,” she said with tears in her eyes. “If you come near me, I won’t be able to resist you. Dylan, I can’t be your mistress, I’m no man’s other woman and I’m not a homewrecker so please, just stay away, stop acting jealous, I need to move on.”

  “Please just, dance with me.”

  No! He held out his hand. Resist! She told herself firmly. Helplessly she placed her hand in his. At the start of cocktail hour, the quartet played something hopelessly romantic. Emerson walked into his open arms. He embraced her, stroking her back and waist. Goosebumps followed wherever he touched. Her hands slid under his tailored jacket, around his waist. She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes. His heart thundered. They swayed in the secret garden. A warm breeze stirred around them. So this is good-bye, she thought. Emerson knew she would love him until her last breath. She savored the feel of him, the heady scent of mint, outdoors and man, his touch on every inch of bare skin.

  Emerson realized then and there, she could never hate him. “I hope she loves you,” she whispered brokenly, “I hope she adores you, cares for you, makes love to you, I hope she’ll be your best friend, that you’ll never be lonely, that she’ll help your dreams come true, I pray she’ll have your children-”

  “Stop, baby,” he whispered with aching tenderness. His arms contracted around her in a way that said he’d never let her go.

  “I broke off the engagement.”

  Emerson froze. “What?”

  Dylan cupped her cheek. He stroked the curve of her cheek with his thumb. “I’m so sorry I hurt you,” he said gruffly, “I’ve loved you since I was eighteen years old. I never stopped, not for a day, I adore you sweet girl, I love you, love you so much!”

  Emerson burst into tears. Is this really happening? She had no idea she asked the question out loud. Dylan framed her face between his hands. He wiped her tears away and whispered promises in her ear. His forehead touched hers. They stood in the circle of each other’s arms as sweet music played.

  Dylan stared straight into her eyes. “I’m not letting you go again.”

  He dropped to one knee, kissed her palm and asked, “My darling, will you marry me?”

  Tears swam in her eyes. She nodded. “Yes!” she whispered. Dylan slipped the gold band on her finger. “This belonged to my great grandmother and now it’s yours, my heart will always be yours.”

  Dylan remained on his knees. He buried his head in her waist. She stroked his hair with infinite tenderness. His ring was a perfect fit. He pulled her flush against him. They kissed with fireflies glowing all around them. Dylan swept her off her feet and spun her around and around. Emerson laughed, drunk on happiness.

  Chapter 14

  When Dylan and Emerson joined the reception hand in hand, Susie Q and Penny May did a mad sprint for their laptop. The guests whispered in wonder as the couple approached Nell and Arthur. Gran took one look at Emerson’s face and squealed her excitement. The women embraced joyously. Nell took Emerson by the hand, “Come, I want details!” The bride and the bride to be went to a private corner of the tent.

  Arthur shook Dylan’s hand. “Young Chambers, I’m confused, I thought you were already spoken for, how many women are you gonna propose to?”

  Dylan grinned. “Emerson will be the last, you have my word.”

  “I certainly hope so, she’s a keeper.”

  Dylan’s heart melted at the sight of her. “Yes she is.”

  George Chambers stalked up to him with blazing eyes. He bristled with fury. “What the hell is going on?” he growled.

  “Who invited you?” Arthur said.

  George blinked. “Excuse me? This is my house, my land.”

  Arthur snorted. “You’re the last person I’d take love advice from, you got no right interrogating junior here.”

  “I beg your pardon?” George asked, dangerously close to losing it.

  Arthur kept his voice down but his tone was every bit as fierce. “I was there remember? I know what you did to your wife.”

  George sneered, “How dare you!”

  “Let’s take this outside,” Dylan said. He led them near the fountains. They had relative privacy. Dylan asked sharply, “Dad, what is he talking about?”

  “Yeah, dad?” Arthur asked contemptuously.

  George’s hand curled into a fist. He snapped at Arthur, “Shut up!”

  “Dad?”

  George stood tight lipped.

  Arthur glared at the patriarch of the Chambers clan before giving Dylan his full attention. “Your mother helped me with a nonprofit organization years back. She was into all kinds of charities. She got a big heart.”

  George r
olled his eyes.

  “One day she went up to the VA hospital to see the wounded veterans, give em books, cards, presents and what not. ‘Bout that time, her step mama was in town.”

  Dylan had a vague memory of Ash-Lynn Ingalls. Blond bombshell came to mind, pretty, young, spoiled rotten.

  “She said she wanted to help with the vets, I wanna be more like you she said to Ava, your mama believed her.”

  George frowned impatiently. “What does this have to do with-”

  “I wanna be just like you, what Ash-Lynn meant was she wanted your mama’s life. She kept stealing her designer clothes and jewelry, started doing her hair up like your mama. Ava never complained. But I noticed all right. Some of the vets up at the hospital was good lookin’. Ava’s daddy, your grandpa was a much older man than his young bride. He was recovering from open heart surgery. Doctors said if he had another heart attack it would kill him. He can’t handle no more stress. One day a reporter be at the hospital to interview the vets. He walked into a patient room and saw a woman in bed with a strapping Marine.”

  George stiffened. The memories weren’t pleasant if the stone cold look on his dad’s face was any indication.

  “The reporter took pictures,” Arthur said, “He threatened to publish ‘em unless he got a lump sum.”

  “I paid the bastard off,” George said livid with Arthur for bringing up the subject. “A hundred grand to destroy the prints and negative. So while I thought your mother was up at the hospital doing good, she was screwing other men.”

  “No dumbass,” Arthur burst out, “Ava loved you, she practically worshipped you.”

  Dylan looked between the two men. He’d never in his life seen love, warmth or affection between his parents. They had a political marriage, a business arrangement. They barely tolerated each other. Dylan suddenly remembered the look of anguish on his mother’s face only hours before.

  “Dear God, it wasn’t her,” Dylan said softly.

  George turned on his son. “I know you don’t want to believe it, believe me, her infidelity damn near killed me but I saw the pictures, it was her,” he said grimly, “Even the reporter identified-”