Rodeo Dad

by Carla Cassidy

  He got out of his truck, slamming the door with more force than necessary. Damn Marissa with her winsome smile and sexy ways. Damn her with her musical laughter and soft sighs. Despite his intentions to the contrary, she twisted him up inside, made him want her over and over again even while his anger with her simmered deep inside him.

  Too restless to sit around the house, and with the refrigerator disappointingly empty, he decided to drive into town for dinner.

  It was late enough that Johnny had missed the dinner rush so he had no problem finding a booth near the back where his presence would be as unobtrusive as was possible. He ordered the dinner special, knowing the diner was known for large portions of their nightly special at reasonable prices. Tonight the special was meat loaf with mashed potatoes and green beans.

  Johnny ate slowly, eating not only his dinner but the hours of the evening between dusk and sleep...the heartache hours of the day.

  Conversation swirled around him as other late diners wandered in for a meal He couldn’t help but overhear snatches of conversations, pieces of other peoples’ lives. Somehow it all just made him more lonely.

  He’d just finished his meal and was about to get up when Marissa and Benjamin walked in. “Dad!” Benjamin exclaimed in delight and raced over to Johnny’s booth. Marissa followed more slowly, her footsteps dragging as if with dread.

  “What are you doing here?” Johnny asked his son.

  “Mom promised me a hot fudge sundae if I cleaned my room really, really good” Benjamin grinned widely as his mom reached them. “Hey, Mom, why don’t we just sit here with Dad?”

  Initially, as Marissa had dragged her feet approaching him, he’d assumed she was probably angry because of what he’d said to her before storming out of the house the night before. He figured she blamed him for their lovemaking, somehow made it his fault, believed that he’d seduced her into something she hadn’t wanted to do.

  But, instead of anger, he saw contrition in her eyes, and instead of blame, he saw penitence. “Mind if we join you?” she asked, although it seemed a mute point since Benjamin had already done just that.

  He indicated the seat across from him. She slid in next to Benjamin, looking as ill at ease as he felt. Dammit, he’d come here to escape her presence in his thoughts, and here she was, a full-blown reality looking far too luscious in a pair of tight jeans and a coral-colored T-shirt advertising her flower shop.

  She smiled, a tentative, hesitant smile that somehow pierced the armor he’d spent the entire day erecting around his heart. “Did you work at Cameron Gallagher’s place today?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “How did it go?”

  He shrugged. “It went. Cameron seems to be a fine man.”

  “He used to be a bounty hunter, you know,” Marissa said.

  Surprise shot through Johnny. “A bounty hunter?” His respect for the man rose by leaps and bounds. Apparently Cameron Gallagher had at one time worked for the principles of the law, and as far as he knew, Johnny had worked against those principles, but it hadn’t stopped Cameron from hiring him.

  The waitress appeared at their table and Benjamin and Marissa each ordered a hot fudge sundae. Johnny ordered nothing, explaining to his son that he’d just finished a big meal.

  “I have a ball game Wednesday night,” Benjamin said when the waitress had departed. “You’ll come to it, won’t you, Dad?”

  “Of course I’ll be there,” Johnny said without hesitation, warmed by the light of devotion that shone in his son’s eyes. “What time?”

  “Seven o’clock,” Marissa answered. “At the ball field by the grade school.” She dug into her purse and pulled out a dollar. “Why don’t you go put this in the jukebox and pick out some good music?” She handed the dollar to her son.

  He gave her a knowing look. “You want to talk to Dad by yourself, right?”

  She smiled self-consciously. “Right.”

  “Okay. I’ll go play the jukebox, and I’ll take a few minutes picking out the songs.”

  Marissa got up to let Benjamin out and when she slid back in across from Johnny, her gaze didn’t meet his. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since you left last night,” she began.

  Here it comes, Johnny thought, the recriminations and the denials.

  “You were right...and you were wrong.”

  He looked at her in surprise. “Wrong about what?”

  Marissa’s gaze locked with his, her eyes a beautiful deep brown and filled with emotion. “Johnny, I never believed you had anything to do with Sydney’s death. Never, for a single instant did I entertain a doubt in my mind about that.”

  He believed her. The truth was on her face, shining from her eyes, and he felt one of the cold fingers around his heart let go, allowing warmth to seep through him. He hadn’t realized until this moment how important it was to him that she, of all people on the earth, believed him incapable of Sydney’s murder.

  “And,” she continued, her gaze once again skittering away from his. “You were right when you said I was using the belief that you’d made love to Sydney as an excuse.” She stared down at the tabletop. “I was scared, Johnny. I was young, and stupid and scared.”

  He sat back, surprised by her confession. Before he could say anything she held up a hand to still him. “I was never ashamed of my feelings for you, Johnny. I didn’t tell my parents we were seeing each other because I knew they would disapprove and try to make me stop seeing you. I didn’t tell my friends because I didn’t want to share what was so special to me with anyone.”

  She sighed and raked a hand through her tumble of curls. “When Sydney was found murdered and you were arrested, I was afraid...afraid of what people might think if they knew I was seeing you, afraid that I would get tangled up in Sydney’s murder investigation. Shame wasn’t part of our relationship, Johnny. Until now.” Again her gaze met his. “And now I’m ashamed of the girl I was and how I let you down.”

  Johnny refused to allow himself to be moved by her words, by her repentance. Too many years had passed, too much anger and sorrow had wrapped together in his heart and created an impenetrable, protective barrier.

  “What do you want me to say?” he asked softly. “What in the hell kind of difference does it make now?”

  “I don’t know. I thought it might help for you to understand.”

  “Help with what?” he demanded. He drew a deep breath and leaned forward. “Now let me make you understand something, Marissa. Ten years ago I loved you more than anyone or anything on this earth. And when I needed you most, you weren’t there.” The cold fingers that remained clutching his heart constricted more tightly, squeezing the warmth out of him.

  He sat back once again, eyeing her with the dispassion of a man accustomed to circumventing emotions. “I won’t lie to you. I wanted you last night, and I still want you today. I like making love to you. But don’t make any mistake...it means nothing emotionally to me. I can’t just let go of the past, pretend that it didn’t happen. That your running away from me wasn’t the biggest blow I suffered. I don’t know that I can forgive you, Marissa.” He saw her immediate reaction to his words, each like a slap across her face.

  She swallowed visibly, but had no chance to reply as the waitress arrived with their ice cream order and Benjamin trailed at her heels.

  Benjamin scooted into the seat next to Marissa and smiled at Johnny. “You want to share my sundae, Dad? I’ll share with you.”

  Benjamin’s words, so sweet, so loving, suddenly made Johnny feel far too vulnerable. Somewhere, in the mess that was his life, he must have done something very good to deserve Benjy. “No, thanks, son,” he said and slid out of the booth. “I’m really tired, so I think I’m going to head on home.”

  “You won’t forget my game on Wednesday night, will you?” Benjamin asked.

  Johnny flashed him a smile. “Not a chance.” With a curt nod to Marissa, he walked to the cashier, paid for his dinner, then left the restaurant.

>   He drove home slowly, carefully distracting his thoughts away from the conversation he’d just had with Marissa. He didn’t want to think about her. He was tired of thinking about her.

  At least she now understood where he was coming from where she was concerned. She knew not to expect anything more from him than physical pleasure and shared parental duties. No emotional ties, no painful recriminations. The past was gone and there was no going back for the two of them. She’d forfeited his love through abandonment and there was no absolution for her sin.

  By the time he arrived back at his place, dusk had fallen and the ebony shadows of night clouds stretched to steal the last pale glow of twilight.

  Johnny left his truck and sank down on the front porch, staring out over the ranch that held such a large portion of his heart.

  If he didn’t win the bull-riding contest, he didn’t know what the future might hold. He needed to give Benjamin something, and he wanted this land to be his legacy to his son. But a ranch without livestock, land without fields of grain, was nothing more than an empty promise.

  Johnny stood. Despite his aching weariness, in spite of the deepening shadows of night, he was too restless to go into the emptiness of the house. Maybe a walk would work off his unsettled energy and make sleep come easy.

  He walked with no specific destination in mind. As he walked, he breathed deeply of the night-scented air, watched the stars overhead winking on like a million miniature crystal lamps.

  Marissa’s words in the diner had surprised him. He hadn’t expected a soul-shattering admission of guilt from her. But in effect that’s what she’d done, confessed to letting him down, acknowledged her desertion of him.

  First his father, then Marissa, followed by his mother’s death. Seemed most people in his life had walked out on him in one way or another. Doesn’t matter, he thought. He didn’t need anyone other than Benjamin. His son wouldn’t leave him.

  He stopped walking, recognizing where he was by the dark outline of the structure in front of him. The old shed. This was the place where his life had finally come unraveled, where all had been lost.

  Sydney. Her name rang in his head, a distant echo of friendship lost, of youth stolen. It was hard to feel sorry for himself. He’d lost ten years, but she’d lost her very life.

  He froze, his breath catching in his chest as a pale light flashed from within the structure. Somebody was in the shed. But who would be out here in the dark...and why?

  Johnny eased closer, heart pounding furiously. Drawing a deep breath, he shoved open the door and froze once again. “Sydney ..” The name whispered from him in shock as he stared at the blond-haired girl who stared back at him in equal surprise. Sydney...she held a flashlight in one hand and something he couldn’t quite see in the other. Sydney.

  But, of course it wasn’t Sydney. Sydney was dead His mind worked frantically to make sense of the young woman’s presence. “Gillian,” he said in realization.

  His voice broke the inertia that had held her. With a small cry, she turned and slipped through the back of the shed where a board had rotted and fallen to the ground.

  “Gillian, wait!” he crined, hurrying after her. “Please...I just want to talk to you.”

  As he tried to slide through the same opening in the structure as she had, she looked back at him. In her eyes he saw more than fear, he saw abject terror.

  He stopped struggling and instead watched as the beam from her flashlight was swallowed up by the darkness of the night.

  Gillian. Johnny stepped back into the interior of the shed, his mind reeling. Dear God, she had looked so much like Sydney. The same pale hair, the same petite features....

  What had she been doing out here? Johnny stared around him in confusion. Moonlight spilled through the gaps in the wooden slats and he saw that the dirt floor had been torn up, as if Gillian had been digging for treasure.

  What could she have been looking for?

  Bending down, with the aid of the bright moonlight that illuminated the night, Johnny ran his hands across the ground. It appeared as if she’d dug around in every inch of the floor. If there had been something buried here, she’d found it, for Johnny could see nothing in the dirt.

  What had she held in her left hand? The flashlight had been in her right, but she’d had something in her left. Something she’d found out here? Something that had been buried?

  Johnny left the shed and walked slowly back toward his house, his heart as heavy as the full moon hanging low in the sky. Gillian had looked at him with such fear. He knew it was because she believed he’d cold-bloodedly killed her sister.

  He had to clear his name. Somehow, someway, he had to find out who had really killed Sydney. Otherwise he would never rid himself of the black shadows of night that filled his heart.

  Chapter 12

  “I can’t believe they aren’t letting you decorate the prom,” Lucy said as she poured herself another cup of coffee. “You’ve provided flowers for the prom ever since you’ve owned this shop.”

  Lucy and Marissa sat in the backroom of the flower shop and Marissa had just related to her friend her conversation with the Emerys the day before.

  It had become habit for Lucy to stop in every Tuesday, on her day off at the diner, and share a little friendly morning gossip and coffee with Marissa.

  Marissa frowned into her mug thoughtfully, her mind going over the conversation that had taken place at the Emery home. “I got the feeling that it was Brad’s dictate rather than Rachel’s. He seemed to be the one in control.”

  “Big surprise. He’s always been a bully,” Lucy replied as she once again sat down next to Marissa at the small work area.

  “Rachel has really aged since last time I saw her. She looked so weary, so beaten-down yesterday.”

  “Maybe it’s because the ten-year anniversary of her daughter’s murder is in two weeks. Prom must be really hard on Rachel, since that’s the night Sydney was found dead.” Lucy stirred a large spoonful of sugar into her coffee. “I mean, this time of year has got to be particularly hard on her.” She took a sip of the brew. “What did Johnny say about all this?”

  “I didn’t tell him, and I don’t intend to tell him.” Marissa tried to shove away the memory of his expression when he’d told her he couldn’t forgive her, he’d never forgive her.

  She sighed and threaded her fingers through her hair. “What’s the point? He already knows the Emerys don’t want him in Mustang. He knows they’re angry that he’s stirring up the murder again.”

  “Yeah, but he should also know the price you’re paying for standing up for him to the Emerys,” Lucy observed.

  Marissa smiled ruefully. “Maybe it’s a weird form of delayed justice or something.” Lucy looked at her blankly, obviously not understanding. “Ten years ago I didn’t stand up for Johnny because I was afraid of the reprisals I might have to face. I’m just doing now what I should have done back then.”

  Lucy fluffed her blond curls, settled back in her chair and eyed her friend thoughtfully. “Are you sorry he came back here?”

  “I went to the prison three weeks before he was released and tried to talk him into settling someplace else,” Marissa confessed.

  Lucy’s round blue eyes widened in surprise. “You’re kidding me,” she gasped.

  Marissa shook her head. “I didn’t want him to know about Benjamin. I was afraid of the changes that would happen to my life if he came back here.”

  “And now?”

  “And now I know Johnny belongs here in Mustang as much as I do, and I had no right to try to discourage his choosing to come home.” She stared into her coffee mug, conflicting emotions warring inside her. “There’s no doubt about it, things would have been easier if he’d never come back here. But when I see him with Benjy, see the love they have for each other, I’m glad he’s here, no matter what price has to be paid.”

  “Word through the grapevine is that he’s going to compete in the rodeo,” Lucy said.

  M
arissa frowned. “Don’t remind me. I get upset every time I think about him taking such a risk.”

  “But it isn’t that big of a risk,” Lucy said, then continued in explanation. “I mean, Johnny was a terrific bull rider years ago.”

  “Yeah, but it still worries me.”

  Lucy narrowed her eyes. “He’s getting to you, isn’t he?”

  This time it was Marissa’s turn to look at her in surprise. “What do you mean?”

  “Johnny. He’s getting under your skin. You’re falling in love with him again.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Marissa scoffed. She got up to get herself more coffee, too unsettled by Lucy’s words to remain seated

  She poured herself a second cup, but instead of returning to the table, she began to pace back and forth in the small work area. “I can’t deny that I care about Johnny. After all, he is the father of my son. We share a certain history. But I’d be a fool to let him get into my heart.”

  Lucy grinned. “Then you’re a fool.”

  “No, I’m not,” Marissa objected, a heated flush sweeping over her face. “And trust me, I know what a fool I’d be to fall in love with Johnny again. There’s a part of him that hates me, a part of him that can’t forgive me for not being there for him years ago.”

  She set her mug down on the counter, but didn’t stop her pacing back and forth “He’s let me know in no uncertain terms that he would never be able to get past his bitterness where I’m concerned. Trust me, Lucy. I have a firm grip on my heart where Johnny is concerned.”

  Lucy nodded, as if Marissa had finally managed to convince her. “Speaking of your heart...what did you think of Frank?”

  “He was nice, very mellow and pleasant.”

  Lucy shot her a look of disgust. “You sound like you’re describing a glass of buttermilk ”