by Becky Wade
“I’d really like to work here,” Celia said quietly. “Truly, I would. But I’m afraid that you were right, that maybe I am—”
“Overqualified?”
“Yes.” She swallowed against a foolish wad of emotion.
“I figured.” Donetta scooted a note pad and pen in her direction. “Write down your number, and I’ll let you know if I hear about any jobs around here that would be right for you.”
“Thank you.”
“You have a little girl, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Take some cookies to her. On me.” Donetta placed two M&M and two chocolate chip cookies in a bag.
Celia accepted the gift and climbed off the stool. “Thank you again. It was nice meeting you.”
“You come back now.”
Celia walked into the heat. She moved away from Cream or Sugar keeping her head up and her face genial so that Donetta wouldn’t think her heartbroken.
Two storefronts later a tingling sensation of awareness slid down the base of her neck. That particular tingle meant that Ty was nearby. She combed the faces of the people milling on the square’s sidewalk and spotted him fifteen yards away, walking in her direction with the help of his crutches, looking right at her and grinning.
Of all the people she might have run into at this low and depressing moment, he was the worst. Ty, King of Confidence, Sir of Wealth, and Duke of Carefree Fame. Confidence had likely gilded him in the womb. His wealth and fame had come to him because he’d been good at sitting on top of bulls. He had no way of relating to mere mortals who had to do actual work in order to survive.
His brown T-shirt had either faded perfectly or been bought to look as though it had. The dimple that caused her heart to catch made an appearance. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
“I went to your house. Your car was there but you weren’t, so I figured you’d come to the square.”
“Your mental powers rival Einstein’s.”
He laughed. “You’re rude as ever.”
“I prefer to think of myself as charmingly feisty. Why were you looking for me?”
“I missed you, sweet one.”
Horrible fellow. Whenever he said these sorts of things, he reminded her of the man she’d fallen in love with. Twice.
“You’ve been avoiding me all week, and I can’t take it anymore. I’m sick of seeing you for five minutes when Addie comes over to ride. I’m greedy. I want more.”
“Just so you know, I don’t believe one word that you just said.”
“Then I’m going to have to do a better job of convincing you.”
They stared at each other, the air between them sizzling. The memory of the kiss they’d shared came back to her in excruciating detail.
“Can I buy you a snow cone?” he asked.
“No. I—”
“I’m buying you a snow cone, and you’re going with me even if I have to toss you over my shoulder.” He didn’t wait for a response, just used a hand to turn her in the direction she’d come and give her a nudge. “Are you going to make a scene in the middle of Holley’s downtown, or are you going to come along nicely?”
“Bully.” In truth, a snow cone didn’t strike her as a terrible idea. “I’m going to come along, but probably not nicely.”
They moved toward one of the square’s corner outlets.
As they walked, women either smiled at Ty, greeted him, or peeked at him surreptitiously. None remained immune to him.
Moving with athletic grace on his crutches, he led Celia to a lot just behind the square. A horseshoe-shaped driveway surrounded a building the size of an outhouse. Its owner had painted the tiny structure like a candy cane, in red and white stripes. A rainbow-hued sign read Sally’s Snow Cones and listed the available flavors beneath. Windows opened out from both sides, one serving drive-through customers, one walk-ups.
“What’ll it be?” Ty asked.
Might as well go for gold. “The Supreme.” Which promised watermelon, grape, lemonade, and coconut flavors.
Ty’s lips quirked at her choice. If nothing else could ever be said about Ty’s feelings for her, at least it could be said that he found her amusing. Tawny he probably found lovable, sexy, and particularly skilled with casseroles.
Which would, of course, trump amusing.
Ty went old school and ordered strawberry. They took their snow cones to one of two wooden picnic tables situated under a tree. Celia sat, settling her bag of cookies next to her. As Ty lowered himself onto the bench across the table, she heard a soft rattle, like the click of pebbles in a jar.
“What’s that sound?”
“Nothing.”
Quite possible. The noise had been faint.
When she sampled her snow cone, blessedly cold and tart lemonade syrup ran down her tongue.
Ty pulled off his sunglasses, revealing the impossible sheer blue of his gaze.
Celia knew exactly what Ty’s woman-attracting super power was. It was his eye contact. He could look into your eyes and without saying a word assure you that you were the most fascinating woman in the world and call you beautiful in six languages.
She fidgeted in her seat, thirty years old and experiencing a hot flash beneath the power of his eye contact.
“What brought you to the square today?” he asked.
“I just came to look around.”
“Let me know when you’re ready to find a job. I’ll help you.” A car pulled up to the drive-through window. “Not that I want you to be in any hurry about that. Take a break for as long as you want.”
She dipped her head and concentrated on her snow cone, wondering how much longer she’d be able to afford the pride that kept her silent. “Weren’t you going to see your doctor this morning?”
“Yep.”
“And?”
“The knee’s healing fine. He doesn’t want me to drive for another three weeks, though.”
“That’s too bad.”
“I ignored his advice. As soon as Jake brought me home from the appointment, I got in my truck and came to find you.”
“Ty,” she said, disapproving.
“I’m not very good at following rules. And the no-driving rule is just stupid.” He ate a spoonful of snow cone. “I made it over here fine.”
“Did the doctor say anything about your bull riding?”
“Bull riding is over for me.”
She studied him, looking for clues that would tell her how devastating the news had been for him. “Without a doubt?”
“Without a doubt.”
“I’m sorry.” With three world championship titles, he was one of the greatest bull riders of all time. Though he hid it well, the end of his storied career had to be difficult for him to accept. “What are you going to do now?”
“The BRPC has asked me to commentate some of their broadcasts.”
“They want to put that face”—Celia pointed at him—“on TV?”
“Believe it or not, some women—just a few and not you, clearly—actually like my face.”
“Wonders never cease.” Her lips tilted into a smile.
“The other thing I’m thinking about doing is raising rodeo stock. Bulls, sheep, horses. Did I tell you that’s what my dad does?”
“You’d mentioned it.”
“My neighbor and his wife have decided to sell. If I buy their property, I’ll have enough land to get started.”
“Are you going to do it?”
“I might try to.” His strong fingers toyed with his sunglasses. “Jim’s land runs in between my property and a plot that belongs to an old guy named Howard Sanders. I already know Howard’s going to want Jim’s land, too. It used to be in Howard’s family back in his granddad’s time. He’s been waiting for years to get a shot at it.”
“Will Jim sell it to you over Howard?”
“Probably. I’ve got deeper pockets.”
“And let me guess. Jim’s wife likes your fa
ce.”
He smiled crookedly. Something like fate pulled between them. It made her want to throw away reason, place herself in his lap, and hug him with every ounce of strength she had. “I talked with Meg a few days ago.”
“Yeah?”
“She told me that Bo thinks that you’ve been faithful to me ever since our wedding.”
He hesitated for a split second, then his face turned chiding. “Do I look like the faithful type to you?”
“No. I told Meg that I thought Bo’s theory was ridiculous.”
“I’m not to be trusted, Celia.”
“I know.” She got lost in him for a moment, dumbly wishing he was trustworthy. Wishing he’d loved her then. Wishing he loved her now.
Whoa! As usual, his nearness was muddling her brain. She pushed to her feet in a hurry. “I’d better go. Thanks for the snow cone.”
———
Ty watched Celia drop her trash in the can, then walk quickly away from him, carrying her white paper sack. He scowled.
He and Bo hardly ever talked about Ty’s dating life, yet Bo had guessed the truth. His older brother had always been full of intuition about people and horses that proved right. It sure would be nice, though, if Bo would keep his genius-level intuition to himself.
With a flick of his wrist, Ty tossed what was left of his snow cone into the garbage. He’d needed to see Celia today. It hadn’t been optional for him. He’d been unable to sit in his house for another minute without her.
Physical desire he understood. But what drew him to Celia with such power was a lot more complicated. Celia was made up of a thousand traits, like any person. Some of her traits he liked and some he didn’t. But the way her traits stacked up, plus the way his traits stacked up, somehow made her into someone that he’d needed to find just now.
Thanks to chemistry or stupidity or maybe even God, an invisible bond existed between the two of them.
He’d told her the truth just now when he said he couldn’t be trusted. More than he wanted Celia, he wanted what was best for her and Addie. He was trying to protect them from himself. He wasn’t very good at it. Honorable people resisted temptation, and resisting the temptation of Celia had never been his strong suit.
With effort, he pushed to standing. He made his way back to the square on his crutches, then turned in the direction of the donut shop.
When he’d first spotted Celia, she’d been coming out of the donut shop looking like someone had stolen her puppy. If he had to guess, he’d say her white sack had been filled with cookies. The Celia he knew was too cheap to buy somebody else’s cookies. Why would she, when she could make the best cookies in the world inside her own home?
As his hand wrapped around the donut shop’s door handle, he spotted a Help Wanted sign taped to the front window. Ah. The forest fairy had been in here about the job, it hadn’t worked out, and she’d left with cookies as a consolation prize.
Hadn’t he told her over and over that he’d get her a job? Instead, she’d ignored him and gone job-searching on her own. As usual, her stubborn independence chapped his hide.
He let himself in.
“Well, who do we have here?” Donetta Clark, who had a daughter about his age, straightened tall behind the counter.
“Trouble. That’s who.”
She slapped her hands together and laughed. “Ty Porter, you rascal!”
“Donetta, you look gorgeous. Still giving Jerry heart palpitations?”
“Every day. Did you hear about Willie Mickel and the heart attack he had? All that muesli he’d been eating split his heart right down the middle. Ended up face-down dead on top of his cereal back in June. Proves that a body can’t take that much health food.”
Ty chuckled and spent a few minutes shooting the breeze with her about her family and the Rangers. He eyed the food she had for sale, lined up behind glass. He knew from experience that it didn’t taste half as good as the stuff Celia made. “I’ve been dreaming about your sheet cake for weeks, Donetta. Will you be mad at me if I buy all the sheet cake you have left?”
“I won’t be too mad.” Her eyes twinkled as she pulled out the tray holding the thin chocolate cake covered with chocolate frosting. “You gonna eat all this yourself?”
“I have a big family.” In truth, he knew that buying her sheet cake would sweeten her toward him.
“Speaking of family.” She began moving the squares of cake into a flat box. “Did you know that your wife was in here earlier? Cute little thing with those curls and all.”
“I noticed the sign out front. Did she come in for the job?”
“Yes, but I couldn’t pay her enough. It’s a shame, too, because she’d have been good.”
“I agree.” He rested a forearm on the top of the display case and considered his best strategy. “You’re a woman who appreciates some pride in a person, aren’t you, Donetta?”
“Oh, you’d better believe it.”
“I appreciate pride, too, but between you and me, I’ve got my work cut out for me with Celia. She doesn’t want anyone doing for her what she can do for herself. Not even me.”
“Sure,” Donetta soothed, “sure.” If she could have craned her ears forward to catch more juicy pieces of gossip, he believed she would have.
“I want to help Celia,” he said.
“’Course you do.”
“Personally, I think this is a perfect place for her to work. It’s close to her house. You and Jerry are great people to work for. Plus, she loves to bake.”
“She’s certainly the kind of employee I’d want to have.”
“In that case, I have an idea.”
Donetta shut the lid on the cake box and met his gaze directly. “I’m listening.”
He and Donetta, he sensed, were fairly equal in street smarts. They’d both been around the block a few times. “Whatever you can pay Celia, I’ll match.” He didn’t want to make Celia’s pay so high that she’d be suspicious. Just high enough so that she could afford to work here.
“Don’t you want to know how much I offered to pay her before you go off making that kind of promise?”
He smiled. He’d been raised by parents who knew how to pinch a penny, and he respected people like them. Donetta was frugal. But when it came to Celia, he was not. Whatever this venture cost him, he’d willingly pay. “Sure, if you want to tell me.”
She told him.
How was anyone supposed to survive on that? Even twice the amount seemed pitifully small. No wonder Celia had turned down the job. “I’ll match it.”
Donetta took his measure. “And if I agree, then what? You want me to call Celia and offer her double what I did earlier?”
“Maybe wait until Monday.” Again, he had to be careful, or Celia would be on to him. “And then, yes. I’d like you to call her and offer her double.”
“I could tell her that Jerry and I had a long conversation about hiring her and that we took another look at our budget.” Donetta, no dummy, caught on fast. “I’ll say that Jerry convinced me that we could pay her more, after all.”
Ty nodded.
“Without mentioning your involvement.”
“Without mentioning my involvement to Celia or anyone.”
“Except Jerry.”
“Except Jerry,” he agreed. “Otherwise, it’s our secret.”
“So at the end of every week, when I write Celia a check, you’re going to write me a check for half the amount?” Donetta’s head angled in question.
“Every week. You have my word.”
She rolled her tongue around in her mouth, thinking it over.
He’d left Las Vegas after their wedding and gone on to achieve far more than his rightful share of his dreams. Celia had gone on to achieve none of hers.
The time had come to make that right. Celia had always wanted to own a coffee shop. Cream or Sugar didn’t belong to Celia and was probably in worse shape than the bakery she’d imagined. But it gave him a place to start.
“Ty?�
� Donetta extended her hand, and Ty shook it. “You have yourself a deal.”
Chapter Eighteen
Celia froze as a sudden epiphany struck.
She shook the bottle of multivitamins she’d been in the process of lifting from her kitchen drawer. Then shook them again for good measure, listening.
All at once she knew exactly what sound had come from Ty’s pocket yesterday when they’d been sitting down together at Sally’s Snow Cones. It had been the rattle of pills in a medicine bottle. It had not been nothing.
It could be he was carrying around something benign, of course. Maybe Tylenol or a container of gum or mints. If she’d heard that telltale rattling coming from anyone else’s pocket, she wouldn’t have given it a second thought. But knowing Ty’s personality and the circumstance of his injured leg and lost career . . . Her instincts warned her that she needed to give it a long second thought.
She glanced out the windows. It was fully dark. She’d tucked Addie into bed more than an hour ago.
Were the pills pain meds? If so, was Ty’s pain so urgent he needed to keep them in his pocket? Worry twined through her thoughts. Could he be using the pills to medicate more than physical hurt?
She grabbed her phone and dialed. “Uncle Danny?”
“What’s up, C?”
“Would you mind coming over to my place for a little bit? Addie’s asleep, and I need to run an errand.”
“Happy to.” He did not ask what kind of errand she needed to run at nine o’clock at night. Yet another reason why she loved him. “Be there in five.”
At some point before Celia had arrived in Texas, Ty had added the gingerbread house key and also his house key to her key ring. She hadn’t had occasion to use his house key until now. She slotted it into the lock on his front door and turned it smoothly. If she barged in and found him wrapped in a set of foolishly trusting feminine arms, then so be it.
She closed the door behind her and strode purposefully across his foyer in the direction of his bedroom—