Isabelle nodded. “Yes.”
Morgan clasped her hands over her face. “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch.”
“No! Morgan, don’t get upset. It’s not good for your baby.”
“Izzy, he hurt you.”
“It was a bizarre accident, but I won’t give him the opportunity to hurt me again. So please, I just want to put it behind me.”
“If you say so,” Morgan grumbled and gave her a big hug.
They did some shopping before they went to the jeweler. Isabelle was excited and nervous about the surprise she had for Tate. The owner, Max, assured her that he would personally take care of her request. Afterward they checked out a few more stores, and Isabelle fell in love with yet another pair of cowboy boots. Their last stop was the craft store. Isabelle had a list of things she needed for the scrapbook she was going to make for Tate. Three hours later, she and Morgan headed back to the ranch to get ready for dinner with Tate and Seth.
* * *
Tate and Seth set the table while Isabelle and Morgan sat in the living room looking at the photo album of Jake’s birthday party. Tate and Seth had put their culinary skills together and had made braised beef ribs with glazed carrots and green beans. They picked up a red velvet cake from the local bakery for dessert. They’d spent most of the afternoon cooking and were glad it was finally time for dinner.
Seth looked for the corkscrew for the wine. “I can’t remember the last time we had a double date.”
“It was with the Martin twins, Heather and Hannah.” Tate cracked a smile.
“That’s right. That was a wild night.” Seth chuckled.
“How wild was it?” Isabelle said as she and Morgan came into the kitchen.
“Uhh…I think we took them to the museum and for a bite to eat.” Seth wouldn’t look up, concentrating on opening the bottle of wine.
Morgan turned to Tate. “Spill it, McGill.”
“It happened exactly as Seth said. I think he left out how we all went to choir rehearsal later that evening.” Tate flashed a cheesy smile.
“Tate McGill doesn’t want to tell one of the infamous stories of his youth?” Morgan looked at Isabelle. “Normally, he’ll squeal if you give him a longneck and a basket of cheese fries.”
“Baby, I think Tate is trying to impress Isabelle. Why don’t we let him have a peaceful evening?” Seth kissed Morgan.
“Tate, are you trying to impress me?” Isabelle raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a kiss as she took her seat.
Tate did curb his tongue during the meal, but he also entertained Isabelle and Morgan with stories of his and Seth’s youth. It felt good to share happy memories after thinking about the darker days with his parents for the last few weeks. He’d done so well burying the past.
Dinner tasted delicious and everyone was having a good time. Morgan couldn’t drink, so Seth kept the Shirley Temples coming. Tate glanced up a few times and saw Morgan and Seth looking at him and Isabelle. Somehow he’d moved closer to her and had his arm around the back of her chair. He didn’t know how long he’d been doing it or why he felt so strange that he wasn’t cognizant of it. But the weird feelings dissipated when she kissed him before she cleared his plate. The evening was going along perfectly until Seth got a call from Cal at the Bright Star.
“Hey, Cal. What’s going on?” Seth sighed as he listened to the voice on the other end. “OK. I’ll be there.”
Tate knew that look. That was the look Seth always got when they had to go kick somebody’s ass. He picked up the empty wine bottles off the table.
“What’s going on?” Tate said.
“Joe’s at the Bright Star making a scene and demanding to see you.”
“By all means, let’s give him what he wants.” Tate threw the bottles with such force into the recycling bin they shattered.
Isabelle and Morgan stilled.
“I don’t want you to go,” Isabelle said.
Tate closed his eyes for a moment. “Izzy, if I don’t go he’ll aggravate the hell out of everyone at the Bright Star. That’s my home away from home. He knows that, and it’s why he went there. He wouldn’t set foot on this ranch because he knows John Jacob would skin his hide.”
“I won’t let anything happen to him, Izzy.” Seth said.
Morgan rolled her eyes. “The last time you two went there you got arrested.”
“What?” Isabelle swallowed.
Seth cleared his throat. “That was a little boys-will-be-boys shenanigans.”
“I promise it won’t come to that.” Tate took her face in his hands.
“OK.” Isabelle put her hands over his.
Tate kissed her, then grabbed his hat and headed out the door with Seth. If Joe McGill wanted a fight tonight, he was ready for one.
* * *
When Tate and Seth pulled up to the Bright Star, the parking lot was swarming with activity. Most of the patrons were outside and the police and paramedics were there.
“Looks like the party already started,” Seth drawled.
“Hey, Danny, what happened?” Tate asked the bartender.
“The brawl of the century. No offense to you guys, that shit with you and the Winterbournes was epic.” Danny whistled.
“So who was fighting?” Tate glanced at Danny.
“Cal and Joe.”
Tate raced into the bar in search of Cal. He was sitting on the edge of the stage while a paramedic tried to put a bandage on his cheek.
“What the hell happened, Cal?” Tate looked him over.
“Joe and I had a difference of opinion. I thought he should get the hell out. He thought he should stay.”
“I’m so sorry about all of this.” Tate surveyed the room. Broken chairs and shattered glass lay scattered across the floor.
“Sorry for what? This ain’t your fault. This is all Joe. He came in here acting like a jackass, trying to trash-talk you. I drew the line at him grabbing your guitar off the wall.” Cal pushed the paramedic away.
“Where is he?” Tate clenched his jaw.
“The ambulance took him to the hospital.”
Tate turned to go, but Cal stopped him. “I saw him hassling you at the funeral, and now he kicked up trouble here. I think this is his way of getting back into your life. Lila is gone. He has no one whose buttons he can push anymore. He needs someone else to make feel like hell.”
“I’m not scared of him anymore. I’m bigger than him. I’m stronger.”
“And you’re a better man. Don’t think you have to stand up to him. You have nothing to prove. You’ll just feed Joe’s need to control. I know you’re a grown man, but no child should have to fight his parent. It changes a man when he crosses certain sacred boundaries. You fought back when you were little for survival. You survived and now you know better.”
“Thanks, Cal.” Tate walked out of the Bright Star trying to make sense of it all. Maybe Cal was right. Joe was looking for someone to fill that volatile void Lila had left in his life. As long as he was still angry with Joe, he was still that little kid trapped in that house of dysfunction. It was his turn to purge Joe out of his life and have the courage to close the door for good.
* * *
Tate sped through the arm’s length of chores Bo had given him today. He wanted to take Isabelle for a ride before sunset. The jokes about him being love struck were still running rampant on the ranch, but he was taking it in stride. He’d thanked J.J. for the chat he’d had with Isabelle about her arm. Her optimism seemed to be returning after J.J. had shared his story about his career-ending injury with her. Seth had even volunteered to help her with her physical therapy when the time came.
She’d been a great help to Tate. They had sorted through one of Lila’s boxes every night. He was amazed at the things she’d saved. She’d apparently attended his concerts every time he’d played in Texas and had saved the ticket stubs. He’d taken her Bible and put it on his bookshelf. It comforted him knowing some of her things wer
e scattered about his home.
He walked into Teri-Lyn’s house to find the women in the kitchen chatting. The moment his eyes connected with Isabelle’s, his heart skipped a beat.
“Hello, ladies.”
“Hey, baby. Did Bo work you to death?” Teri-Lyn kissed him on the cheek.
“Almost.” He laughed. “Morgan, how are you feeling?”
“Hungry. But what’s new these days?” She waved a hand at him.
“Do you ladies mind if I borrow Izzy?”
“Not at all.” Teri-Lyn smiled.
Tate shuffled closer to Isabelle. “Want to take a ride with me?”
“Of course.” Isabelle smiled at him.
Tate helped her into the truck and started driving. A knot was forming in the back of his neck. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he wasn’t so sure he could go through with it. She’d looked so pretty today in her hip-hugging jeans and pink shirt. She was wearing one of Morgan’s hats and a pair of cowboy boots she’d bought when she and Morgan had gone shopping last week.
Once he was off the ranch and was a few miles away, he realized he needed gas to finish the trip. They stopped at a gas station, and he filled up while she went inside to get something to drink.
Tate looked at the door, watching for Isabelle, when a mother came out with her son. He had his hands full with a toy and a bag of chips while his mother was trying to get him to eat some grapes. The youngster resisted at first, but after a few minutes of his mom fussing, he relented and let her feed him the grapes. A flash of Tate and Lila sitting on the porch, eating grapes, came to him. It had been a hot, sunny afternoon, and he’d just returned home from school. That was his favorite part of the day. Joe worked long hours and didn’t get home until seven. He could see his mother’s face plain as day. She always had a distant look on her face, as if she were a million miles away enjoying the life she really wanted. If she were in a good mood, she’d sing one of her old songs. He loved to hear her sing.
Isabelle’s laugh brought him out of his daydream. He turned to see her standing at the counter with her bag, but the young attendant didn’t seem to want to let her go. She smiled and told him to have a good day then scooted out of the store.
“Was he flirting with you?” Tate asked.
“I don’t think so. Everyone down here is so friendly.” She shrugged.
“Sure he wasn’t.” Tate closed his tank. He looked at her for a moment. He hadn’t even told her their destination. “Aren’t you curious about where we’re going?”
“I thought we were running away together.” She stood up on her toes and kissed him.
Tate pulled her close and gave a long, slow kiss back. He helped her into the truck and got back on the road. The sun would be setting soon, and he didn’t want to be away from the ranch too long. Finally, when he turned down a familiar dirt road, his gut tightened. Isabelle looked around as Tate stopped in the front yard of a dilapidated house. The patchy grass was brown. The screen door hung off the hinges. The railing was missing as well as some of the planks on the porch. Duct tape covered some of the broken windows. He took hold of her hand as they walked up the rotted porch steps.
“How long did you live here?” Isabelle squeezed his hand.
“Too long. See that little shed all the way down there?”
Isabelle squinted. “I see it.”
“Whenever Joe came home in a bad mood and would start up, I’d grab my things and run as fast as I could to that shed. He never could catch me.” Tate gazed out at the field.
“Running fast came in handy for your high school football days.”
“I was good. Sharp. I know why Seth loves football. It makes you think on your feet, literally.”
“And you’ve been running ever since.” She pushed up his hat to see his eyes.
The ghosts were still there. Tate had to force himself not to feel like that seven-year-old boy running for his life, not knowing if today would be the day Joe would do something to hurt him or Lila. He was saved by the Blakes, but for years he felt guilty for not being there for Lila. For not remaining and taking the abuse with her, he felt as though he failed her somehow. She was the only other person on the planet who knew what Joe’s wrath was like, and he left her.
Tate looked into Isabelle’s eyes, comforted by what he saw. He didn’t see pity. He saw caring and concern being reflected back to him. She didn’t think he was too damaged to love.
Tate took a deep breath. “What if I didn’t want to run anymore?”
“Walking is good too. Sitting still is even better.”
“If I stopped running, would you walk with me for a while?”
Isabelle rubbed her hand along his face. “I’d walk with you forever.”
Tate kissed her hand. “Come on, let’s go home.”
Chapter Ten
As soon as they entered the cabin, something in Tate opened up. All the way back to the ranch, he’d been thinking she was too beautiful for words. She was pretty and loveable and had the greatest laugh he’d ever heard come from a woman. She was everything he’d been looking for his whole life. Tate grabbed Izzy, pulled her in for a kiss, and walked backward until he reached the kitchen. He wanted her now. He needed to feel her soft skin pressed against his as if his life depended on it. Tate tore off his shirt and lifted her up on the kitchen table. Isabelle planted a trail of kisses down his stomach while unbuttoning his pants.
Tate pulled her back and kissed her. He pulled on the ribbon tied into a bow at the top of her shirt. He stopped for a moment to admire how provocative she looked, then proceeded to pull it over her head. Take kicked off his boots and stepped out of his jeans, then grabbed a condom out of his wallet. He put it on and pulled her forward so her ass met the edge of the table.
He thrust inside her, and she held on to his biceps, content to ride this manic wave with him. He pushed her further onto the kitchen table and followed, laying on top of her and thankful that he’d bought a sturdy, solid table. They were skin to skin, his lips touching hers. Her breath pressed against his chest. He was in pretty deep, but he lifted her leg and plunged even deeper until she let out a gasp. Isabelle’s eyes were closed, her hair spread about the kitchen table, and he needed to be as deeply inside of her as possible. Tate continued sliding in and out until he was at the point where his heart would either give out from physical exhaustion or from loving her too much. When he finally reached his climax, he pulled her hair gently to make her open her eyes and see how much he wanted her when he released inside her.
* * *
Tate lay awake for the fifth night in a row. He’d been jolted awake from the same nightmare he’d had ever since he visited his old house. For two weeks his dreams about Isabelle were getting progressively worse, and for two weeks he did his best to hide them from her. In tonight’s dream Isabelle was lying on the floor, hurt and crying. When he went to reach for her, she’d cower away from him. Joe’s bitter words at the funeral kept playing in his head like a broken record. Was there a McGill curse of dysfunction? Was he destined to treat Isabelle badly? Perhaps there was something in him genetically predisposed against loving someone and having a healthy relationship. Every time he’d felt himself getting close and giving her his heart, he’d back away. The word love had lingered on his lips for weeks, but he was afraid to say it. Joe had loved Lila—once. Joe may have even loved Tate once.
He was raised by John Jacob, but what if he had Joe tucked away inside him too? He’d never felt this deeply for someone. How could he be sure that some latent gene wouldn’t be activated when he least knew it? According to Lila, Joe had been a good man once, but something changed in him. The idea that Tate could treat any woman badly, especially Isabelle, made him sick to his stomach.
He loved her. He’d never committed to a woman in his life, and he avoided relationships like the plague, but he loved this woman with all his heart. She was the best thing in his life, and he couldn’t be sure if he’d turn on her in some way. H
e’d never forgive himself if he failed her too.
His manager, Cyril, had talked about doing a few more tour dates, but he kept turning him down to try to make time to work on his new album. That single was still going strong, and Cyril thought he could still capitalize on that. Working would keep him away from Isabelle and give him some time to think about how to let her down gently. He’d tell her about the tour, and then would be so seemingly busy that she’d grow frustrated waiting for him to have time for her.
Determined not to wake Isabelle out of a sound sleep, he went downstairs and got a beer out of the fridge. He puttered around the living room, mulling over the plan he just concocted. It was best for both of them. Tate picked up his cell phone and dialed Cyril, who answered on the first ring.
“Hey, Cyril, it’s Tate. I think those extra tour dates would be a good idea. I have to get away for a while. What do you have in mind?”
Isabelle stood at the top of the stairs, listening to Tate’s conversation with his manager. She’d noticed his absence almost immediately when he’d left the bed, and after a half hour, she thought she’d go see what he was doing. She thought he’d made some sort of breakthrough when he visited his old house. She knew about the nightmares but suspected he didn’t want to talk about it. The night they stayed up talking she saw the dam he’d built up around his life, the parts he didn’t want anyone to see, was dangerously close to breaking. She just hoped he wouldn’t be drowned by his past.
She’d peeked in the notebook he used to write his songs. Most of the songs were unfinished. Instead of playful lyrics around good times and hot women, meaningful verses of love, loss, and the struggle to be human plagued him. What would become of a playboy country-western singer who could no longer come up with flirty lyrics that drove millions of women into a tizzy? Tate was on the verge of so many things and had so little time. The deadline for his album was labeled on the first page of the notebook. Perhaps it was time to leave before he pushed her away.
Texas Heat Page 12