Texas Heat

by Rhonda Laurel

“I thought you could use some company.” She bit her lip.

  “Please, come in.” Tate took her suitcase.

  They waved to Morgan and Seth, who waved back and drove off in Seth’s pickup.

  “Watch your step,” Tate said as he guided Isabelle around the broken glass.

  “What happened here?” She looked around the floor.

  “I guess I’m just clumsy tonight.”

  “Well, let’s clean that up. Rowdy could cut his paws on the glass.” She rubbed the dog on top of his head.

  He sighed. He’d forgotten Rowdy was in the house. “Of course.”

  While they cleaned up Isabelle made small talk about the trip down. She’d never been in a private plane before and was impressed with the staff and the food. He knew her well enough to know when she started rambling, she was nervous. He was too. She smiled at him and his heart almost broke in two. He was damn happy to see her, but he knew it couldn’t have been easy to just up and come to Texas. They cleaned up the mess and Isabelle vacuumed for good measure to make sure the pieces were all gone.

  “I’m glad you’re here, but don’t you have that wedding this weekend?”

  “Don’t worry about that.” She put the vacuum back in the closet.

  She asked to take a shower, so he helped with a plastic covering for her cast and showed her the way to the master bathroom. That gave him a chance to make her a cup of tea.

  He walked into the bedroom when she’d finished her shower to find her wearing his Bright Star Saloon T-shirt. She looked good in it. It was too big for her, but she looked comfortable. Normally a man with very steady hands, he had to will himself to stop shaking as he put the cup and saucer on the nightstand.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed your T-shirt,” she murmured.

  He smiled. “Not at all. That’s one of my favorites.”

  “What is the Bright Star Saloon?”

  “It’s the local watering hole where I got my start. Cal, the owner, was the first person to ever give me a chance to perform. And”—he rubbed the back of his neck—“the boys and I get into trouble there every now and again.”

  “Ah-ha.” She laughed.

  “Listen, I want you to sleep in my bed tonight.”

  “I don’t think…” Isabelle awkwardly pulled on the clip in her hair.

  He held up a hand. “I will be downstairs on the couch.”

  “Oh…”

  He looked up and saw that she was doing the pouty thing again. Was she disappointed?

  “That’s OK, I can sleep on the couch. A big man like you doesn’t need a bad night’s sleep when you have such an important day ahead of you.” She retrieved a pillow from the bed and headed for the door.

  He blocked the doorway. “Hold on now. I’ll have you know I fall asleep downstairs more than I do in this bed. That couch can hold me, my guitar, Loulabelle, and—”

  “Let me guess, at least three women?” She hugged the pillow.

  “No, I was going to say a slab of ribs and a bucket of potato salad. I have no idea how many women that couch can hold because there have never been any women here.” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh.” She sat on the bed. “Now I feel like a royal idiot. I just barged in on your fortress of solitude. I’ll call Morgan. I can stay with her and Seth tonight.”

  “The hell you will. You came all the way down here. I’m not going to throw you out. I want you here,” Tate said a little bit louder than he’d planned.

  She gave him a curious look. “Then I guess that’s settled.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I have something I want to show you.” He reached over and retrieved a remote control from the night table.

  “This had better not be a vibrating bed.” She spied the contraption.

  He laughed. “I can make the bed vibrate, but this is better. Push the button.”

  The look on her face was priceless when the skylight opened. It was clear out, and a million stars sparkled in the sky.

  “This is beautiful.” She widened her eyes. “What do you see when you look up there?”

  “Let’s follow that star in the corner.” Tate guided Isabelle’s gaze across the stars until she figured out what he was outlining.

  “It’s a violin!”

  “No, actually it’s a fiddle.”

  “Violin,” she insisted. “I play the damn thing for a living. It’s a violin.”

  “Woman, that’s a fiddle.”

  He was fully prepared to argue with her all night, but she suddenly leaned over and kissed him. He knew she was just trying to quiet him, and it worked.

  “Maybe it is a violin,” he groaned as they pulled apart.

  She smirked. “Thought you’d see it my way.”

  “You know, when I figured out what it reminded me of, I wondered why I was able to see a violin when I play the guitar.”

  She went silent.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  “What happens to me if I can’t play after my physical therapy?”

  “I don’t believe there’s a force in the universe that could keep a violin out of your hands.” He took a deep breath. “Isabelle?”

  “Yes?”

  “Did you really hurt your arm rock climbing?”

  When her body stiffened, he knew the answer. His breathing quickened, and he started calculating if he could go to Georgia tonight and kick her ex-husband’s ass and be back in time for the funeral tomorrow morning.

  She tightened her hold on the pillow. “I was having a fight with Ned. He came over drunk one night. I’d never seen him like that. He was trying to make apologies, asking me to reconsider the divorce even though we’d signed the papers weeks ago. I said no. He lunged at me, and I tried to get out of the way. I fell near the fireplace.”

  He stood up and started pacing. “That asshole needs a good old-fashioned ass whoopin’. Why the hell are you telling everyone you fell rock climbing?”

  She stood up too. “Because of how you are reacting now. I don’t want someone I love to go to jail for beating Ned to a pulp for what was, for the most part, an accident.”

  “You wouldn’t be hurt if he hadn’t come to harass you about taking him back.”

  “And I do regret answering the door. I truly thought he was coming to get the rest of his things. He had a few boxes that I’d told him I was throwing away when I moved.” She closed her eyes.

  Isabelle looked as though she were resisting the urge to cry, which pissed him off even more.

  “It wasn’t your fault.” He stroked her cheek.

  She touched his hand. “Ned’s not worth it. I wouldn’t want to see you, my dad, or any of my cousins getting into trouble because of him. I am free of him.”

  “He still calls you.”

  “Because his mistress ended up being more high maintenance than he anticipated. I hear from mutual friends she’s bleeding his bank account dry. It’s a case of buyer’s remorse.”

  “Has he at least bothered to apologize for injuring you? For jeopardizing your livelihood and the thing you love most in the world?”

  “No. But I don’t want his apology. I just want him to stay away from me. I was dreading telling my family about our split, but in a way it was the greatest thing. They wanted to skin him alive after I told them he cheated on me. It was nice to see such a great show of support.”

  “Family can surprise you.”

  “And my dad would go ballistic if he knew. He’s in the marines and would probably order a missile airstrike to Ned’s house.”

  “That’s how people react when someone they love gets abused.”

  “It was only the one time. It wasn’t abuse.”

  “Take it from someone who lived with abuse most of his life, please don’t downplay it.”

  “What?”

  “My biological mom, Lila, was a singer and had a hell of a voice. She was up and coming and crossed paths with the wrong man, my father. He promised her the moon and the stars, so she abandoned he
r budding career and married him. He was a lousy drunk who beat her. She drank to numb herself from the beatings. Soon he started in on me. She didn’t protect me from it. She just drank more and pretended not to see. When it really started to get bad, the Blakes took me in, and I never went home after that.”

  She hugged him, and it was the best feeling in the world having her reach out to him. It was like last night on the phone, when he’d talked to her until the sun rose. He didn’t want the peace and the joy he was feeling to end.

  “Will you sleep with me tonight?”

  “What?” He snapped out of his daydream.

  “The bed is big enough for the two of us, and I’d feel terrible having you sleep on the couch. I promise I won’t try anything.”

  Tate didn’t put up a fight when she moved back the covers and pulled him into bed with her. She fit like a glove next to him as he lay on his back and she cuddled up to his side, the arm in the cast resting on his chest. Her silky curls fell onto his neck and felt like feathers brushing against his skin. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to have this woman in his bed, to be connected to her, and it scared the hell out of him.

  She smiled. “Can we leave the skylight open all night?”

  “Sure can.” Tate ran a hand through her hair.

  Isabelle cuddled closer to him, and it didn’t take long for the soft sounds of sleep to come from her. She’d had a long day traveling to get there. To be there for him. He was relieved she’d finally told the truth about what had happened to her arm. The concern she had for her protectors was touching, but men like Ned increased their aggressive behavior because no one ever took the time to stop them when they began to act violently.

  Her story sounded like one of the many excuses Lila had made for Joe. He wondered how many other times Ned had exhibited threatening behavior but she failed to realize what lurked underneath. The outbursts, the possessiveness, even though they were no longer married, made warning bells go off in Tate’s head. He was grateful that she divorced him before he showed his true colors. Tate gazed at the violin constellation above, wishing he could pull it out of the sky for her.

  * * *

  After months of hearing Morgan speak about the dynamic Blake family, Isabelle finally got to see the Blakes in action, and it was surreal to be in the middle of it all. She felt like she was on the movie set of a modern day Western with so many tall, well-dressed men in cowboy hats. It was a somber occasion and she was in a church, but damn, there were a lot of handsome men walking around. She hadn’t been introduced to anyone, but she encountered a lot of people who seemed to know who she was already. An older man in particular had been watching her for a while when she’d been outside taking a walk with Jake. She knew he wasn’t from the ranch, and the way he stared made her uncomfortable. If she had to, she’d go get one of the Blakes, but for right now it was more than creepy that he was fixated on her when there was a funeral going on.

  Tate was holding up well, maybe a little too well. She didn’t expect him to bawl during the funeral, but she was hoping he’d find some way to say his last good-byes to his biological mother. He stood by the casket and looked at her for the longest time. Teri-Lyn walked up to him and must have said something to cheer him up because he smiled at her. That was the first time she’d seen that gorgeous smile all day. John Jacob and J.J. approached them, so Teri-Lyn excused herself and came heading her way.

  Isabelle did a slight head turn, pretending she was looking for something, trying to get away, but she bumped into Morgan.

  “Whoa!” she said as she knocked into her. “I didn’t hurt the baby did I?”

  “No, of course not.” Morgan smiled.

  Isabelle rubbed Morgan’s belly furiously in apology. Teri-Lyn was getting closer.

  “Please, I get more intense body shots from Seth when we’re making love.”

  “Really?” Isabelle raised an eyebrow.

  “After he plays a game, we go into OT at home.” Morgan winked at her.

  “I want all the details later,” Isabelle whispered and tried to walk away.

  Morgan grabbed her. “Don’t run, you’ll only make it worse.”

  Isabelle and Morgan were standing together like two grinning idiots when Teri-Lyn approached.

  “How are you feeling, Teri-Lyn?” Morgan kissed her on the cheek.

  “I’m OK. Just worried about my boy.” Teri-Lyn looked back at Tate.

  “Have you met my cousin?” Morgan gestured toward Isabelle.

  “No, but I’ve heard a lot about her.” Teri-Lyn smiled.

  Isabelle tried to swallow the huge lump in her throat. What had Teri-Lyn heard? “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “I’m happy to meet you too,” Teri-Lyn said. “I just wish it were under better circumstances. I hope you can stay on after the funeral. We can spend some time together.”

  “I’d like that.” The look in Teri-Lyn’s eyes gave Isabelle a warm feeling inside—not the terror she’d expected.

  Teri-Lyn turned to Morgan. “Where is my grandson?”

  “Seth took him outside for a walk.” Morgan pointed to the door.

  Teri-Lyn patted her stomach. “And how are you doing?

  “Fine. Just a little tired.”

  Isabelle looked up and saw a woman hugging Tate a little too tightly. “Who is that?”

  “That’s Chrissie Winterbourne,” Teri-Lyn said.

  “Chrissie sure likes to hug.”

  Morgan and Teri-Lyn looked at her.

  Teri-Lyn continued. “That burly man behind her who doesn’t appreciate the long hug either is her husband, Caine.”

  “Oh look, Penny’s here too. Jake will be happy to see her. Seth, not so much.” Morgan smirked.

  “The Penny?” Isabelle glared at her.

  “We’ve resolved our differences. She gave Jake the cutest ‘my first doctor kit’ for his birthday.”

  “How about we get some fresh air?” Teri-Lyn smiled at Isabelle.

  “Sure.”

  Teri-Lyn turned to leave, but then she stopped. The prayer card in her hand slipped out of her grasp and hit the floor. Isabelle reached down to retrieve it, but when she stood up Teri-Lyn’s smile had turned into a frown.

  “Is there something wrong?”

  “I can’t believe he had the nerve to show his face.”

  Isabelle turned around and saw the older man who had been staring at her earlier headed toward Tate. The patrons sitting in the pews were whispering to one another, their eyes all on the scene before them. The Blake men all had the same statue-like posture, as if they were getting ready for a brawl. This mysterious man was not a welcomed guest. A pit formed in the bottom of Isabelle’s stomach. Only one person could evoke such dread.

  Teri-Lyn clenched her teeth. “That’s Joe McGill, Tate’s biological father.”

  Tate’s grip on Lila’s casket tightened as Joe McGill sauntered into the church and walked toward the casket with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. A hush fell over the church. Tate came up the aisle and stood in Joe’s way.

  “She was a hell of a lady,” Joe McGill said to his son.

  “We’re in a church, Joe, can you refrain from using that word?”

  Joe looked around. “You’re absolutely right. Where are my manners?”

  He’d never had any. Tate took a good look at him. He’d lost a lot of weight, or maybe gotten shorter, because he certainly didn’t seem as big and imposing as before. Purple shadows stood under Joe’s eyes—he was still drinking. Tate could smell the liquor on his breath. Joe tried to smile, revealing a few more teeth missing than Tate had remembered.

  “Look how you’ve grown, all clean and fancy,” Joe said as he placed the flowers on one of the pews. “I remember when you were a scrawny little runt.”

  Tate moved closer to his father and looked down at him. Tate had four inches on him now. “Not so scrawny anymore.”

  “I see that and a big-time country music star. You got your mother’s pipes, that�
�s for sure. Lila was headed to the top when I met her.” He whistled.

  “Then you shot her down.”

  “It wasn’t always bad.” Joe played with the rim of his hat.

  Tate took a step back and shook his head in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

  “What do you mean, what am I doing here? She was my wife.”

  Joe went to move around Tate, but Tate wouldn’t budge. Joe lifted his hand up.

  Tate grabbed it and pushed him back. “She was more of a punching bag to you than a wife. Both of us were.”

  “Step aside, boy.” Joe tried to move past him again.

  Tate grabbed Joe by the lapels of his suit jacket and held him in place.

  Joe tried to get out of his grasp, but he couldn’t. “You just can’t let that go, can you? I’ve apologized and even repented for my sins and you still won’t forgive me.”

  “Forgiveness isn’t guaranteed just because you think you deserve it.” Tate glared at him.

  “You think you’re so high and mighty just because you spent time with the Blakes. Let me tell you something, boy, you’re a McGill down to the bone whether you believe it or not. I’m just trying to warn you. It’s something in us that can’t be controlled. I’ve seen you holding hands with that pretty girl all day. You love her, it’s written all over your face. Do yourself a favor and let that poor girl go. You’re only going to hurt her. You won’t have any control over it. If you really love her, then let her go.”

  “You go near her and I swear I’ll break your neck.” Tate clenched his jaw.

  “Joe.” John Jacob walked forward and gently removed Tate’s hands from Joe’s jacket.

  Joe straightened his clothes and gave a stiff nod. “John Jacob. I came to pay my respects to Lila. And to give the boy here some advice.”

  John Jacob shook his head. “There is nothing you could possibly tell him. Nothing good, anyway.”

  “He’s done well for himself, but don’t go trying to convince the boy life is all roses and happiness. I tried with Lila and ended up hurting them both.”

  “And then I hurt you. It may be fifteen years later, but I’ll still kick your ass like that night I did when I came to your house. You leave Tate alone. He’s a good man. You should be happy he broke the cycle of your crazy-ass kin.” John Jacob moved closer.