Cassie smiled. Yes, she remembered. And the feeling of that love came flooding back. In addition to being a nonwatcher, Dixie Mae hadn’t exactly been sweet and cuddly, but she had loved Cassie, and Cassie had never doubted that love for a moment.
Well, maybe a moment when she’d first found out Dixie Mae had left Lucky and her with guardianship of the girls.
Dixie Mae had scrawled “Love, Gran,” but that wasn’t the end of the letter. “PS. Try to make Lucky understand that his parents’ deaths weren’t his fault.”
* * *
LUCKY KNOCKED ON Mackenzie’s door and was surprised when she answered right away. Not with a scowl or a smart-mouthed response, either. She still looked plenty happy. At first, he thought that had something to do with Dixie Mae’s letter, but she was clutching it unopened in her hand.
So this was no doubt some leftover happiness from his agreeing to that dance date. Something that Lucky hoped he didn’t regret. However, for now he’d take that happiness. And even add some more.
“Your aunt Alice called, and she thinks it won’t be a problem for you and Mia to stay for the wedding.”
“Really?” Mackenzie didn’t sound like goth moody girl now. She was fully smiling again, and she launched herself into his arms for a very unexpected hug.
And Lucky got an unexpected jolt from the warmth that went through him. Of course, none of this would last, but he decided to hang on to it for a while. But Mackenzie didn’t hang on.
“I have to call Brody,” she insisted, and practically shut the door in his face.
He had to smile, though. Apparently, she was a normal girl beneath all that anger and makeup. In fact, Mackenzie might just thrive with someone like Aunt Alice. That caused his smile to fade a little. Not because he didn’t want her to be happy—he did. But it would have been nice to see both girls come into their own.
Lucky went back downstairs to check on Mia, but Della and she were tied up with a cookie-baking lesson, which meant he didn’t have any excuses not to read the letter. He went to his room for that, though. He preferred not to have an audience for what could turn out to be gut-wrenching. Or just plain frustrating. Heaven knew Dixie Mae could be both in the span of two seconds.
“Dear Lucky,” he read “I’ll try to spell all the words right so you won’t scowl. I suspect you’re cussing me right now, but that’s okay. It makes up for the times you wanted to cuss at me but were too much of a son to do it. Yes, I called you a son, because you were like that to me. That’s why I wanted you to have the girls until something permenent could be worked out. I knew you’d do what was best for them because it would be like doing what was best for me.”
Lucky had to admit she was right. And that part about his being like a son to her? That watered his eyes a little. But it would have watered them significantly more if she hadn’t misspelled permanent.
“I didn’t tell you about the girls sooner,” Lucky continued reading, “because you were so busy with the rodeo stuff. I thought I’d have more time. More time to find their kin and get them settled before I passed. It was never my plan to keep them, even for a month, because let’s face it, those girls deserve better than me.”
Lucky wanted to disagree, but he couldn’t. Dixie Mae wasn’t the conventional mothering sort, and the girls needed someone normal and stable in their lives.
“Anyway, be good to yourself and Cassie,” he read on. “And remember what I told you about rusting up your zipper a bit. Love, Dixie Mae.”
He hadn’t exactly planned on taking the zipper-rusting advice to heart, but it had worked out that way. Thanks to Andrew’s interruption in the barn. If he hadn’t shown up, there might not have been enough rust in a junkyard to stop Lucky from finishing what he’d started with Cassie.
Lucky was about to refold the letter, but then he saw the PS at the bottom. “Make Cassie understand that that woman’s death wasn’t her fault.”
And those were Dixie Mae’s last words to him. They were good last words, too. Not like the bull remark she’d made on her deathbed. This was solid advice that he should start working on.
Like now.
He hurried upstairs, knocked on Cassie’s door, and the moment she opened it, Lucky hooked his arm around her, hauled her to him and kissed her. Of course, Dixie Mae hadn’t specifically told him to kiss Cassie. In fact, she hadn’t said anything about a lip-lock, but Lucky figured it might help them both.
It was stupid logic, but that brainless part of him behind his zipper thought this was the cure to any and all world problems. Personal ones, too.
Cassie made a soft sound of surprise, a sound that got trapped in the kiss. A lot of things got trapped. Her hand. Her breasts. Basically the entire front part of her body ended up squished against his while he took the kiss to the next level.
It was the only way to make sure that Cassie knew this was a real kiss and not some peck of reassurance about their situation and those letters. And since it was a real kiss, Lucky made sure it went on for a while. That it involved some touching, as well. He kept kissing, kept touching, until air became a serious issue. He either had to break away from her or suffocate.
It took him several seconds to decide.
He finally pulled back, his eyeballs meeting hers. Cassie looked dazed. Aroused. And a whole bunch of other things that his hard-on wanted him to explore. But it wasn’t the time or the place.
“Sometimes the bull doesn’t win,” he said.
Lucky didn’t have a clue what that meant in this context. Didn’t care. He walked away, smiling, and he was certain he’d just given Cassie something to think about.
* * *
MACKENZIE HATED TO leave a message for Brody. She wanted to tell him the news now, but the call went straight to voice mail. She mumbled a “call me” and hoped it wouldn’t take him too long to get back to her.
She waited a minute. Then two. And since she didn’t have anything better to do, she opened the letter from Dixie Mae and started reading.
Dear Mackenzie,
I hope you’re behaving yourself and have found a good makeup remover. Clear skin really is one of the keys to a woman’s happiness, though I’m sure you’ll hear that love is. It can be, but you know firsthand that love can also be shitty. Yes, I know I shouldn’t cuss around you, but it’s hard to come up with another word for shitty, especially one that I can spell right off the top of my head. Probably should have taken that dictionary that Lucky was always trying to give me.
Anyway, just keep putting one foot ahead of the other. Never really did understand that since I’m not sure how you’d put two feet ahead without busting your ass, but again I’m drifting off point and cussing. Keep growing. Keep living. Keep loving. One final thing: help Mia understand that life is more than the bucket of puke you two have had so far.
Love, Dixie Mae.
Mackenzie couldn’t help it. She smiled. Dixie Mae was crazy, but crazy in a good way. Not like Mackenzie’s mother. Probably not like Aunt Alice, either, but at least her aunt had agreed to let her stay for the wedding.
Her phone rang, finally, and she nearly dropped it trying to answer it.
“Kenzie,” Brody said.
God, she loved it when he called her that. Of course, that’s what Mia called her, but it sounded so grown-up when Brody said it.
“I got your message,” he continued. “Good news, huh? But I got some more good news. Guess where I am right now?” Brody didn’t wait for her to guess. “I’m in the barn behind the McCord house. There’s nobody out here but me, so why don’t you come out? We can hang out together.”
“Okay,” she heard herself say, though she knew Lucky and Cassie wouldn’t allow this. That’s why she had no intention of telling them. “I’ll be down in a couple of minutes.”
The instant Mackenzie ended the call, she wished she’d
told him a half hour so she could pull herself together. Her heart was pounding like a gorilla on the inside of her chest, and she could have used that time to steady herself. She didn’t want to go out there looking like an idiot kid who’d never done anything like this before.
Even though she hadn’t.
Sure, she’d done some sneaking out in the past, but it’d never been to meet a boy. A boy who liked her! It had usually been to get Mia away from their mom when she was high and acting stupid.
Mackenzie hurried to the bathroom to fix her makeup. That alone took a minute of that couple she’d given herself. On top of that, she couldn’t just run down the stairs. She had to sneak, to make sure she didn’t draw anyone’s attention. Thankfully, there was no one in the front part of the house so she crept her way to the back door and slipped out.
Until she made it to the backyard, Mackenzie hadn’t realized that the sun had already set. That was probably why Brody had picked this time to come. There were no ranch hands around, and it was already dark enough that she hoped no one would spot her. Wearing all black would finally work in her favor. And besides, Brody seemed to like it.
“Over here,” Brody whispered when she got closer to the barn.
Good thing, too, because Mackenzie hadn’t seen him at all. He was also wearing all black—maybe her taste in clothes had rubbed off on him—and he was standing in the shadows inside the barn.
“Hi,” she said.
Brody took hold of her arm and yanked her into the barn, right into those shadows. “I don’t want your watchdogs to see us,” he said. “Because Lucky might not like me doing this.”
And what he did was kiss her.
Brody smashed his lips against hers. It was rough, and Mackenzie nearly pulled away before she came to her senses. This was her first kiss, so how was she to know if this was rough or not?
“You taste like a birthday present,” Brody whispered to her.
Mackenzie had never had a good birthday, certainly didn’t know how one tasted, but Brody seemed to like it. He made a grunting sound and kissed her again. Mackenzie felt the warmth trickle through her, but she also felt something else.
His hand going up her top.
Again, it was rough. He had calluses, and they raked across her skin. He shoved down the right cup of her bra before she even realized what he was doing.
Mackenzie stepped back, her breath gusting.
“You’re not quitting, are you?” Brody asked. “Because you don’t look like a girl who’d quit to me.”
“I don’t quit,” she said. In the past that was her answer to anyone who wanted to fight, but Brody must have figured out that she didn’t want to fight with him. So what did not quitting mean to him?
Certainly not that.
“But maybe we can just kiss,” she whispered.
Mackenzie couldn’t see a lot of his face because it was so dark, but Brody still had his hand on her arm, and she felt his muscles tense. Then relax.
“All right. For now, we kiss,” he agreed.
The relief flooded through her, along with a new trickle of heat when his mouth came back to hers. Not so rough this time. It was gentle, and strange. Strange because it made the heat trickle even more than it had when he was being rough. She wasn’t sure why that would make a difference. Mackenzie wasn’t sure of anything except that she wanted Brody to keep on kissing her.
And he did.
Until there was a bright flash of light. Not from overhead but from outside the barn. At first, she thought Lucky or Cassie had found them, but this wasn’t anyone she recognized. It was some bald guy with a camera.
The flash went off again.
This jerk was taking their picture. But why?
“Hey!” Brody warned him. “You stop that now.”
Well, the guy did stop taking their picture. But he didn’t stop moving altogether. He took off running, taking the proof of the kiss with him.
Mackenzie held her breath, waiting to see if someone was going to come running out of the house. When that didn’t happen, she figured that she’d pushed her luck enough for one night. If Lucky or Cassie caught her out here, they might not let her go to the dance.
On a date, she corrected.
Her first date. And there was no way she wanted to ruin that.
“Gotta go,” she said.
Before he could say something to stop her, Mackenzie brushed a quick kiss on Brody’s mouth and slunk back toward the house.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CASSIE CAME DOWN the stairs and immediately had to dodge a cat that zipped past her. The dodging caused her to sidestep, and in turn she tripped over a basket of toy cars. Ethan’s “flower boy” offerings no doubt. She hadn’t needed another reminder that Claire and Riley’s wedding was only three days away, but the stubbed toe now served as notice that the clock was ticking.
Too fast.
Business had made that time jet by even faster. First business on her part—Marla had made a return visit, this time to lament over whether or not her kneecaps were too saggy. A lover—Cassie didn’t bother to ask which one—had mentioned it, and it’d sent Marla into a tailspin. Or rather straight to the airport. Cassie had calmed the woman down but then had suggested she might want another therapist. Marla had balked about that for hours until Cassie had suggested Andrew.
Success.
Marla was no longer on Cassie’s client list. In fact, her client list was down to just a handful now, even though she did have two television appearances still scheduled for the end of the month. By then, the wedding would be over, the girls would be with Aunt Alice and Lucky’s kisses would be a memory.
It was getting harder and harder for Cassie to hang on to those memories. Mainly because Lucky hadn’t exactly been around much to remind her.
Or kiss her again.
In fact, it’d been three days since he’d done that.
The business bug had bitten him, too, and he’d been forced to spend time in his San Antonio office to put out whatever kind of fires a rodeo promoter had to put out. Thankfully, Mackenzie had behaved herself even if she’d pretty much stayed in her room. And besides, the time spent not kissing Lucky had given Cassie a chance to hang out with Mia.
Which was both fun and exhausting.
She wasn’t sure how parents did that day in and day out, but at least now Cassie knew if she ever had children of her own, she’d be able to handle it without going into panic mode.
That left the letter. Cassie wasn’t sure how to deal with her grandmother’s letter. Well, one specific part of that letter anyway.
PS. Try to make Lucky understand that his parents’ deaths weren’t his fault.
Cassie wasn’t sure how Dixie Mae had expected her to fix that since Lucky wouldn’t even talk about it. Worse, Cassie wasn’t sure she wanted him to talk about it. That was how she’d gotten into trouble with Hannah. She’d encouraged the woman to open some old wounds that had apparently been so deep they’d caused her to kill herself.
Still rubbing her toe, Cassie made her way to the kitchen in the hopes of finding a second cup of coffee. Maybe finding Lucky, too, or the girls. But what she found was Andrew sitting at the table, drinking what appeared to be the last cup of coffee. The pot was empty, and Della was at the counter prepping lunch.
Since Andrew had been making daily appearances at the ranch to counsel the girls, it wasn’t much of a surprise to see him. However, the fact that he had an open bottle of whiskey next to his cup gave Cassie a moment’s pause.
“Uh, is something wrong?” Cassie asked.
Della glanced at her, giving her what Cassie could only describe as a sympathetic look. “I sent Mia to the sunroom to play with the cats,” Della said. “Mackenzie’s with her. I thought it was for the best.” Then she excused herself an
d left the kitchen. Definitely not a good sign since she’d been in the middle of chopping an onion.
“Sit down,” Andrew said, and it sounded like an order.
For that reason alone Cassie stood, and she huffed. “Look, Andrew, I’m grateful you were there after Hannah died. You kept me from falling apart—”
“You did fall apart,” he argued.
“No. I had panic attacks, and plenty of people have them without having to stay in Sweet Meadows.” It had taken her a while, too long, but now that she’d distanced herself from that place, she knew it hadn’t been a good idea. “Being there made me feel as if I needed to be there.”
That probably didn’t make sense to him, but she wasn’t sure she cared. What she did care about right now was a cup of coffee. The caffeine hit would help her headache so Cassie went to the counter and started a fresh pot. While she was waiting, she decided to wash her hands and finish chopping the onion for Della.
“Is there a reason for all this hostility I’m sensing coming from you?” Andrew asked. This time he sounded like a therapist. Her therapist. “Maybe there’s something you’d like to tell me? You know, before I find out on my own.”
That didn’t sound like a fishing-expedition sort of comment. Of course, Cassie had been chilly to him so maybe he was picking up on the fact that she wanted him to leave Spring Hill.
“I know you’re thinking about throwing your career away,” he continued. “But I didn’t think you’d trash mine in the process.”
Cassie stopped, turned, and she was certain there was confusion and alarm on her face. On Andrew’s face, too, but then she realized her eyes had watered from the onion and she was holding up the knife as if she were the star of a slasher movie. Cassie eased the knife back onto the counter.
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
“Don’t play games with me.”
She shook her head, causing him to huff. Apparently, he wasn’t going to take her head shake as proof that she didn’t have a clue what was going on. Then she rubbed her eyes and made the stinging and burning significantly worse.
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