He stepped down from the trailer, careful to release the reins and hold his tone steady. There’d be hell to pay if his horse lost her cool after a simple procedure only minutes from home. “Ma’am, I’m sorry ‘bout holdin’ up your day. My horse is fretting and I was obliged to make sure she’s more comfortable. Can’t have her more scared while I drive, now can I?” He tilted his head her direction, as if asking her permission to proceed.
The woman’s eyes widened and she pressed a hand to her throat. “I’m sorry, I, uh, I don’t… I’m just…” She cleared her throat, her blue eyes darting left and right and then focusing on the dark square behind him. “Is she okay? What’s wrong?”
Ian sighed. “Her blindfold somehow fell off. I don’t know where the blasted thing is and I need it. I’ll hurry, but I can’t make any promises.” He lifted his foot and placed his well-worn cowboy boots on the aluminum ladder rung, half-turning toward the trailer entrance.
The woman shook her head, fingering the scarf at her neck. Who in their right mind wore scarves, even decorative ones at that, in the summer heat? Some women…
Before Ian could stop her, she stepped forward, unwinding the scarf from its intricate knot and holding out the swath of lavender and navy-blue material. “Here, you’re welcome to use this. I’m so sorry, about my manners. Of course, your horse is important. I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.” She offered a sorrowful smile, tremulous at the corners, but strong in the middle.
Would her lips be as firm and giving in a kiss? “I can’t take your scarf, ma’am. She’s just a dusty ole mare.”
“My name’s Mary, and I insist. I feel terrible I unloaded on you like I did. It wasn’t even… anything that important.” She lifted her eyebrows, biting the bottom side of her lip.
He chuckled, accepting the scarf and winding the soft material in his hands. “You call what you did ‘unloading’? I’d like to see your idea of a good ole fashioned cussing-out.” He winked, unable to help himself. He’d never met someone who’d intrigued him so quickly.
She held herself back, her passion, like tying all of her emotions into a neat little bow. What would happen if he reached out and softly tugged at the strings? Would she lose her cool further?
The temptation was strong. Ian opened his mouth to ask more, but a truck screeched to a stop behind her car, just past the corner of the trailer.
Another brunette rushed toward Mary, calling out. “Mary, stop. Why’d you run off?”
Mary glanced at Ian and then at the new woman. “Look, Lisa, I’m in a hurry. Edward was texting me and telling me to get back. He told me he wasn’t going to wait.” She shrugged, glancing at the ground and then lifting her chin and meeting Lisa’s gaze. “We’ll have to try to meet another time.”
The fact that another man told her he wasn’t going to wait made Ian sick. He didn’t care what the drama between Mary and Lisa was. He didn’t care about the drama between Mary and Edward either. Something about Mary drew him in, but he struggled to get himself out.
Even with all that, he couldn’t help tugging just a little on her control strings.
Ian stepped closer to Mary, pushing between the two brunettes. He lowered his voice, bending his head to put himself within inches of her face. “No self-respecting man would rush you, darlin’. You’re worth waitin’ for.” He held her gaze for a long drawn out moment, until her lashes fluttered and she glanced down again. A distinct flush covered her cheeks.
Satisfied he’d left her sufficiently flustered, Ian turned and left the two women.
Without another word, Ian returned to Peanut Butter and carefully covered her rolling eyes with the fashion scarf. He couldn’t wait to see what Nana Nell thought of the blindfold when he got home. Almost immediately, Peanut Butter calmed and stopped stomping her feet.
Backing out of the trailer, Ian avoided the silently standing women and offered the slightest wave. “Thanks again, Mary.” He nodded, climbing into the front of his truck and revving the engine.
Her big blue eyes watched him as he turned to the right. She disappeared behind his trailer.
The drive passed quickly, visions of Mary’s eyes and ceramic skin flashing in his mind.
Pulling up to the house and barn, Ian unloaded Peanut Butter and relocated her to her stall in the barn. A few extra handfuls of oats and some carrots soothed her further and Ian draped the scarf from his shoulder. The scent of strawberries and cream wafted over him. The aroma was unexpected amongst the normal fresh hay and manure scents.
Getting her off his mind would be harder now that he knew what she smelled like. She smelled like a dessert and looked like one, too. How would he return the article of clothing to Mary? He hadn’t gotten her last name and judging by her skirt, she most likely wasn’t from around there. Most women in Clearwater County wore jeans because nothing else was sensible.
Trodding across the long drive, fingers hooked in the feminine scarf, Ian opened the front door and called out. “Nana Nell? I’m back.” He hung his hat on the hooks by the front mirror and slipped his boots off. It’d be a snowy day in the Nevada desert before he’d get away with wearing shoes in the house, especially if they were worn and dirty work boots. A rule his Nana Nell had had since before he’d come to live with her fifteen years before.
Calling from the kitchen, she glanced around the corner of the doorframe. “That was fast. Everything alright with Peanut Butter?” She ducked back into the kitchen, probably stirring something on the stove or putting something together to go into the oven. The woman didn’t know when or how to stop feeding people, especially when that “people” was Ian.
“Oh yeah, that mare’s probably going to outlive me.” He twiddled the edge of the scarf and entered the kitchen area, claiming a seat at the counter. “I lost the blindfold for Peanut Butter.”
“Oh no. I bet she was scared.” Nana Nell clucked her tongue, folding eggs into a white fluffy mixture in a big red bowl on the counter. Her gray curls bobbed free from pins and she rubbed at her shoulder, leaving behind flour and a doughy-looking smudge.
“Yeah, she was. I stopped to look for it and a woman, Mary was her name, stopped and gave me her scarf to use.” Ian still couldn’t make heads or tails of her actions. He hadn’t been mad at her frustration. He understood it. But she’d given him the scarf like she was trying to buy his forgiveness.
She’d gone from angry vigilante – albeit mild and not dangerous at all – to an overly repentant princess in seconds.
“Oh, that’s pretty. You’ll need to return it. Did you get her last name and phone number? I know! You should take her out to dinner and thank her properly.” Nana Nell’s eyes twinkled and she reached both hands into the bowl and kneaded the dough.
He shook his head, softly chuckling. “No, she only said Mary. I’ll have to ask around.” And he would, but where did he start?
If only those women hadn’t shown up, Ian might have been able to get her to talk more, engage more. Spending time with Mary wouldn’t grow boring, that’s for sure. If they tired of things to talk about, he could stare at her eyes for hours.
Would he get the chance to see her again?
He completely ignored the fact that she’d mentioned some guy. If the guy wanted to keep her, he wouldn’t make stupid demands of her.
That much was obvious to Ian.
Chapter 3
Mary
What was Lisa doing? Mary grimaced as she realized the good-looking man with a twinge of a British accent was going to think she was insane – aided by the fact that she got out of her car to ask him to move on a street at a stop sign.
She was never going to forgive herself for being so impatient and worried that she could’ve endangered a horse. Edward’s anger would peak and she’d deal with it, like she always did.
His eyes. Wow, the green couldn’t be more intense. Or the tight angle of his jaw and the curve of a deep dimple in his cheek. Yeah, Mary couldn’t stop staring. She was engaged, not dead. Plus, she’d never see him
again, so what was the problem with acknowledging how good looking he was?
Edward had succeeded in controlling her actions, but not her thoughts. Not yet, anyway.
He turned toward the trailer, and in a few minutes drove off, leaving Mary alone with Lisa in a very uncomfortable setting. The trailer had left Mary and Lisa’s vehicles in plain sight and two women waited beside them. Just perfect. Lisa had brought the other women with her.
Slapping her hands together in frustration, Mary turned, pacing from Lisa a few feet and then back, glaring at the taller woman on the return trip. “What do you want? I don’t have time for this.” She thrust her fingers toward the two women. “And what do you hope to accomplish with an audience?” Her stomach roiled, knotting and quivering. Her embarrassment at trying to redirect her anger toward a stranger compounded her frustration with the entire situation and she focused her shaking energy toward Lisa.
“You have no time, huh? But you had time to get out and chat with Ian Dawson? Nice, though. He’s one of the most sought-after bachelors in the county. And he’s British… I know how you like those accents.” Lisa arched her eyebrows and crossed her arms. “Sure you’re not trying to secretly get away from your fiancé?”
Mary huffed, lowering her voice as the two new women walked closer, one of which seemed to be on some of a walker or something. “Look, I don’t know what game you’re playing at, but making insinuations about my relationship with Edward isn’t funny. What do you want?” She bit the last four words like hard taffy.
Lisa stepped closer, her eyes blazing. “Rosie, Sara Beth, and I are in deep trouble. We need your help. You’re in this, too, but hopefully Agent Mendez doesn’t find you on his own.”
Mary jerked back, confusion twisting her tone. “I spoke with Agent Mendez last week. I told him I don’t know anything.” She stamped her foot, glaring at Lisa. “Which I don’t!” The FBI agent had been excessively vague about what he wanted. All he’d asked about was the origin of her trust as well as her relationship with her mother. He hadn’t mentioned Lisa or anyone else. Mary would be hanged before she’d offer any of that information to Lisa.
“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you. What did he say? What did you say?” Lisa grabbed Mary’s bicep and squeezed, desperation hard in the narrowing of her gaze.
Yanking from Lisa’s grasp, Mary rubbed at the sore spot. “I just told you. Look, you need to stop. I’m sorry you’re in trouble, but your problems have nothing to do with me. We stopped being friends a long time ago.” She bit her tongue on the lie, but Mary didn’t want to need anyone, let alone Lisa. Admitting they were friends wasn’t on her agenda when her self-esteem was already taking a beating by being late getting back to Edward and embarrassing herself in front of Ian Dawson.
Her day had taken the sharpest turn for the worse and she didn’t want to deal with it anymore.
Any second her phone would probably explode from Edward’s missed calls and messages.
Lisa gasped. “I never stopped.” She glanced over her shoulder, then back at Mary, studying her with sorrowful blue eyes. She dropped her hand, grimacing with the truth. “Okay, fine. We may have stopped being friends, Mary Caracus, but you can’t stop being my sister.”
Mary froze. She’d danced around the possibility, the most-likely fact, but she’d never even voiced her suspicions. She couldn’t. Not when everyone whispered behind her back. Not when having Lisa as her sister meant something she didn’t believe her mom was capable of was actually… fact.
Lisa studied Mary, as if waiting for some kind of grateful reaction.
But Mary couldn’t. She just… couldn’t. She shook her head and whispered. “You can’t be my sister. You’re… I mean… Your father isn’t… my father. My mom never had an affair. She couldn’t have. Why would she?”
“My father? Did I grow up with a dad, Mary? You’re the one with a dad, not me. If your mother had cheated on Devlyn Caracus, she wouldn’t have lived to raise you.” Lisa leaned in until her cheek was beside Mary’s and her lips near her ear. “We have the same father, Mary, but the cheater was Devlyn and he got more than just your ma and mine pregnant. Even as you try to deny the truth – there are at least three more besides us.” Lisa motioned over her shoulder at the other two women who had closed the distance between them to a paltry ten feet. “Here’s two of them now.”
Three more? Besides Lisa and herself? So five Caracus daughters? How was Mary supposed to assimilate what Lisa was telling her?
How could she believe it? The truth had become foggy and gray. Mary shook her head. “I don’t… I always suspected you, Lisa, but… I can’t have the same dad as you. My dad loved me. He gave me his name. He wouldn’t steal or hurt people. Or not tell me about sisters. My dad wouldn’t lie to me.” She ended on a whisper, but lifted her chin, adamant Devlyn Caracus wasn’t things the world wanted her to believe he was.
Lisa stared down at her fingers. She turned her hands over and picked at a cuticle. Glancing up at Mary, tears bright in her brilliant blue eyes, she whispered, “You’re the lucky one. Because he did all those things to me and my mom. He was all those things. Except he never loved me. He never loved them. He only loved you.” She sniffed, offering the briefest smirk. “Imagine how that was to see you at school or to hang out with you and always know you were better than me. So much better in fact, that our dad only loved you, never hurt you?”
Her scars bared, Lisa didn’t look away from Mary who shifted uncomfortably at the bald honesty of the display.
Mary didn’t know how to respond to Lisa’s emotions.
Growing up with Devlyn Caracus as a father had left Mary confused about other people and usually alone. The comments he’d made about other people not measuring up, not being good enough to be friends with his child, had grown more intense over the years. Mary had never been able to understand the differences between herself and other children, just that, according to Dad, they were there and very distinct.
He’d even favorited Mary over Mom.
Brushing her passion for the topic aside, Lisa wiped at her eyes and held her hand out toward the new arrivals. Emotionless, she spoke to Mary without really looking at her. “This is Rosie and Sara Beth Scott. Devlyn Caracus’s daughters as well.”
Mary couldn’t focus on their faces at first. These women were non-entities and as such, fair game to assess what they might be as sisters. Mary didn’t look at Lisa. Her childhood friend. Her only friend. More her sister than the other women she’d introduced to Mary.
But because of Devlyn’s contempt for Lisa and her mother, she was the one person Mary had never been allowed to love. She’d held Lisa at arm’s length even though she was the only person who wanted to be her friend all through school.
Dust swirled around them from the dry road. Mary watched the two blonde women as Rosie held out her hand to be shaken. Mary obliged, unsure of what to do. Rosie nodded, her smile welcoming and judgment free. “Nice to meet you. I’m sorry, this is all…”
“Surprising?” Sara Beth laughed, the musical tinkling appeasing the uncertainty in the air. She bore her weight on a walker, its wheels struggling over the gravel in the road. “We couldn’t agree more. We’ve been looking for the three of you for quite a while.” She bounced on the balls of her feet, her weight obviously supported mostly by her arms.
“Three?” Mary glanced at Lisa who stared into the distance. But there were only two – Lisa and Mary. Who were the new sisters talking about?
Nodding, Rosie held up five fingers. “There are five of us – as far as we know, anyway. Sara Beth and myself, Lisa, you, and a woman named Jenny. Do you know a Jenny Ellsbeth?” All three women turned and studied Mary, like she was livestock at a fair.
Another one? Jenny? Mary drew in a long breath, her shoulders lifting and lowering. She blinked rapidly. “Let me get this straight. I have four sisters from Devlyn Caracus. You’re telling me you’ve found all of us but one?” She shook her head. “I’ve never heard o
f any of you… except for Lisa.”
Swallowing, as she studied each woman, Mary tried not to drown under the weight of revelation. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. This is a lot to take in right now. I need to get home before my fiancé loses it. I don’t think I know anyone named Jenny. And…” She glanced at Lisa who hadn’t fully turned to look at Mary again. “I don’t know how to help you. This isn’t my problem. It was nice to meet you all.” She offered a polite smile and pushed past them to her car.
Where she would normally rub the ends of her scarf or other neck accessory, Mary didn’t even have that to comfort her. She worked at her lip, not surprised at the small burst of copper flavoring on her tongue.
Sitting in her car and starting the engine, she touched her finger to her torn flesh, pulling the tip back and huffing at the red spot.
She had to stop harming herself like that when she was stressed.
Regretting Redemption Page 2