Then she’d thought of the message from her father she’d retrieved right after hitting the road.
“Jo, it’s Dad,” he’d said. “I just…I just wanted to apologize for yesterday. I’ve never spoken to you like that before. Never in your life. And I’m sick to my stomach that I did it then.” He’d paused. “Well, okay…that’s all I wanted to say.”
He hadn’t needed to say more. That had been enough for her to turn her truck around and head for her hometown.
Now she sat down the road from the house she’d grown up in, watching for activity, he truck partially concealed by a thatch of evergreens. She didn’t even know if her mother had been released from the hospital yet. But given that her father’s customized van was parked in the driveway, she was guessing she had. Jo couldn’t imagine her dad leaving her mother’s bedside for even a moment.
The dull ache in her chest grew more urgent. What was it like to love someone so much? To dedicate your life to another person come rain or shine? Experience a connection to the point that it eclipsed you as an individual and made you part of a greater whole?
A scant week ago, she would have said she hadn’t the faintest clue. But knowing Trace had given her a glimpse of just such a bond. Even now, Jo wished she could talk to him about what was going through her mind. Ask for his opinion. Or simply melt into his arms and ask him to hold her.
Never, ever had she felt that way with anyone outside her family.
And what was he doing now? Was he thinking about her? Was he experiencing this same dull ache? The sense that something was missing?
At a sudden movement, Jo sat up, watching her father emerge from the side door, the dogs doing figure eights around his feet. She knew her mother liked to visit with the canines, and since it was difficult for her to go outside to them, her father brought them inside to her.
Jo’s hands grew damp where they rested against the steering wheel. Overnight, her father had seemed to age at least ten years. His hair appeared a little whiter, his shoulders more stooped, even as he rained affection on the dogs.
Without realizing what she planned to do, Jo started the truck and pulled it into the driveway, parking it next to her father’s van. He straightened upright, looking at her as she shut off the engine and got out.
“Daddy,” she said.
“Jo.”
He opened his arms wide and she went into them, listening to his quiet apologies, wishing that yesterday had never happened. Jo absorbed his every word, took comfort in his tight hug.
She pulled back. “How’s Mama?”
The way he immediately looked away told her to brace herself. That he might not tell her the truth. But then he met her gaze again and took a deep breath. “You know your mama. The instant she got home, she wanted me to fix her a spread fit for the holidays, something to make up for all that awful hospital food.”
Jo nodded.
And then he did something she wouldn’t have anticipated. He grinned. “I made her a broiled chicken breast and greens.”
Jo laughed. “And for dessert?”
“Fresh fruit.”
“She must be livid.”
“Well, she ain’t happy, that’s for sure.”
They stood there for long moments. The sun was slipping quickly over the horizon, shading the house and surrounding property with warm red-gold hues.
“I’ve decided that she needs to have that surgery, Jo. If I have to sell off some of the property in order to afford it, by God, I will.”
Jo took his arm and started walking with him toward the house. “Why is it that you always think you’re alone in this?”
“What?”
She squeezed his elbow. “I have the money, Daddy. And I can’t think of a better investment I’d like to make than in the health of my mama.”
“I…I can’t…”
“You can and you will. I’m not some stranger offering you a handout, Daddy. I’m your daughter. And Daisy Mae’s my mother. We’re a family. And right now we’re going to have to pull together in order to preserve it.”
She opened the door for him.
“I’m also going to be sticking around to help you both through this.” She shrugged. “The way I figure it, you’re going to need all the help you can get with Miss Daisy Mae. They don’t come any more stubborn. I should know, because I’ve been noticing the same traits in me.”
The look of pride and gratitude on her father’s face was almost Jo’s undoing.
What she felt, seeing it, was something she would never have experienced had she continued driving west instead of coming back home.
What a shame that would have been. What a shame, indeed.
Chapter Twenty-Five
JO BURROWED FURTHER under the covers of her childhood bed, held captive by a dream that starred one hot ranch owner by the name of Trace Armstrong. He was riding tall on his horse, the bright Texas sun shining behind him, making him little more than an outline, throwing his features into shadow.
He seemed reluctant to rejoin the rest of the men on the drive. He was waiting for something. Jo looked behind her and then realized it wasn’t something he was waiting for, but someone.
Her.
“Jo?”
The sound of her name jerked her upright in the bed. Her breathing was labored and she was sweating, although the air conditioner kept the house almost icebox cold. Her father stood in the doorway, his hand on the knob. The light told her it was already well into morning.
She grabbed her cell phone from the nightstand table. “What time is it?” she rasped.
“It’s just past ten.”
She’d slept till ten o’clock? She couldn’t remember a time when she’d slept past dawn, much less this late.
She scrambled to get out of bed.
“Whoa, where’s the fire?” her father asked with a chuckle.
Jo realized that she didn’t have anywhere to be. There was no drive for her to catch up with. No job for her to report to.
Still, she had the feeling she needed to be doing something.
“Would you like me to fix you some toast for breakfast? Something to tide you over till lunch?” her father asked.
She shook her head. “No, no. I can get it myself.” She forced herself to relax. “But thanks.”
“No problem.”
Her father began to close the door to give her privacy, but then opened it again.
“By the way, we have a visitor.”
Jo squinted at him. “A visitor? Don’t we have an appointment with the doctor at eleven-thirty?”
“That we do.”
“So who’s here then?”
Her father smiled at her. “Why don’t you clean up and see for yourself.”
He closed the door.
Jo tossed the top sheet off, clad in her usual T-shirt and panties, and walked to the window. Her room over-looked the driveway. She spotted a familiar truck parked beside hers. The sight of the Wildewood logo—two Ws—made her heart skip a beat.
Holy shit!
Forgetting her attire, she rushed out into the hall, instantly hearing the sound of Trace’s voice. She couldn’t make out what he’d said, but she did recognize her mother’s words.
“So you’re the fine man that JoEllen Sue’s been hiding from us,” Daisy Mae said, sounding pleased.
Jo poked her head around the corner. Her mother was seated in her usual chair, all powered up in preparation for her appointment. Trace was seated to her right, grinning at her as if she were still the beautiful woman in the pictures behind her.
“I don’t know if that’s the case, Mrs. Atchison—”
“Please, please, call me Daisy Mae.”
“Very well then. What I was saying, Miss Daisy Mae, is that I’m not sure how Jo will feel about my being here.”
Jo made a small sound and everyone looked at her, including her father, who had just taken his seat across from his wife.
“JoEllen Sue!” her mother exclaimed. “You look a mess
. Go clean yourself up. Is that any way to welcome a visitor?”
Trace had gotten to his feet, holding his hat across his chest. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost, but Jo got the impression it wasn’t because she looked a mess. Instead, he appeared to be doing that waiting she’d imagined in her dream.
She mumbled something and ducked back into the hall, then leaned against the wall, trying to get control over her heartbeat.
What was he doing there? Had she forgotten something? Had he come to bring it to her?
She heard her mother start to relate an incident in her childhood, and Jo sprang into action, darting into the bathroom and closing the door before her mom made her dad get the family picture albums down from the dining room cabinet.
Within minutes Jo was in the shower. She was so quick to lather up that she didn’t immediately realize where the blood on her washcloth had come from.
Her period.
She’d gotten her period.
Damn.
She swallowed hard, unsure what to make of her reaction. Was she truly disappointed that she wasn’t pregnant with Trace’s baby? Yes, she realized, she was.
She finished her shower and got dressed. While she might not be the prime example of the single, Southern woman her mother might want, she was presentable.
Jo walked into the living room and stopped just inside. Trace immediately stood again, followed by her father.
“Oh, for God’s sake, sit down the two of you. Or else I’ll get up when either of you enter the room.”
Daisy Mae laughed. “That’s our JoEllen Sue for you. She always has been a tomboy. Lord knows I’ve tried over the years. But when I caught her stuffing a pink tutu I’d bought her into the trash compactor when she was three…well, I knew my battle was going to be all uphill.”
Trace raised a brow, laughter lighting his eyes at the tidbit. “Oh, I don’t know, Miss Daisy Mae. I think you’ve done a fine job raising Jo. A fine job indeed.”
Jo felt warm all over.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a man to the house. That’s because she never had, she realized. Not a prom date, not a crush, not a single member of the opposite sex had ever stepped foot in the Atchison house. Mostly because she’d never thought enough of one to bring him home.
Partly because she was afraid he might judge her mother.
She watched the way Trace interacted with her mom and felt a mix of shame and pride. He didn’t even appear to notice how overweight she was, and seemed to genuinely enjoy his conversation with her.
Her father got up again. “Well, Daisy Mae, it’s time we should be getting ready for that appointment.”
“So soon? Can’t we postpone it? I haven’t hardly had a chance to talk to Mr. Armstrong here.”
Jo exchanged nervous glances with her dad. How hard should they push the issue? Was this just a maneuver to avoid having the surgery? Or was she pushing her luck, knowing they would never argue with her while in the presence of a stranger?
Trace stood up in turn. “With your permission, I would like to visit again. Say, maybe later this afternoon?”
“Perfect!” Daisy Mae said. “You’ll come for dinner then. It’s settled.”
Relief and gratitude filled Jo to overflowing for how he had easily solved what could have been an ugly problem.
The two men shook hands, then Trace took her mother’s hand in both of his, telling her how nice it was to meet her. Then Lyndon looked at Jo. “Why don’t you take Mr. Armstrong out back and show him around the place?”
Of course. Her father didn’t want her mother to be embarrassed by having Trace watch her being moved.
To their surprise, Daisy Mae said, “Actually, I think I’d like Mr. Armstrong to see me out to the van.”
Fifteen minutes later, with her mother safely secured in the van’s back seat, Jo and Trace watched her father back out of the driveway and head for the specialist’s office in town, some five miles away.
Jo released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
“Your mama’s a piece of work.”
She looked at him.
“She could charm the rattle off a rattlesnake.”
Jo laughed as they walked back toward the house together. “That she could.”
She didn’t need to tell him about Daisy Mae’s problems. She already had. And that he wasn’t pursuing the issue or pointing out the obvious made her feel even closer to him.
She opened the door and he motioned for her to precede him inside.
The instant the screen door clapped shut, they were on each other as if they hadn’t seen one another for a year, instead of a day.
Jo couldn’t seem to get enough of kissing Trace. She supposed the fear she’d experienced over the very real possibility of never kissing him again fed her need, but she wasn’t in a thinking frame of mind just then. Instead, she gave herself over to pure instinct, wrapping her legs around his hips and thrusting her fingers into his short, springy hair even as he pressed her against the refrigerator door, then lifted her on top of the counter.
“No, no, not here,” she said. “My bedroom. Down at the end of the hall to the right.”
She was pretty sure she knocked one of her mother’s knickknacks off a table as they went, but Jo couldn’t think about that right now. All she could focus on was that she wanted this man and she wanted him now.
Then she remembered that she’d gotten her period.
Trace laid her back on her bed and peeled himself off her so he could work at the fastener on her jeans.
“Stop,” she whispered, groaning loudly. “We can’t.”
“Sure we can. I know you probably have some qualms about doing it in your parents’ house—”
She smiled, welcoming him into her arms. “It’s not that. I…it’s that time of month.”
Trace stilled, then pulled back to look into her face.
She didn’t have to say anything. What she was feeling was mirrored in his expression. Disappointment. A bit of sadness. Even though she’d told him she’d gotten her period the day before, he must not have believed her. Not if he was feeling what he was now.
Trace got up. “Where’s the bathroom?”
She pointed.
He came back with a handful of towels.
Jo laughed and got up to strip off her clothes.
“JO?”
Trace hated to rouse her, but an hour had passed since her parents had left.
“Hmm?”
“How far away is the doctor’s office?”
She blinked several times, and then nearly fell out of the narrow bed in her hurry to get up. “Oh, God. They’ll be home any minute.”
He chuckled, watching as she quickly dressed.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “Put on some clothes.”
“Not until I say what I have to.”
“Christ, Trace, what’s so important that it can’t wait?”
He grasped her slender wrist and tugged her to lie on top of him. “Well, if you’d just stop for a minute, maybe I’d have a chance to tell you.”
They were nose to nose. Thankfully, Jo seemed to catch on to the gravity of what he was about to say, and didn’t fight him. But she did pull back enough that she was more than a blurry outline.
“What is it?”
“I’m not going to rush this, Jo, so you’d better just stop now.”
Trace searched her pretty face. She’d told him this was the first time she’d brought a man home, and the first time she’d slept with one in her childhood bed. He hoped this was the beginning of a long line of firsts they would share together.
He coughed, trying to push the words out. “You know, when that guy Carter came back after you’d essentially cut him off, I remember thinking of him as a poor sap. I thought he was a guy who couldn’t seem to get it through his thick skull that you didn’t want to have anything to do with him. And that nothing he could say would make you change your mind.”
; Jo grimaced as if she couldn’t understand where he was going with this. He didn’t blame her. He didn’t know exactly where he was going, either.
“I remember thinking that I would never do something like that. Never, um, put myself in that kind of position.”
He brushed back a strand of her hair from her cheek, and smiled. “Then you left me yesterday…”
He remembered the rush of emotion. The fear that he’d never see her again, that she would go away forever, never knowing how he was coming to feel about her.
“And…” He swallowed, the sound loud in the quiet room. “And I knew in that one instant that I had become Carter.”
Jo looked at him, her attention so rapt it took his breath away.
“I guess what I’m trying to say, Jo, is that I would do anything, say anything, to keep you as a part of my life.”
He held her gaze for what seemed like forever, not about to hide from her now that he’d revealed all.
“Are you saying that you love me, cowboy?” she whispered.
“I’m saying that I love you.”
She didn’t respond immediately. For a second, Trace thought she might roll off the bed.
Then she smiled from ear to ear. “Good. Because it would be a damn shame for me to love you if you didn’t love me back.”
Trace curved a hand behind her head and pulled her close to kiss her. He swore he could feel her heart beating against his own. And that the two organs were in sync.
They both heard the van pull into the driveway at the same time.
“Oh, God.” Jo tried to get up, but Trace held her firmly in place. “What are you doing? We’re going to get caught,” she argued.
He kissed her deeply, satisfied when she forgot her intentions and languidly kissed him back. So long as he could have that effect on her, and she on him, everything was going to be more than okay. It was going to be great.
Epilogue
A SUNDAY OFF. Dawn just breaking in the east, with thick swirls of oranges and reds. Summer heat still emanating from the Texas soil, accumulated the day before.
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