Because who else was going to love the Caracus girl?
“I don’t think you really believe you’re going to wait to get married. Come on. From what you said, he sounds like a nightmare. From what you didn’t say?” Lisa’s gaze bored into Mary’s. “I can only imagine what he’s really like.”
Mary opened her mouth to stick up for Edward, but a knock at the door made her shut her lips.
She and Lisa looked at the door in unison then back to each other like poorly choreographed dancers.
“Don’t answer.” Mary’s whisper barely carried over the feet separating them on the couch.
Lisa glanced at the door again then back at Mary. Something hardened in her eyes and Mary groaned. When Lisa had that look in her eye, she was nothing short of a tornado, taking no prisoners and leaving only victims in her wake. Mary could claim survivor only a couple times.
Thrusting herself from the couch, Lisa stomped to the door. “What threats do you have for us now?” Then she relaxed her stance. “Oh, I’m sorry. That wasn’t about you…” She turned to Mary, a grin spreading across her face. “Mary, this one’s for you.”
Mary shifted her gaze to the doorway from Lisa’s face.
Ian Dawson cradled a white pastry box and a beverage carrier, surprise apparent in the slight parting of his lips and his widened eyes. “I thought I’d bring you breakfast and coffee.” He cleared his throat, shifting in his scuffed, black cowboy boots under stacked jeans that made him look taller than should be allowed.
Swallowing, Mary jumped from the couch, pushing at her still damp hair and glancing at Lisa. Men were not Mary’s rodeo. She didn’t understand their thought processes, got nervous around them, or didn’t click altogether with them. “Um, thanks, that was nice.” And timely. Right after Mendez, coffee was exactly what they needed.
“Come in, I’ll grab some napkins.” Lisa waved him in as she headed into the kitchen area, leaving Mary and Ian to stand awkwardly side-by-side. The only thing that would’ve been worse right then, would be Edward and Mendez joining them.
If Mary was lucky, Ian wouldn’t pick up on her discomfort. But the idea was laughable. Mary was as unlucky as they came. He had to be dying to get away from there right about then.
Chapter 8
Ian
He could’ve sworn the two women could hear his knees knocking together from nerves. Sure, Mary wasn’t ready for another man in her life. She hadn’t even had a chance to figure out the guy in her life right then wasn’t the one for her. But did she have to look at Ian with those blue eyes and her soft lips and look bewildered and confused?
Each time Ian saw her, his certainty grew stronger. Nope, Edward didn’t deserve a gentle woman like Mary. She had a quiet need about her, like an internal part of her seeking acceptance. A woman like that would only get taken advantage of by the wrong guy.
By her current guy.
Ian didn’t take kindly to that fact at all.
Mary’s fresh-faced glow didn’t mask the shadows under her bright eyes. Her straight hair glinted in the… wait a minute. “Do you have straight hair or curly hair?” He held back a moan of embarrassment. Seriously? What man asks about hair?
Startled, Mary lifted a hand to finger a swath of her hair. “My hair’s naturally straight. I curl it for…” Her voice trailed off and her eyebrows drew together.
Ian couldn’t help himself. He bent down and put the pastries and coffees on the table. Leaning close to her, Ian grazed the straight lines of her dark mahogany hair with his fingers as it hung past her shoulders. “I’ve never seen straight hair this thick and pretty. Anyone who prefers it curly is a fool. You’re a natural beauty. Don’t change anything about you.” When was he going to shut up? She’d kick him out for sounding like a lovesick kid as he spouted off sonnets about her hair.
Oh, when would he stop torturing himself? He couldn’t put a finger on exactly what it was, but she pulled him closer and closer, like a dang lasso was wrapped around his waist dragging them together. He couldn’t fight it, or the rope tightened and his thoughts hurt.
A slow smile softened her surprise. “Thank you. No one has ever said anything like that to me before.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, her forehead creased. “Well, except for Lisa, but she had to, she’s my friend.”
“Best friend, and now sister, right?” Lisa returned, sliding napkins to the table and claiming one of the coffees, like she and Ian were riding pals and he’d been expected all morning.
Her easygoing attitude helped calm Ian’s nerves and he welcomed her unspoken invitation to sit as she flopped back onto the cushions of the couch and motioned toward the large easy chair across from her.
He reached forward, ignoring Mary as she rocked side to side on the balls of her feet in indecision. He tried pretending he didn’t notice her plight to either sit by Lisa or go somewhere else.
Lisa held Ian’s gaze, smiling, as Mary figured out what she was doing. “Any time now, Mary.” Lisa said, glancing up and winking at her sister who harrumphed onto the couch beside her.
“What did you bring, Ian?” Lisa rubbed her hands together and spoke out of the side of her mouth toward Mary, but not subtly, with her gaze trained on the box. “I’m holding out for scones. They are the only things worth eating in that bakery. Unless you like donuts, or muffins, or turnovers, or food, really. But the scones are my favorite.”
“Mine, too.” Ian opened the box with a flourish, rolling his wrist as he displayed the huckleberry scones with gusto. “She only had enough huckleberries for a small batch this morning. I paid extra for more drizzle.” He winked and Mary smiled. Things were starting to look up and Ian’s cheeks warmed at the glimpse of happiness in her eyes.
Seeing her with joy solidified the rope pulling him toward her. Banishing her pain would become his goal.
Divvying up the scones, the three fell into a rapture-filled silence as they bit into their treats.
Mary wiped at the side of her mouth with her pinky finger, the dainty move more charming than anything Ian had seen in a while. She rolled her eyes. “Oh my gosh, these are amazing.” She peeked at Ian through her lashes. “Thank you. I needed this.”
Lisa laughed and poked Mary’s knee. “You’re so easy to please. These are tremendous, but you should try the cranberry-orange ones. Oh. My. Word.” The tinkle of a cell phone broke into her teasing tone. Lisa set her scone and napkin down. “Just a sec, that might be Ryan.”
“I don’t know if anything could beat these.” Mary took another bite, slowly enjoying the scone. Ian couldn’t look away from the soft pink tip of her tongue darting onto her bottom lip to claim a small crumb.
Ian leaned forward, watching her until she met his gaze. He asked quietly, “Are you okay?”
Jerking her head to the side, Mary flicked at something on her pants, ignoring the penetrating sincerity of his gaze. “What? Yes, of course.” She took a deep breath and met his eyes.
Ian didn’t buy it. He’d seen that lost look before. The decision to be stronger than the situation, the timid confusion about blame. He moved to sit beside her, his knee brushing hers as he sat. He leaned in closer, tucking his chin. “Mary, I’m serious. Are you okay?”
A suspicious sheen brightened her eyes, threatening to flow over her bottom lids. Her lip quivered. “Honestly? I think so?” She offered a slight shrug that failed to convince anyone.
Her pain weakened his resolve to just check on her. He couldn’t let her be insecure, alone. She would never escape the trap of Edward in her condition.
Ian would have to spend time with her while she was in town. Wasn’t that the worst punishment ever? His nerves tingled at the thought of spending more time with her.
He wanted to take her hand in his, pull her into his arms so she could cry on a strong shoulder. He would take her pain, her fear, her worry. He hadn’t been able to do that for Elena, but he could try for Mary.
Re-entering the living room, Lisa shook her head. “Sorry. Mary, we
need to be at Rosie’s this afternoon. You’re not getting out of it that easy twice in a row, okay?” Lisa moved to stand in front of them, her gaze flicking between Mary and Ian like a rodeo audience watching a bull and rodeo clown. “What’d I miss?”
Ian rubbed his hands on his legs, breaking eye contact. “Nothing. We were just fighting over who got to eat your scone.”
Lisa snatched it from the table. “Over my dead body.” She laughed, claiming her coffee again, too.
Ian grinned, but glanced at Mary as he stood and moved back to his seat. He had to get out of there before he said or did something that would only make Mary’s confusion worse.
Before he confused himself.
Was he there to help or did he have something else in mind?
Chapter 9
Mary
Mary folded a pair of Lisa’s jeans, the soft material smooth in her hands. “Ian left pretty fast, don’t you think?” Why had he even come? He’d pushed on how she was doing and for once, the sentiment actually felt like someone cared rather than was just being nosy.
Her movements slowed as she considered the sincerity in his gaze as he’d held her hand. Her skin had tingled. She clenched and unclenched her fingers in remembrance.
“Still thinking about him, huh? I don’t blame you, he’s a handsome man. A little formal for my tastes, but he’s British, right? I think that’s how the horseshoe fits, maybe? I don’t know. I’m trying to use an English phrase and I’m not even sure it’s right.” Lisa laughed, twisting open a bottled water and moving to stand beside Mary.
Tapping a collection of pants and shirts still unfolded in the basket, Lisa sipped at the water and continued. “I think you should pick out a few of my things and wear them while you’re here. We’re pretty close to the same size.”
“I have my own clothing, Lisa.” Mary shook her head, folding a t-shirt wadded up in the corner of the basket. The fresh citrusy scent irritated her for no good reason. “I should go home, anyway.”
“Why? Why would you go home when Ian is here and he’s obviously interested? He’s so nice, Mary. You deserve nice.” Lisa crossed the fluffy carpet and settled into the corner of the couch, setting her feet on the coffee table. “I’m serious. Go after him. You need a distraction from the problems with Edward.”
Sighing, Mary closed her eyes, her hands falling to rest on the pile of clothes. If she pretended Lisa hadn’t spoken, the question might go away.
“No, I’m not going to forget I asked, either.” Lisa’s snicker flipped a switch inside Mary. “Nice try, though. I hated that trick when we were growing up. Ugh.”
Mary whirled, huffing, a shirt still in her hands. “Yeah, he’s nice, but I’m with Edward, Lisa.” How did Mary confess no one would like her, anyway? Lisa never saw it, never saw anything outside the small perfect world she lived in.
Lisa’s smile melted from her mouth and she dropped her chin as she stared at Mary. She blinked rapidly. “You’re kidding me, right?” Peering hard at Mary, she jutted her jaw forward and to the side as if trying to make sense of Mary’s language. “He trashed your house while you were gone and then chewed you out for leaving. I can’t believe you would go back to that.”
The lies Mary had fed to Lisa came back to slap her in the face. She pressed her lips together before grinding out, “You don’t know Edward. And anyway, he wants to marry me even though I’m…” She shrugged and finished lamely. “Me.” Her face flushed at the admission.
“What do you mean ‘you’? What’s wrong with you?” Lisa crossed her arms, prepared to defend Mary to anyone, even herself.
“Ian’s just being kind anyway.” Mary brushed at Lisa’s inquisition, frustrated that she couldn’t read Ian’s mind or Lisa’s. “His interest will change when he figures out who I am – or what the name Caracus means to this community.” Even the small excitement in her stomach wouldn’t be allowed to grow when he would only be repulsed by her soon enough.
“You know Edward’s not good for you, right?” Lisa cocked her head back, watching Mary as if her sanity would disappear, if she answered wrong.
Throwing her hands in the air, Mary snorted. “Of course, I know he’s wrong for me. Do you think I’m stupid? I have to tell myself I love him just so I don’t push him away when he wants to kiss me. But, I’m not like you, Lisa. Being alone isn’t something I’m strong enough for. And Edward… he’s familiar. He’s consistent, even with his tantrums. He always apologizes and he always helps me pick up.” Well, the last was a lie, but Lisa didn’t really care. She wasn’t hearing the desperation in Mary’s voice because she didn’t recognize the emotion.
Running her forefinger around the rim of the bottle, Lisa stared at the plastic shape, like she’d lost interest in the conversation.
Mary turned back to the laundry and folded another shirt and some socks, careful to manage her breathing and fight back her tears. She hated being vulnerable and allowing Lisa to see.
Mary didn’t like anyone seeing her weaknesses.
Edward was a weakness, but not for any of the right reasons.
If she let him, Ian could become one – fast.
“You’re wrong, you know.” Lisa’s quiet statement bridged the silence between them.
“Oh, yeah? About what?” Mary didn’t even turn around, she wasn’t stupid. Lisa always retorted with some quick loyal remark about how great Mary was and every guy was stupid.
“Ian knows who you are, or at least he knows who your dad was and what that means.” Her soft comment reached Mary, whose hands stilled.
She stared at the rumpled folds of material meshing together. Tears blurred the myriad of colors and she blinked the moisture away. “Oh?” Mary cleared her throat, jerking the shirt up and into a folded pleat. She turned to watch Lisa for signs of melodrama or insincerity.
“Yeah, his sister, Elena, ran with Devlyn’s cousin. The abusive bastard had the gang at his beck and call and they did anything there at the end, even loan out their ladies.” Lisa sipped her drink. Emotionless.
Mary cocked her head. “What does that even mean? His gang.”
“Didn’t you ever meet Devlyn’s gang?” Lisa scowled.
“Gang? No. Mom said he had business partners he played poker with once in a while, but that’s all.” Mary studied Lisa for any of her tells that she was lying.
And tried her best to hide the fact that she wasn’t being honest.
“What do you think Daddy-dearest did for work?” Lisa placed the bottle on the table and dropped her feet to the carpet.
“Investing of some sort.” Mary couldn’t stop lying.
She’d been nine years old when she started rejecting the truth of what her dad was to the real world. She’d gotten out of bed for a glass of water. When she’d headed back to bed, a muffled laugh from the kitchen drew her attention. She’d tiptoed down the hall and peeked through a crack in the door. Her dad and a group of eight men or so lounged around the kitchen in various seating arrangements.
Covered in dirt and shiny red blood, the men laughed, tossing gold rings and silver watches back and forth to each other.
Dad had sat closest to the door, his hand on her mother’s back. Tugging on her arm, he’d whispered into her ear when she’d leaned close enough and he’d jerked his head toward another filthy man a few feet from him.
Her mother had stiffened. After a glare from Devlyn, she’d approached the man and whispered in his ear, similar to the way Devlyn had into hers. She’d pulled on his hand and he’d followed her into the back room. The room Mary was banned from entering.
Mary had gone back to bed, feeling darker and dirtier than when she’d gotten up.
No, she didn’t know what her dad did for work, but she had a feeling it wasn’t investing.
Lisa shook her head. “You need to go talk to your mom, Mary. It’s been long enough. Cheri has suffered enough in all this. Stop torturing her.” She twisted the lid back on the bottle. Her phone chirped. She swiped the screen and then glan
ced at Mary. “Our meeting with Sara Beth and Rosie will have to wait until tomorrow afternoon or the next day. Sara Beth has a last minute client and when you deal with disabled equine lovers who finally have a chance to ride, like she does, you don’t make them wait. Especially twelve-year-old girls who dream of horses for so long.” She giggled at a thought. “Sorry, the little girl is a patient of mine and she’s extremely demanding, but you can’t help giving in to her.”
A stay of execution. Maybe if Mary didn’t mention her mother or the sisters again, they wouldn’t have to see any of them.
Doubtful, but a girl could hope, right?
Chapter 10
Ian
Nana Nell had left an hour before to go to a quilting convention with a couple of girlfriends from church. She’d left the house smelling of apple pie and Ian couldn’t find the dessert. She always did that to him. He’d turn the house upside down to find the treat and when he did there’d be a note with a list of things she would like done before he ate it. She’d been doing that since he’d moved in. The tradition had become more of an affectionate act than anything else.
Regretting Redemption Page 5