by Pam Crooks
“Let’s see what you’ve got,” he said.
She didn’t move. “Has your mother discussed any of this with you or your brothers? Finances, I mean.”
“No. And ever since we were kids, we knew never to ask for specifics. My folks have always been private when it comes to their money.”
“It’s their generation. My mother was the same way, my grandmother even worse.”
“We’re grown men. Sometimes, she forgets that.”
“I suppose.” She changed from a sitting to a lay-on-her-stomach position. “Then it’s up to me to do it for her. You deserve to know this stuff.”
She lifted the lid of her laptop and pulled up files while Beau settled in closer beside her. With their shoulders pressed together—their heads together, too—she explained a slew of documents and spreadsheets Erin had forwarded to her along with Ava’s own numbers, tallied carefully every day in the foreman’s mobile trailer. Cost comparisons. Income-expense statements. Income projections. Percentages, both short-term and long-term, until even her brain protested from information overload.
After she answered the last of Beau’s questions, assuring her he comprehended at least the majority of her explanations, the sun had lowered on the horizon, painting the clouds with muted shades of orange and gold. She closed the laptop with a firm click.
“Your mother is doing this for you, and for Brock and Jace, too,” Ava said, pushing her point that went beyond complicated math. “She’s preserving your heritage. Don’t you think Rupert would’ve loved that? Turning the ghost town, his very own mining community, into a family-oriented vacation resort that can be enjoyed by thousands of people for years?”
Beau rubbed his jaw. “Not going to argue with that, Ava.”
“Or would you rather it be destroyed, hauled away in dump trucks, and thrown into a landfill somewhere? All that Paxton history gone.”
“Okay, okay, okay.” He rolled onto his back, using his long, bulging arms to scoop her on top of him as if she were made of straw instead of being a full-grown woman. Her body conformed to his with ease, belly against belly, thighs against thighs. A delicious belt-buckle-in-her-abdomen kind of closeness.
She smiled down at him. “Have I convinced you, then?”
“Must admit, the potential for success is better than I expected.”
“Knowledge is power,” she said with a somber nod.
His thumb slid over her lower lip, and she resisted the urge to take the tanned, lean digit into her mouth and roll her tongue around it. She’d rather kiss him the old-fashioned way instead.
“Sorry if I’ve been a real jerk this whole time,” he murmured.
“You weren’t.” She leaned closer, lower, drawn to him like the bugs who flailed around her porch light every night. “Just an uninformed one.”
His hands cupped her face, bringing her mouth a wispy breath away from his. “Forgive me?”
“S’ppose.” Anticipating the feel of his mouth, she lowered her lashes.
“Show me.”
Her lips connected with his with an explosive, heated fervor that sent her hands tunneling into his hair to keep him right where she wanted him, kissing her hard, deep, fiercely. His hands traveled down her back and onto her derriere, splaying over her shorts-covered flesh with much-too-bold familiarity, declaring his blatant desire, his need, and just as she began to entertain the idea of letting him get her stark naked, right here in the warm, sultry, anyone-could-see-them Texas air, Gunner let out a string of ferocious barks.
She yelped; her body cleared Beau’s with enough space to let air through.
Beau swore.
Their heads both swiveled toward the sound of tires crunching over dirt and the headlights beaming toward them, and though Beau kept his arm around her, even as he rose up on his elbow, she couldn’t scramble off him fast enough.
He kept his gaze planted on the vehicle, an older model pickup. After it braked to a stop next to his Ford, his expression turned dark and suspicious.
“Who is it?” she asked, very glad she wasn’t naked, after all.
“Looks like Will Templeton’s old beater.”
They both stood. The truck door opened, and a crumpled beer can tumbled out. It wasn’t a young man who emerged next but an older one, maybe in his fifties, sparrow-legged, beer-bellied, and sporting caterpillar eyebrows that needed some love at a barbershop.
Gunner loped toward him, barking his heart out. Holding onto the door, the man glowered.
“Call off your mutt, Beau,” he said in a tone that sounded like an animal’s snarl.
She winced. Gunner was a purebred Labrador Retriever whose bloodline Beau was proud of, but he let the insult slide. A sharp whistle silenced the dog; Beau called him back and Gunner obeyed, dropping on his belly at their feet but keeping close watch on the man.
She knelt on one knee and held onto Gunner’s collar, just in case. She had a pretty good idea their visitor was Bud Templeton and this conversation wouldn’t be a friendly one.
“Say what you came to say, Bud,” Beau said in a tone edged with steel. “But let me remind you you’re on Paxton land out here. You’re uninvited, and that makes you trespassing.”
Bud kept the pickup’s door open; however, he moved away and spread both feet, his arms down at his sides. His hands were curled into fists.
“Stay away from my boy.”
Beau nodded. “Figured that’s why you’re here. He’s a good kid. Needs some direction, that’s all,” he said calmly. “Giving him a job did him a world of good.”
“If he gets a job, and where, is for me to decide, not you.”
“He’s old enough to take on some responsibility. Make his own decisions.”
“You tellin’ me how to raise my boy?” Bud thundered.
“Just telling you my opinion.”
“And I sure as hell didn’t ask for it.”
“Donnie had too much time on his hands. Miss Howell’s crew took him in. Taught him some skills. He learns fast, Bud. Enjoys the work. Might give him some ideas on what to do with the rest of his life, too.”
Bud’s lip curled. “You’re just like your old man, y’know that?”
Though Beau’s eye narrowed, he shrugged. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t intended as one.”
“You’d rather Donnie drop out of school? Get into trouble with the law? Because that’s the road he’s been heading down.”
Thank goodness he refrained from going into details about Donnie stealing her purse or breaking her window. Maybe Bud knew and maybe he didn’t, but pointing the crimes out to him now, in the mood he was in, would only make the situation worse.
“Just cuz you’re a Paxton don’t mean you’re as high-and-mighty as you think you are.”
“Donnie wants to buy his own truck. Hope you’ll let him come back and work for Miss Howell again so he can earn enough money. Her crew keeps a close eye on him. He’s safe out here.”
“You sayin’ he’s not safe at home with me?”
“I’m saying you’re on the road too much. I understand you have to earn a living. Downside to that is you don’t know what he’s doing or where he’s at when you’re gone. Same with Will. Seems to me, letting her crew take him in until school starts up is a good idea all around.”
“You think I want to hear any of your ideas?” Beau kept his mouth shut, but a tiny muscle leapt in his jaw.
“Because of your old man, my wife left me,” Bud railed.
Beau’s expression hardened. “That’s not true, and you know it.”
“She couldn’t have done it without the money he gave her,” Bud yelled. “I ain’t never gonna forget that. And now you’re trying to take my boy away, too, making him cut off his hair so he’d look like the rest of you.”
Ava gasped. “He wanted to cut his hair.”
Bud’s glance flitted over her with no shortage of disdain. “I’m done talkin’ to both of you.” He glared at Beau. “Just
don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He spun on his heel and leapt into the truck. After turning the ignition and grinding the gears, he gunned the accelerator, drove a wide turn, and sped away down the road.
Exhaling a shaky breath, she released Gunner and stood. “Well, the feud is alive and well, I’d say.”
Beau set his hands on his hips. “Don’t reckon he’ll ever change.”
“What a shame to be so angry. So unhappy.” She peered up at him. “What do you think he’ll do?”
“Hard to say.”
“Maybe he’s just blowing off steam.”
“I don’t think so.” Grimly, Beau bent and picked up her blanket, tucking it under his arm. “C’mon, honey. Let’s pack up. I’m taking you home.”
Chapter Fourteen
Ava pulled up in front of her cabin, got out, and locked the car up for the night. Beau drove in behind her while she unloaded her things onto the couch. She went back out again to tell him good night.
She didn’t expect him on the porch, leaning against the wooden post, with no inclination to leave anytime soon.
Not that she wanted him to. Bad idea or not.
She cocked her head with a small smile. “Would you like to come in?”
“Sure.” But he indicated the glider. “Or we can sit out here.”
“Gets buggy this time of night.” She glanced away. “And you’re not wearing a shirt. You’d just get eaten up by the flying critters y’all have out here.”
Critters?
Y’all?
Where had those little drawled-just-right words come from? Both made her sound more Texas than she was—or had a right to be.
She shifted, one foot to the other.
Beau didn’t seem to notice the slip, however, and strode in. Gunner came in, too, and headed for his home away from home these last few weeks, the corduroy bed she kept in the corner. He curled up and heaved a sleepy sigh. She closed the door, switched on lights, and put her little cooler on the table.
“I’ve got more pastrami in the fridge if you want another sandwich,” she said.
“Trying to feed me again?” He turned one of her kitchen chairs, straddled it, and gifted her with one of his toe-curling, make-her-swoon smiles that she would never, ever forget.
“Cowboys eat a lot, I’ve learned.” She pulled out her bag of veggies, all that was left of her lunch. “That half sandwich you ate wouldn’t satisfy a sparrow. How about I make you some scrambled eggs and toast?”
“Ava. No thanks.”
“Eat these carrots and celery sticks, at least. They’re good for you. You want a beer? Water?”
He declined both, but took the vegetables and crunched away. His gray-eyed gaze followed her about the kitchen as she tossed out baggies and bottles then gave the inside of the cooler a quick swipe with a dishcloth.
“Sorry you had to witness that conversation with Bud,” Beau said. “It wasn’t pretty.”
He finished the veggies in no time. She took the little bag and dropped it into her trash with the others.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said, going for her laptop next. She plugged the device into the charger on the counter. “But I’ll let Roger know, just in case. He’ll be—” would it ever get easier to say the words? “—taking over for me when I’m gone.”
She headed for the blanket, still heaped on the couch, shook it out, and started folding, corner to corner.
“I’d still like to teach you how to ride,” he said.
She halted. “Why, Beau? What’s the point?”
“So you’ll always know it was me that did.”
Her eyes itched from a sudden welling of emotion. “You think I’m going to forget you?”
He stood, lazily, like a tiger in the wild. “I hope you won’t.”
“Of course not.” Her voice thickened. “Never.”
“I’m not going to forget you, either.”
She managed another folding. Crooked, at best. “You won’t forget me because I’m the one who built the resort—or part of it. That’s all.” She avoided looking at him. “No other reason.”
“You’re wrong.” He took a slow, booted step toward her. “You’ve come to mean something to me.”
She gave up on the blanket, hugged it to her chest instead. “Don’t say that. Please.”
“I love you, Ava.”
Her heart crumpled like old parchment. Her chin quivered.
She hadn’t seen the admission coming. Love? Never. Attraction, yes. A summer fling? Probably.
But love and devotion and fidelity, like she’d always craved in a man?
No, no, no.
“Don’t ask me how or why. It just happened.” He kept coming toward her, step-by-step. “Never thought I’d fall for a big city girl, but I have. Hard. Forever.” He was so close; his long, strong arms could enfold her with a single reach. “I love you more than I thought I could ever love a woman, Ava. You consume me.”
She sucked in an agonized breath and whirled away. If he touched her, if he held her, she would lose all control. She’d give in to the pain, the heartache of leaving him and his family and his beautiful, wonderful ranch.
The blanket dropped to the floor. Gathering her composure like a pilot gathered a parachute, protecting herself from a crushing fall, she crossed her arms and shuddered. “Don’t you dare tell me that.”
“It’s the truth.”
“It can’t happen.”
“It already has.”
“Can’t you see why it can’t?” To her horror, tears leaked from her eyes. “Because it will destroy me in the end. Whenever someone has loved me, always loved me, I have…been…destroyed.”
He froze; in the next moment, he was there, bundling her tightly against him, holding her like he’d never let her go again.
“How, damn it?” he demanded. “Tell me what that means.”
It was likely the one thing he wouldn’t have suspected about her. The one thing she kept inside, locked away. Few people knew of the terrible loneliness she’d endured, the awful sense of abandonment she’d survived, except for Lucienne, and her loyalty kept it unspoken, too.
Ava tried to push him away. But he wouldn’t budge, the big ox, and so she just gave up, damn that weakness he wrought in her. Because, really, she needed him to hold her, to infuse some of his brawny, cowboy strength into her breaking heart.
She swiped at her tears. His warm, half-naked skin soaked into her, and she closed her eyes, cherishing the sensation. When she was gone, when she was alone again far away in New York City, she would relive this moment. His strength, his scent, his closeness.
“I’m bad luck,” she said into his shoulder. “I have this black cloud that hangs over me. I lose the people who matter to me the most. I always have, ever since I was very young, and I’m not going to let myself love you, Beau. I’m just not.”
He drew back and held her face in his hands. His gaze latched onto hers, hypnotizing her with its intensity.
“You’ve been hurt, and it’s tearing me up to see you like this,” he murmured huskily. “I want to know what happened. Getting it off your chest will help.”
She shook her head. “Talking won’t change anything.”
He drew away, then scooped her off her feet with one arm behind her knees and the other against her back; he carried her to the couch and settled her on his lap. With his arm braced around her waist, she had little chance of escaping him, nor did she want to, and once again, she sank into him, giving in to the touch of their bodies.
“Go on. Talk.” His arms circled her, fingers linking together. “We’ve got all night.”
“It’s a depressing story.”
He grunted. “I’ve spent a lot of time fighting in Afghanistan. A harsh conflict in a harsh land. I’ve seen and done things that go beyond the definition of depressing.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Sometimes, life is tough on many levels, Ava. Folks find their own way to survive. I can’t think of anything
you could say that will scare me or upset me or depress me. I want to hear everything.”
With Beau, and even Gunner, the three of them sheltered in the little cabin with its air-conditioned coziness, she wasn’t alone or abandoned, and if her past was distressing to some who had never experienced hurt or loss, well, maybe Beau was right.
He would understand.
She bit her lower lip. But it wasn’t easy deciding to tell him her life story. Nor was it easy dredging up the old memories she worked so hard to bury. They were always there, ready to remind her that they would never go away.
If she couldn’t share her secret with Beau, who could she tell?
“I was seven years old when my father died,” she began. Quietly. “He was mugged one night while walking my mother’s dog.”
He grunted, shook his head.
Ava closed her eyes. “He hated that dog. The dog didn’t like him much, either. Or even me. Always growling and nipping at us, never wanted to play like other dogs. He was just a stray my mother took in, and she put up with his misbehavior, much to my father’s frustration. But the dog loved to go on walks. It was the only time I can remember when he behaved himself.”
“Sounds like he was fortunate your mom took him in.”
“He was, I guess, if nothing else.” Ava shrugged. “But my dad didn’t like her walking the dog alone after dark when I’d gone to bed, so he did it for her.”
“And that was what he was doing when he died?”
“Yes. Some kids jumped him. He fought back, but he was outnumbered. One of them pulled a gun, shot him and the dog, then took his wallet. It was awful. I never heard how much money they got, but it couldn’t have been much.”
Beau’s arms tightened over her.
“Dad worked menial jobs, so my parents had little money, and there was no insurance. He left my mother virtually penniless with a child to raise. We managed for a while, barely, but she got sick with ovarian cancer. It wasn’t long after she received the diagnosis that I came home from school and found her already gone in her bed.” Her chest hurt, remembering. “I should have been there, Beau. She had no one with her, no one to hold her hand or kiss her cheek. No one to keep her from being afraid.”