Texas Hope: Sweetgrass Springs Stories (Texas Heroes Book 16)

by Jean Brashear

“Nothing’s wrong.” Ruby took his hand. “Just got someone for you to meet.”

  “Who?” He nodded his head toward the truck out front. “Whose truck is that?”

  Ruby cast Scarlett an odd glance, then tugged at his hand. “Come on, you two.”

  Just then, a tall man arose from his seat, his gaze intense.

  Ian hesitated. The moment seemed freighted with…something.

  Scarlett cast him a questioning glance, then one at her grandmother. She stepped forward and extended her hand, but immediately Ian put himself in front of her and any threat this stranger might present. “I’m Ian McLaren.”

  The stranger, busy examining him, not Scarlett, was slow to respond. At last his hand rose. “Michael Cavanaugh.”

  They shook hands, but something in Ian was still uneasy. He could feel emotion in the air, but he didn’t understand it.

  Scarlett started to move around from behind him, but he put his arm in front of her. “This is my wife Scarlett. You visiting here?” What’s your business? he wanted to demand.

  “Ian—” Scarlett danced past him and met the stranger as she did everyone else, with a smile and a welcome. “Mr. Cavanaugh, are you hungry? My Nana’s taken good care of you, I’m sure.”

  The man, about his own height, tore his gaze from Ian and looked at her for the first time, taking in her beauty, no doubt. Then he glanced at her swollen belly, and his eyes lit.

  Ian stepped again to put himself in between them, some primitive instinct coming to the fore. The stranger radiated no menace—still the hairs rose on the back of his neck, and he couldn’t figure why.

  Then the man smiled, and one dimple popped out as he smiled at Ian’s wife.

  Ian went still.

  Ruby’s hand clasped his arm. “Ian, Michael isn’t here to eat. He’s here for you. Now you hear him out, all right?”

  Ian grabbed Scarlett and tucked her into his side, sensing a threat he didn’t understand. “Hear what? What’s going on?”

  Michael Cavanaugh faced his squarely with brown eyes that…

  Wait.

  No.

  The man was talking, but Ian was already shaking his head.

  “—brother. My mother’s name is Sophia, and I know what she did to you. She was wrong, and I hope—”

  The man looked at him from his mother’s eyes. Ian’s eyes. His… “No.”

  “You’re Ian’s brother?” Scarlett smiled hugely. “Ian, isn’t that great?”

  But she looked worried, and her tone was false. She knew how he felt about the woman who had abandoned him. Who’d broken his dad’s heart, who’d torn their lives to shreds.

  He locked gazes with the stranger who had just thrown a grenade into Ian’s life and sent shrapnel from the past flying at him. “You need to go. Now.”

  Scarlett gripped his hand, and he held on, shaking his head. “My dad—” His father would be devastated. “I have no mother.” She’d clearly moved on, and Gordon never had, not really.

  “Ian!” But Scarlett said no more, instead wrapped her arms around his middle.

  He wanted to shove her away, shove everyone away, to race away from the memories of sobbing as his mother drove off. “I have no mother,” he repeated.

  The man still stood there. “She was wrong. And I didn’t know about you until recently, I swear it. She never said a word. She’s a good woman, or I thought she was, but what she did to you…I can’t forgive her either.” What might be sincere anguish lingered in the man’s eyes.

  “You don’t know jack. And I don’t want to hear about her. For all I knew she died years ago—she’s dead to me, anyway. She never even cared enough to—”

  The man stepped forward, and Ian squared off against him, pushing Scarlett behind him again. “You need to go,” he repeated.

  Michael whatever-the-hell-his-name-was held up a palm. “I’m sorry, truly. I don’t mean to cause you harm. I…” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t know the right way to do this.” He locked his gaze on Ian’s. “I can’t excuse what she did. I don’t understand it myself. But she doesn’t have to be part of this. I’d like a chance to stand for myself. I want to know you, and I think you’d like me if you’d give me a chance.”

  “I don’t want to know you.”

  “Ian! This isn’t like you.”

  He whipped a hard glance at Scarlett. “Stay out of this.”

  She visibly recoiled. Her brows slammed together.

  “Ian McLaren, this is not you,” Ruby demanded. “None of this was his fault.”

  “Everybody cut Ian a break,” said the man who’d caused the whole problem. “This has to be a hell of a shock. I don’t blame you,” he said to Ian. “I will go, but when you’ve had some time to think, I hope you’ll give me a chance to show you who I am. I’m not going to defend what our mother did—it seems inexcusable, but I haven’t let her explain to me either. I was too damn mad that she’d known I had a brother and never told me. I’ve been alone all my life, and I would have given most anything to know about you. To have a brother. Now it’s just me—well, her and me because I can’t desert her, even if she screwed up—but if you’d give me an hour. Thirty minutes.”

  Ian couldn’t move.

  “Do you have a card?” Scarlett asked.

  He looked pained. “Afraid not. I’m a traveling veterinarian, and I’m in Austin right now, though my job there has finished. But there’s a woman I’m not ready to leave behind—” He shook his head. “She doesn’t think she needs me or anyone, really, but she’s wrong. So I guess I’ll go back there for now, but here’s my cell number.” He grabbed a paper napkin and scribbled on it, handing it toward Ian.

  Ian didn’t move, but Scarlett took it.

  Regret shadowed the man’s eyes, and his shoulders sagged. He met Ian’s gaze once more. “Everything I hear tells me you’re a good man. A fair one. I’m a good man, too.” He paused. “I’m not the one who left you, and I’d like to believe you’d give me a chance.”

  Ian couldn’t muster his voice. All he could do was stare at a man who resembled him far too much.

  “He is a good man,” Scarlett said, squeezing Ian’s hand. “And thank you for giving us a little time to absorb this. You travel safe, you hear?”

  “Thank you.” He glanced at Ruby. “You did warn me. Thank you for your hospitality, ma’am.”

  He cast one more look at Ian. “You’re not glad to meet me, I know. But I’m damn glad to know you exist.” With a nod, he turned on his heel and left.

  They watched him drive off in silence, then Scarlett turned. “Ian…”

  He pulled his hand from hers. “No. I can’t talk about it.” He exhaled forcefully. “I love you, but…don’t, Scarlett. Please.”

  She pressed her lips together, then slipped her arms around him and hugged hard.

  Their baby kicked between them, and Ian curled his body over both of them, this family he loved with every breath in him. “What the hell do I tell Dad?” he whispered.

  Ruby’s hand stroked his back. “Take your time, Ian. If it helps any, I was with him for most of an hour, and he really seems to be a good person. My gut says he means you no harm. He’s as innocent as you are in this. And he’s lonely.”

  Ian’s jaw tightened, and he stepped back. “Don’t, Ruby. No more. Just—”

  Scarlett kissed his cheek. “Call me if you need me. Want me to go with you?”

  He shook his head. “Thank you, but…not right now.”

  “You’ll still come for supper and bring Gordon?”

  Oh, man. What was he going to tell his father? “I don’t know…”

  “You do what you need to,” she said. “Just remember I love you. We all love you.”

  He unbent a little. “And I count on that.” Accepting love and trusting his heart again hadn’t been easy. His mother’s abandonment had broken something inside him, and he’d lived his life with half a heart.

  Until Scarlett. “I’ll be okay,” he reassured h
er, wanting to take the worry from her eyes.

  “I won’t let you be any other way.” She smiled.

  God, he loved his fierce little warrior. “Take care of my girls, Ruby. Henry, don’t you let her overdo.”

  “I’ve got my eye on her,” said the younger man who’d just entered the dining room.

  With one last, lingering look at the woman who’d made his heart whole again, Ian left.

  He got in his truck and drove off.

  But as soon as he was out of sight, he pulled over and cut the engine.

  He had a brother.

  Seriously?

  The resemblance was too strong for him to deny.

  But what to do about this Michael?

  He had no earthly idea.

  Chapter Two

  “Look, I know that you’re digging the cozy here in Sweetgrass, but that’s no excuse for letting your brain go to mush. You cannot seriously believe that Cap is better than Wolverine. Wolverine would so kick Captain America’s white-bread butt.” Vinny Mattuci walked around the counter of the cantina pastry chef Spike Allman operated for Jackson Gallagher’s Enigma Games geeks while she waited for Ruby’s Dream to open.

  “Shows what you know,” she snorted, staring down the skinny geek standing before her in his thick black Buddy Holly glasses. “Being on the Left Coast has clearly waterlogged your brain. Aren’t you set to go back, anyway?” Enigma was headquartered in Seattle—or had been, but Jackson was intent on luring his employees here to Sweetgrass.

  Heaven help Sweetgrass, the little town that had felt like being consigned to purgatory when she’d arrived. But when Maddie Gallagher had asked her to come help out her cousin Scarlett—well, cousin-in-law—Spike had already had enough of New York culinary egos and had decided a change was in order. “Anyway, get back on your side of the counter. You’ll get me cited by the health department.”

  It was Vinny’s turn to snort. “There is no health department. We’re in Brigadoon, remember? This place doesn’t really exist.”

  “No kidding.” She screwed up her face. “What are we doing here, anyway?”

  Vinny chuckled. “We can be bought. Our secret sin.” His eyebrows waggled, and for a skinny geek, he was surprisingly attractive, she had to admit. Probably weighed one-fifty soaking wet, only about five foot ten, and his black hair always looked as though somebody had run an eggbeater through it.

  “So back to Cap. This is disturbing news, Pastry Goddess. I think Sweetgrass is melting your brain. All the warm and fuzzy around here is doing a number on your thought processes. Too much heartfelt and homespun. We need a trip to Austin to remind us what the real world is like.”

  She’d had enough of the real world, thank you. She was a terrible fit in this down-home, friendly place, and she would move on soon, as she always did. Have mixer, will travel was her motto.

  But not yet. She hadn’t quite figured out Ruby’s cream cake recipe, and Ruby was guarding it like pirate gold. “Cap rocks the skin suit and the shield,” she insisted, more to get his goat than out of conviction.

  “Spandex and that stupid Mercury-mutation helmet. Please.” He vaulted himself onto the counter, and the muscles in his arms flexed.

  “Get off my workspace,” she screeched.

  He didn’t budge. “Will you first admit that Wolverine is the man?”

  “First?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, then let me taste whatever’s in the oven that’s turning my brain to goo.”

  “That wouldn’t take much.” She rolled her eyes. “I can call Jackson, you know. He’d totally send you back to Seattle.”

  Vinny smiled, and she ignored the flutter. “Jackson needs my mad coding skills.”

  “From what I hear, Jackson can write better code than any of you, and Ben is nearly as good.”

  “The kid does take after his dad, all right, but he’s still in high school. And Jackson’s gone all family man now.” He shook his head. “Nobody back there believes me. Jackson used to hang with us when he wasn’t plotting world domination, just worked right down in the pit with everyone. And best anyone could tell, the man worked 24/7.” He heaved a sigh. “Then he went and fell in love.”

  Spike wouldn’t admit it if hot needles were shoved under her nails, but she secretly thought Jackson and Veronica’s love story was the best ever. Imagine waiting for seventeen years to marry the love of your life.

  “Hah!” Vinny snapped his fingers and pointed. “This place is getting to you, too. You’re a closet romantic.”

  “What? No way. Are you crazy?” She shoved at his shoulder, but the man was all muscle. Though she was strong for five foot two, she couldn’t budge him. “Get out of my workspace,” she growled, “Or you will not get even a crumb of what I’m baking. Besides—Wolverine needs a wax job.” She shuddered for effect. “Can’t stand a hairy back.” She pushed again, and Vinny hopped off the counter in one lithe move.

  “Whatever, Blue Girl,” he said, referring to the color of her hair this week. “You would totally love my back hair if I ever got over my maidenly shyness to show it to you.” He smirked in her direction, then headed back to his workspace. He paused at the door. “Or we could compare tattoos. You got any cool piercings I can’t see?”

  “Beat it.” Spike shook her head and got out the disinfectant to clean her counter. She glanced around the space that she kept in perfect order. She might live out of her car most of the time, but she was ruthless about sanitation and order with her tools and her workspace.

  She had put a couple of her own touches in the small dining area and had her grandmother’s little plaque mounted on the wall as a reminder. Never Give Up.

  Jackson had told her to make over the space however she wanted. He was grateful that she’d taken some of the burden off Scarlett so Scarlett didn’t have full responsibility for yet one more eating establishment in Sweetgrass. Spike had only used that license to get the best equipment, all of which would stay after her departure.

  But not yet. She would have to go. She would always leave, even if Sweetgrass tempted her to grow moss and stay in a way she’d never experienced before. The residents still cast her odd glances because of her revolving hair color, her multiple piercings and her Doc Martens, but they’d still been kind to her. The Ruby and Scarlett Seal of Approval mattered, she’d learned. There was nothing the residents of Sweetgrass wouldn’t do for the woman who’d kept this town alive, even if privately they regarded Spike as an intriguing zoo creature at best.

  She made them nervous, but despite that, the quilters had extended an invitation, and somebody was always wanting to take her to church. Ben used any excuse to hang around and quiz her about her travels, and if she missed New York too much, Scarlett had lived there for several years. And Jackson had traveled the world.

  Deputy Tank Patton still observed her as though she’d whip out a stiletto any minute, but he had a fondness for her flaky apple tarts. And sweet Henry couldn’t learn enough about cooking, it seemed, always eager to try a new recipe.

  She could feel Sweetgrass sending tentacles of attachment to twine around her ankles, but she was immune.

  Still, for all that she was an exotic species to these people—

  They were equally exotic and fascinating to her.

  So she’d stay for a bit. Maybe until Scarlett had her baby and was back on her feet. By summer’s end, for sure.

  That left a little while longer for her to get sick of this place.

  She would, of course. She always did.

  She couldn’t afford not to. Not with her past always a threat.

  That went well. Michael shook his head as he drove out of town. He’d hoped to stay, to learn more about his brother.

  I don’t want to know you.

  Michael’s jaw clenched. What had he expected? That the man would fall into a back-slapping hug and extend a warm welcome? After what he’d been through?

  Ian, this is not you.

  He is a good man. The women in his
brother’s life had been shocked at Ian’s reaction, but he shouldn’t have been, it was just that—

  Damn it, he was a good man, too. He didn’t deserve the cold shoulder. How come Ian couldn’t just chill out and give him a chance?

  Would you, in his shoes? He tried to imagine. Tried to double or triple his shock at learning of a brother. He’d been ecstatic—but he had never been left. He hadn’t been a small boy, no doubt wondering what he’d done wrong. Michael tried to remember being five. So young. So innocent. How could a little kid ever understand? Hell, he was an adult and he didn’t understand what his mother had been thinking. In his book, you didn’t abandon a child, not ever. You stuck, even if you were scared half to death. You didn’t just…

  Drive away. He took his foot off the gas, dumbstruck.

  You didn’t run. Or give up.

  Exactly what he’d done. He pulled over and put the truck in Park. Stared out the windshield. What would happen if he went back? Hung around and let Ian get to know him? Proved he was who he said he was?

  The man who’d gone cold and frozen would hate that. But would he thaw?

  My dad, Ian had begun, and Michael thought he understood. Besides the inevitable shock of Michael’s existence, Ian would have his father’s feelings to consider—the man Michael’s mother had said she’d loved, then abandoned. Gordon McLaren had never remarried, Michael’s investigator had said. Did that mean he still…what did that mean? That he still carried a torch for Michael’s mom? Or that she’d soured him on women for all time?

  Now you hear him out, all right? Ian’s grandmother-in-law had some sympathies for Michael. Even Scarlett had looked at him with compassion.

  Man. He let his head fall back on the headrest. What a tangle. What to do next?

  He glanced in the rear view mirror. He could see the tip of the courthouse on the square. What would happen if he turned around? Put himself in Ian’s path again?

  You think the results would be any different?

  Maybe not. But maybe Ian just needed time. Time and familiarity.

  A truck pulled up behind him, big and black and muscular. A man emerged, tall and dark-haired. In the passenger seat was a young boy, a towheaded blond.