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

by Jean Brashear

  She touched his arm. “Michael.”

  He tensed beneath her hand.

  “I’m sorry.” She had to be sure he understood. “I—I don’t have any answers. I wish I did. But you were right. I was afraid. I am afraid. I don’t know how to—”

  He looked back at her, so very careful now. Too careful. “What I said was unforgivable.”

  “No. I’m a stone bitch. I know that. You’re the one who doesn’t. You keep thinking there’s gold beneath the stone. I’m pretty sure there isn’t.”

  A little of the warmth she’d missed so terribly crept over his features. “We can agree to disagree.” Then at last he smiled a little, and she took her first deep breath.

  So she made herself give him something. “I missed you.”

  His eyes smiled then. “Yeah?”

  Finally, finally he faced her fully. Lifted a hand to her cheek. “I missed you, too.”

  Because he was being so blasted careful, she took matters into her own hands. Rose to her toes and kissed him.

  His arms closed around her like iron bands.

  Faintly she thought she heard the puppy yipping. Maybe even a chuckle on the wind.

  But all she could do was slide her arms around his neck and tear her mouth away for a second to warn him. “I don’t know what this means. Don’t get any ideas.”

  “Laken.”

  “Yes?”

  “Stop talking and kiss me.”

  “I just don’t want to disappoint—oof!”

  He yanked her into him, then delivered the hottest kiss to date, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe.

  And just like his brother, as if it were some demented family tradition, he scooped her into his arms and started walking toward his truck.

  For a second, he tore his mouth away. “Gordon, okay if I leave the dogs for now?”

  “Go right ahead, son.”

  Eyes intent on hers, he strode toward his truck and eased her inside.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Buckle up,” he said and rounded the hood.

  “Are you hungry?” Michael asked her.

  “Starving.”

  Damn it. He was practically drooling. “Okay.” He exhaled. Hard. “We’ll go to Ruby’s.” Grimly he curled his fingers around the steering wheel.

  Her husky gut-deep laugh went straight to his groin. “Michael.”

  His knuckles went white. “What?”

  “Pull over.”

  He kept driving.

  “Michael…”

  He risked a look at her and nearly groaned. As she drew one index finger lazily from her throat along a trail between her breasts.

  Then still lower. “Is there a hotel?”

  He prayed for control and refused to look. “Laken, I’m trying to take care of you.”

  “You didn’t ask me what I’m hungry for.”

  “No.” And he wasn’t going to. Their problems couldn’t be solved by sex.

  She unfastened her seatbelt and panther-crawled across the console.

  “Laken, get back in your—”

  She nipped at his ear lobe.

  He barely stayed on the road.

  “I said pull over,” she purred.

  “Not until you get back in your seat and buckle up.”

  “I won’t need to buckle up if you’ll stop the truck.” Instead she crawled over the console and into his back seat.

  “There’s dog hair all over.” Despite his better judgment, he risked one glance in the rearview mirror, saw how she’d arrayed herself, and whipped his gaze back to the front. “Laken, stop it. I mean it.”

  Idly she began unbuttoning her blouse. Her tight skirt had ridden high on her thighs. “Make me.”

  He wanted to howl. To beat his head against something. “You’re here to see Sweetgrass.”

  “I’m here to see you. Preferably all of you.” She crooked a finger before inserting it into her mouth and sucking it.

  She was unpredictable enough, he didn’t dare take her to Ruby’s now. He cast his mind in search of somewhere to go with her to make her see sense.

  Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.

  So he wanted her naked. He was only a man.

  If he went back to the cabin he was using at the Gallagher ranch, anyone could wander up. Eric liked to drop in, and Samantha was often tagging along. Where had Mackey told him was their teenage makeout spot? And why was he, a grown man, resorting to it?

  Not up to now had he regretted being in Sweetgrass, but at this very moment…

  “Mmmm…” she moaned from the back.

  Not going to look. Not going to—

  His eyes had a mind of their own, and one quick flick of his gaze stopped his breath. “Hold on,” he snapped. “And don’t you dare take one more thing off.” He whipped a hard left turn and hoped to heaven he had the right road.

  He pulled into some overlook and parked behind a big tree.

  Laken idly swung one stiletto-shod foot over her crossed knees and opened another button.

  The back door of the dual cab opened, and he all but dragged her to the edge of the seat, her skirt revealing the red thong she’d donned this morning.

  Michael’s eyes went straight to the promised land, and he closed his eyes, his jaw working.

  She traced the line between his brows. “We’ll both feel better, you know.”

  His gaze was bleak when he reopened his eyes. “Sex isn’t enough, Laken. I want more. You know that.”

  She fought to hold onto her detachment. “Stop pushing me, Michael. Can’t we just call a truce, at least for this weekend?” When he only stared at her, she sat up and started to retreat.

  His big hands locked on her hips. Though the pain didn’t leave his eyes, he nodded. “If that’s what you want.”

  It’s not what I want. I want—

  But that was where her mind shut down. There were fancies she might flirt with—and there was what could actually work. She was about to shove him away and demand to be returned to her car.

  But her stupid heart just…wouldn’t. “I hurt.” She rubbed at her chest over her heart, dismayed when two tears leaked.

  “Hey…” He tried to tilt up her chin, but she refused.

  “I don’t want to keep hurting you, Michael. You’re such a good man. Too good for—”

  He forced her head to lift. “Laken, I’m no saint. I’m a man, just a man. I’m in love with you. I wish that didn’t make you so unhappy.” He looked away, and his jaw ground. “Would you rather go on back to Austin?”

  She was surprised that her first instinct was to protest, but she owed it to him to be careful. “I probably should…”

  His shoulders rounded. He began to turn away.

  She grabbed onto his shirt. “But I don’t want to. I want to be with you.”

  His gaze slid to hers, the question clear.

  “No, not just for the sex. I have fun with you.” She heaved a sigh. “Even when we have our clothes on.”

  He studied her for a long time, so long that she got nervous and pushed him back, slid to the ground to straighten her clothes. When she began to button her blouse, his hands closed over hers. He lifted them to his lips, and kissed her fingers one by one.

  He was such a damned romantic, and he refused to protect himself from her.

  Couldn’t he see how bad she was for him?

  “I’m only going to disappoint you. You should cut your losses now.”

  A wide grin exposed his one dimple.

  “What are you smiling about?” she grumbled. “You don’t have the sense God gave a flea. Are you not listening to me?”

  If anything, his grin grew wider. “I’m listening.”

  “You’re not, you foolish man. I’m warning you.”

  “Consider me warned.” He dropped her hands and cradled her face, brushing his lips softly over hers. “Then let’s have some fun, sweetheart.” His lips cruised over her face, and she melted a little with each kiss. Every on
e felt like a blessing, a small benediction, a soothing. She wrapped her fingers around his strong wrists and leaned into him.

  He wrapped his arms around her, rested his cheek on her hair for a long moment that felt like coming home.

  She closed her own arms around him and snuggled in. She could have sex anytime, anywhere. With pretty much anyone she wanted.

  But Michael was a world-class snuggler, and she couldn’t get enough of the feeling of being cherished. “Could we just stay like this forever?” she asked softly.

  “However long you want.” He touched his lips to her forehead.

  They clung for a precious moment, then his mouth cruised over her cheekbones, her jaw. She lifted her face to his and captured his lips. The kiss was so sweet, her eyes burned.

  Why did it have to be this truly good man who opened her heart wide? Why couldn’t he understand that she would always hurt him? Always disappoint him because she was missing what he really needed? “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I wish I could be what you want.”

  “Shh…” He rocked her side to side, cradling the back of her head with one big hand, his strong legs spread, his powerful arms banding her and making her feel delicate and…treasured. “Stop worrying and just be with me. It’s enough.”

  But it wasn’t, she knew that. If she really cared about him, she’d leave now and stay away for good. Protect him as he wouldn’t protect himself.

  As she tensed to draw away, however, he only held her more tightly. Drew her to her toes and captured her mouth in a tender kiss that quickly turned greedy. “Turn off your brain, love. Just…feel.”

  That was part of the problem. She was feeling too much.

  But she kissed him back anyway.

  They necked like teenagers, and she was soon revved and ready. “Michael, now. Please, now.”

  She could feel the tension in his body, knew desire was riding him hard, too—but he drew back slowly, easing them down from the fever pitch. Soothing her with soft caresses and light kisses. “Damn it, Michael. Don’t you soothe me.”

  He rested his forehead against hers, his breathing uneven. “You could help, you know. I could use some soothing myself.”

  She shoved at his shoulders. “Oh, go soak your head, you big jerk. We could both be feeling a lot better right now if you’d just do as I ask.”

  A quick flash of dimple. “Maybe I don’t want the easy way out.”

  She knew she was pouting, but blast him, anyway. “What are you waiting for?”

  “You’ll never marry me if I put out at the drop of a hat.”

  “What? Michael, you know I can’t—”

  “Won’t, not can’t. Be honest with yourself, at least.” Hurt flashed, and temper rose. What did it say about her that she could make this easygoing man so angry?

  But yet again, he mastered his emotions. “Let’s start over.” He straightened. “Laken, I’m glad you came. Let me take you to dinner and show you around.” He held out an elbow like some English dandy, then twirled an imaginary mustache and faked a leer.

  She didn’t want to start over. She wanted him to understand that his plans could never come to fruition. “Michael, it’s not that—”

  He spoke over her. “I understand that you’re still running scared, but I’m only asking to take you to dinner. Scarlett’s mushroom pork chops are not to be missed.”

  “Michael…”

  “Take a breath, Laken.” He simply stared her down and waited.

  “Do you know how infuriating it is that you won’t fight with me?” A slow smile curved his lips and popped his dimple. If he’d just let her take him to bed…but the maddening man moved like a turtle until it suited him. “Oh, all right. I’ll eat at the blasted diner, but afterward…”

  He pressed a quick kiss on her sulky mouth, then led her back to his truck.

  Gordon stood on his porch and stared out over the hills that had formed him. His fingers tightened over what had been delivered that day, gripping it as though he could recapture that fleeting moment years before when he’d thought his life was complete.

  He’d held the world in his hands, or so he’d believed.

  Sophia’s eyes had glistened with love, her tears raining gently over high cheekbones, the brown eyes she’d passed on to their child looking at him with wonder and all the love he’d thought he would ever need.

  “Gordon, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

  He’d all but shuffled his feet in the boots he’d tried hard to knock the dirt from before coming inside. It had been impulse, a pathetic attempt to make up to her for all she’d lost when she’d thrown her lot in with him. She’d cried over that first haircut, and some instinct had had him retrieving a lock of Ian’s hair. His mother had kept one of his own, he remembered, and she would take out the album she’d pasted it in and get all soft-eyed and sentimental. As a boy, he’d found it only embarrassing, but now that he’d made a child of his own and watched that child’s mother weep over the passing of babyhood, he thought he understood a little better.

  He couldn’t buy Sophia all the pretty things she deserved, certainly nothing like all she’d given up for the very ordinary life he’d offered her here—but maybe this token would compensate a little bit for what she’d sacrificed.

  He’d spend his life making her glad she’d chosen him, he vowed yet again.

  “Up, Daddy,” said the toddler at their feet, his arms lifted high.

  Gordon had bent and lifted the child in his arms.

  “Horse,” said Ian, the first word he’d spoken after Mama and Daddy.

  “He’s your boy, for sure.” Sophia had laughed.

  But even then, years before she’d fled, darkness and longing had crept into her eyes, shadowed her beloved features, he could see now, and he understood that they’d never had a chance, that he’d taken an orchid from a hothouse and expected it to flourish in the desert.

  All the love he’d showered on her could never have been enough.

  He’d been stunned to receive the locket, along with Sophia’s request that he decide if Scarlett would want it.

  Of course she would. His daughter-in-law cherished everything about Ian.

  But what would Ian do? How much would it hurt him to see this reminder of the mother who’d walked away? How could Gordon make him understand that Sophia had loved him desperately even as her soul withered under the harsh Texas sun?

  She had tried. For six long years she’d done her best to fit in.

  He’d read of a diagnosis once: failure to thrive. The term applied to Sophia as well. She’d tried, and he’d tried…but he hadn’t tried hard enough. He’d let his land take precedence, his history, his roots. All of those he’d placed before the welfare of the woman who’d entrusted her heart to him, who’d given up everything familiar when he’d been miserable in her world.

  And when she’d left him, he had placed all the blame on her. If she’d loved him enough, Ian enough, she would have stayed. She would have fit in.

  He’d stood on this ground and he’d staked his claim. You can go, but Ian will stay.

  What had it cost her to leave? She’d looked broken that day, and he’d hardened his heart to keep from breaking down, too. Yes, he’d needed to be strong for Ian, but he could have found a compromise, surely. This land had formed Ian just as it had formed him, but when push came to shove, Ian had offered to leave for Scarlett’s sake. And truly meant it, however torn he’d been at the thought of letting his father down.

  Gordon had said the words years ago in San Francisco, but he hadn’t truly meant them.

  And she’d known. She’d made sacrifices Gordon could not imagine—once in coming here to live and trying her damnedest to become a part of this place.

  Then she’d torn out her heart again by leaving Ian behind when she had to go. He’d told her not to come back, had played on her mother’s instinct to protect. If you leave, don’t be playing with this child’s heart. Go, but don’t return. Or stay and stop pining.

/>   What an ass he’d been, so sure of what was right for Ian, of where his son belonged. Yet his boy had filled up shelves with books about the travel he’d desperately wanted to do and never would out of loyalty to his dad, especially after Gordon’s stroke.

  Gordon had done his son harm too many times, first by sending his mother away, then by trapping him here. He didn’t want to harm him again with this locket.

  He opened his fingers, one by one. Studied the small golden oval in the center of his palm, the delicate chain swirled protectively around it.

  He closed his fingers again. Stared out at the hills once more and thought of the note she’d included with the locket.

  I would sell my soul to be able to hold Ian’s child. To hold Ian again.

  But I gave up all right to that blessing long ago.

  If there’s any way, Gordon, you would consider whispering in that baby’s ear that somewhere far away is a grandmother who loves her or him, I would be so grateful. I don’t deserve that link, I know, but I will live in hope that maybe one day before I’m gone, Ian’s children will find it in their hearts to come looking for me.

  Gordon leaned against the post and stared out at the land he’d chosen over this woman who was aching so. Who wasn’t asking him to take responsibility for driving her away but instead was caught up in self-loathing she had only partial right to feel.

  He had more than earned the bulk of that burden.

  Michael says you’ve forgiven me, and I can’t begin to tell you what that means. I’m not letting myself off the hook, though. I did what no mother ever should, no matter what, and Ian is right to hate me. It’s a sign of how beautifully you raised him, that he’s giving his brother a chance to be a part of his life.

  He owed Sophia a long overdue apology.

  Time to make it.

  “Hello.”

  “Sophia, it’s Gordon.”

  She sat down abruptly. She knew him from the first syllable, would always recognize that voice from any other on earth. She tried to speak but couldn’t.

  “Sophia? Are you there?”

  “I—” she covered her mouth, then tried again. “Yes, I’m here. I—are you—Gordon, why—”

  “Why am I calling?” He chuckled. “I’m not exactly sure.”