Heat crawled up Macy's neck when she realized that her entrance had drawn several curious looks—a few from people she remembered approaching with questions about her mother when she'd first arrived in town. Feeling conspicuous and totally out of place, she decided to make a quick exit. But as she turned to leave, she heard her name called and glanced back to find a woman hurrying her way.
"I'm so glad you finally made it," the woman said, and grabbed her hand. "You probably don't remember me, but I'm Elizabeth Tanner, Rory's sister-in-law."
It took a moment for Macy to place the woman. "Yeah," she said slowly. "You're Woodrow's wife."
Smiling, Elizabeth drew her with her toward the party. "I promised Rory that I would keep an eye out for you. He was afraid you'd take one look at this wild crowd and turn tail and run."
Since that was exactly what she had planned to do, Macy remained silent.
"We were all surprised when Rory told us he'd invited you," Elizabeth continued.
Stunned, Macy jerked to a stop.
Laughing, Elizabeth patted her arm. "I didn't mean that we were surprised that he'd invited you particularly. It's just that Rory usually doesn't bring a date to these social functions." She leaned close to whisper, "He prefers to remain footloose and fancy free, if you know what I mean."
"Yeah," Macy said wryly. "I think I do."
Before Elizabeth could say more, another woman joined them. Maggie, if Macy remembered correctly. Ace's wife.
"Thank goodness you're here," Maggie said in relief. "I've had to all but hog-tie Rory to keep him from leaving and going after you. And he's the host, for heaven's sake! You'd think the man would know he can't leave his own party."
Macy stared, unsure what to say but Maggie saved her from a reply by grabbing her other hand.
"Come on," she urged, and gave her a tug. "Let's find him and tell him you're here, before he makes the social blunder of the year by leaving."
Trapped between Rory's sisters-in-law, Macy had no choice but go along with them. A glass of champagne was shoved into her hand at the same moment she spotted Rory. As if sensing her presence, he glanced her way. A smile spread across his face and he shot her a wink then quickly separated himself from the group of men he was talking to and headed her way.
"I see you found her," he said to his sisters-in-law.
"We did," Maggie confirmed, then frowned at the buffet table. "You're running low on champagne," she said, then gave his cheek a distracted pat and turned away, saying, "But don't worry. Elizabeth and I will take care of it."
Left alone with Rory, Macy was struck by a sudden attack of shyness. "Great party."
"It is now that you're here." He caught her hand and gave her an appreciative look up and down. "That sure is a pretty dress," he said, then drew her hand to his lips. "But personally, I prefer you in nothing at all."
Her cheeks blazing, she shot a furtive glance around. "Have you lost your mind?" she whispered furiously. "Someone might have heard you."
Laughing, he looped an arm around her waist and guided her toward the buffet table. "What's wrong? Afraid I'll ruin your reputation?"
She shot him a sour look. "No. I was more worried about me bolstering yours."
* * *
As the evening wore on, Macy actually found herself enjoying the party. Not that surprising, really, since Rory's family made every effort to see that she had a good time. Each time Rory was forced to leave her side, one or the other of his sisters-in-law would head her way and chat with her until he returned. His brothers did their part, too, by seeing that her champagne glass remained full. As a result of their attentiveness, by the time the guests were all gone and the caterers had cleared out, Macy was feeling a little tipsy.
She probably looked it, too, since Rory insisted upon driving her home.
While she waited for him to unlock her trailer door, she leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed wistfully. "Do you realize how lucky you are?"
He glanced her way then pulled open the door and placed a hand low on her back. "How's that?" he asked as he guided her inside.
She tossed her purse onto the sofa, then dropped down beside it, exhausted but content. "To have such a big family."
Loosening his tie, he sat down beside her and draped an arm along the sofa behind her. "It has its pluses."
"They're all so nice." She tipped her head back against his arm and smiled up at the ceiling. "Even Woodrow, which really surprised me, considering he's so big and intimidating."
Hiding a smile, he brushed a knuckle across her cheek. "Trust me. They're not always that nice. Tonight they were using their party manners."
"Party manners," she repeated then tucked her legs beneath her and snuggled close. "I haven't heard that phrase since I was a little girl."
Her foot struck her purse and it fell off the sofa, its contents scattering across the floor. When she attempted to sit up, Rory placed an arm across her chest, stopping her.
"I'll get it," he said, then bent and scooped the items back inside. "What's this?" he asked as he sat back, drawing her purse to his lap.
Macy glanced over and her smile faded when she saw that he held the tin. "It's just something Sheila gave me," she said and reached to take it.
He turned a shoulder, blocking her and gave the tin a shake. "What's in it?"
"Just a bunch of old pictures of Sheila and my mother."
"Have you looked at them?"
"Briefly."
"Mind if I take a look?"
Before she could stop him, he'd lifted the lid. She slumped back against the sofa in a huff. "Like it would matter if I'd said no."
He picked up a picture and whistled through his teeth. "Wow. Is that your mother?"
She spared the photo a glance. "Yeah."
"Man, she was a looker."
"Her one positive attribute."
Rory heard the resentment in her voice and wondered what had happened between the two that had left her so bitter. "Tell me about her."
"Beautiful. Selfish. Demanding." She opened a hand and let it drop. "That pretty much sums her up."
He shook his head. "And they say opposites attract."
She looked at him askance.
"Change beautiful to handsome," he said, "and you could've been describing my father."
She eased around, her curiosity aroused. "Do you look like him?"
He smoothed a hand over his jaw and preened. "So you think I'm handsome, do you?"
"Only you would be able to pluck a compliment out of my question."
Chuckling, he rested the tin on his lap and draped an arm along the sofa behind her. "Yeah, I favor him. In fact all of my brothers do, though not as strongly as I do. But we all inherited his black hair and blue eyes."
"You and your brothers do resemble one another, yet you're all so different. In build and personality."
He snorted a laugh. "You can say that again. Woodrow's by far the biggest. Ry was always the smartest, made the best grades. And Ace … well, he's a saint as far as I'm concerned. Don't misunderstand," he was quick to tell her. "He can be as big a pain in the butt as the rest of 'em. But it was Ace who raised us. After our mother died, he stepped in and took charge. Made sure we ate our vegetables, washed behind our ears." He chuckled at a long-forgotten memory. "And gave us lickings when he thought we needed 'em."
"Why didn't your father do those things?"
"Buck?" He shook his head. "He was too busy carousing to spend any time at home."
Frowning thoughtfully, she took the tin from him and shuffled through the pictures. "I wonder if he's in any of these."
He shifted closer to peer over her shoulder. "If there was a party goin' on, you can bet Buck was there. That one," he said, and reached to pull a picture from the stack she held. He sank back, staring. "Yep. That's the old man, all right."
"Let me see." Drawing her legs beneath her, she took the picture from him. "They definitely look like they're having a good time," she said, then gl
anced over at him. "Do you recognize any of the other people?"
He leaned close. "Some." He pointed to one. "That guy there is Bill Schueler. The one behind him is Tom Carey. And I believe that one," he said, pointing to a man holding a beer mug high, "is J. W. Fielding."
He didn't bother to mention that it was his father sitting center front, or that it was Darla Jean on his father's lap. He figured Macy would recognize her own mother, and the resemblance between him and his old man was strong enough for her to pick him out of the crowd.
He stole a glance her way and saw the wistful way in which she looked at the picture. What did she wish for? he wondered. That things had worked out differently? That her mother had married the man who had fathered her? That she had grown up knowing both her mother and her father? That her mother had been a loving and giving woman, rather than the selfish and demanding one Macy had described?
But there was no sense in wishing for things that couldn't be. You couldn't change the past. Rory had tried and failed enough times to know it couldn't be done.
He brushed a lock of her hair back from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. "What are you thinking?" he asked quietly.
His voice seemed to draw her from a place far away. She heaved a sigh, then shook her head. "Nothing really. Just … thinking."
"You are who you are, Macy," he told her, sure that he knew her thoughts. "It doesn't matter what your mother was like or who your father was. None of that changes who you are."
She angled her head to look at him. "And who is that?"
Though he might have expected it, he heard no sarcasm in her tone, saw no resentment in the eyes that searched his. Only a sincere desire to know. His smile tender, he curved his fingers around the back of her neck. "I'll tell you who you are. You're Macy Keller. A damn good landscape architect. An independent woman who can be stubborn to the point of downright mule-headedness at times. You're honest. Fair. Talented. Creative. Generous." He took a breath, then released it and slid farther down on the sofa, putting himself eye level with her. "And a wildcat in bed."
She dropped her gaze to hide a smile. "That's a line of bull, if ever I heard one."
He crooked a knuckle beneath her chin and forced her face to his. "I've been known to blow a little smoke now and again," he admitted. "But what I said just now is the God's truth. You're all those things and more."
She narrowed an eye. "Even that part about being a wildcat in bed?"
Chuckling, he dragged her across his lap. "Especially that part."
Pressing a finger against the middle of his chest, she drew slow circles with her nail. "Are you planning on staying the night?"
"I could, or we can go to my place."
She snuggled close and tipped her face up to his. "I'd rather stay here, if that's okay."
He thought of the king-size bed and Jacuzzi tub at his apartment and compared it to the matchbox-size bed and telephone-booth-size shower her trailer offered.
Sliding an arm beneath her knees, he stood and lifted her high on his chest. "Fine by me."
She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Good, because I want you naked now."
Laughing, he strode the three steps it took to reach her bed. "Kinda bossy, aren't you?" he challenged as he opened his arms and let her fall.
She rolled to her knees and reached for his belt. "Is that a complaint?"
"Hell, no." He dragged his tie over his head and went to work on the buttons of his shirt. "I admire a woman who isn't afraid to speak her mind."
"Then I guess it wouldn't offend you if I were to tell you that you've got a really cute butt."
In the midst of shucking off his shirt, he stopped and looked at her closely. "Exactly how many glasses of champagne did you have?"
Her smile coy, she slipped her fingers into the waistband of his slacks and tugged him toward her. "I don't know. Every time I took a sip, your brothers were filling up my glass again."
He pushed her back to the bed and followed her down, burying his face in the valley between her breasts. "Remind me to thank them tomorrow."
Laughing, she dragged his face up to hers. "But then they'll want to know what you're thanking them for."
"They won't need to." He nipped at her lips. "One look at the smile on my face and they'll know."
* * *
The next morning, Rory sat opposite Macy at the narrow table in her trailer, sipping coffee, the pictures from the tin scattered on the tabletop between them.
"They sure seemed to party a lot," he commented as he laid aside one picture and picked up another.
"And pretty much with the same group of people," she added.
"I suppose it's possible that one of these men is your father."
"I suppose," she said, then dropped her chin onto her hand. "But how am I going to figure out which one? Nobody wants to talk to me about my mother, and the ones who are willing don't know anything."
Hearing the futility in her voice, Rory tried to think of a way to cheer her up. "You'll find him," he assured her. "It's just going to take time, is all."
She dropped her hand in frustration. "But I can't hang around here forever."
He stiffened at the thought of her leaving, something he hadn't given thought to in a while. "Why not?"
"I have to work. I've been living off the profit from the sale of my business, but I can't do that much longer. I'll need start-up money for a new business, once I've decided where I want to settle down."
He opened his hands. "Why not stay here? Tanner's Crossing could use a good landscape architect. The only one we've got spends more time in the Bahamas than he does working."
She huffed a breath. "That man would deserve to lose his business to me, after leaving you with a parking lot of wilting plants."
"Damned right he would," he said, anxious to persuade her to stay. "There's plenty of commercial property for sale around town. I'd imagine the Tanners own a piece or two of it and would be willing to cut you a fair price, considering you're a friend of the family."
Her smile faded at the reminder of what had brought her to Tanner's Crossing. "I don't know," she said hesitantly. "I left Dallas, intending to start over somewhere new. Someplace where I wouldn't bump into memories of my mother at every turn. If I relocated here, it seems I would be defeating my purpose, as I'd be right in the middle of her old stomping grounds."
"It's not like you have to decide right now," he said and started gathering up the pictures and dumping them back into the tin. "You'll have plenty of time to think it over while you're doing the work out at my place."
* * *
With the grand opening of his store out of the way and a manager in place to run it, Rory could turn his full attention to the construction of his house. He was anxious for the house to be completed so that he could say farewell to apartment living.
At least he'd say farewell to the apartment he rented in Tanner's Crossing. He planned to hold on to the other five he kept in the cities where his stores were located, as they provided him a place to stay when he was making the circuit, checking on his businesses.
But for now, his focus was on his new home.
As he walked through the kitchen, he stopped to admire the new commercial range that had been installed. He wasn't much of a cook himself, but he figured when he entertained, whatever caterer he hired would make good use of the equipment. Giving the range a proud pat he moved on, passing through the open back door to check on Macy.
He stopped and grinned when, he spotted her, stretched out on the hammock he'd hung between two trees. "Caught you sleepin' on the job," he said as he crossed to her.
She glanced up from the sketchbook she held propped up on her knees, then back down, hiding a smile. "Don't even think about docking my pay. I'm just taking advantage of the shade while I work on your design."
He gave her a nudge, indicating for her to scoot over, then stretched out on the hammock beside her. Folding an arm behind his head, he strained to look at the drawing, b
ut she braced the side of her hand on the edge of the pad, blocking his view.
"Hey," he complained. "I can't see."
Ignoring him, she continued to sketch. "And you won't until I'm done. I don't like for my customers to see my designs before they're finished."
"But I'm not a regular customer."
"What are you, then?"
He nuzzled her neck. "Your lover?" he suggested hopefully. "Surely that should earn me a few perks."
She batted a hand at his head, then resumed her sketching. "Sorry, Romeo. Just because you're good in the sack doesn't mean you get special treatment."
"Then you can forget me spending the night at your place tonight."
She lifted an unconcerned shoulder. "Just means more room in the bed for me."
Since threats hadn't worked, he gave her his most pitiful puppy-dog look. "Come on, Macy," he wheedled. "Just one little peek. What would it hurt?"
She glanced his way, then huffed a breath. "Oh, for heaven's sake," she said, and handed over the pad. "You can be such a baby."
Smug, he took the pad from her and looked over the design. "What's this?" he asked, pointing to a series of circles that ended in a square near the patio that extended off the master bedroom.
"A waterfall and koi pond. You can nix it if you want. It's just an idea I had. I thought it would be cool if you could hear the sound of running water from your bedroom."
"It would," he agreed, liking the idea. "And this?" he asked, indicating a rougher drawing in the margin.
Macy glanced over, then quickly away, having forgotten about the fanciful sketch she'd made while daydreaming. "It's nothing. Just an idea I was playing around with."
He scooted closer and bumped her shoulder. "Tell me about it."
She kept her face turned away, embarrassed beyond belief. She rarely gave in to romantic daydreams and couldn't believe that he'd seen the product of this one, especially since she'd had the two of them in mind while weaving it.
The Last Good Man in Texas Page 9