by Dee Davis
“This isn’t any of your business, Dad,” Tate said on an exhale as his gaze remained locked on Tucker.
“Anything to do with the two of you is my business,” Zeke answered, power in the quiet strength of his words. “So who wants to tell me what’s going on?”
“Tucker fucked Hannah.”
Tucker winced. Put like that it sounded so much less than it was.
“That true?” Zeke turned to his youngest son.
Tucker nodded, wiping the blood from his lip with his sleeve. “Except that it was a hell of a lot more than just fucking.”
Zeke’s eyes narrowed as he considered his boys. “And Hannah, she had a choice in all of this, I presume.”
“That doesn’t have anything to do with it,” Tate protested, but Zeke cut him off, his eyes moving to Tucker.
“Yes, sir. She did. What happened was a long time coming, I think. Something we couldn’t avoid any longer.”
“Even though she’s your brother’s girl.”
“She gets to make up her own mind. And if she chooses me then I’m not going to walk away. Even for Tate.”
“And has she?” Zeke was still frowning. “Chosen you, I mean?”
“I think so. But we didn’t have a chance to finalize anything.”
Tate growled and took another menacing step, but Zeke waved him off.
“But you want her.”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“No matter what this does to your relationship with your brother.”
Tucker winced, but nodded. “No matter.”
“And what about you?” Zeke turned to Tate.
“What about me, what?” Tate’s face was still dark with anger. “I don’t want anything to do with either one of them. My girlfriend is a whore and my brother isn’t much better.”
This time it was Tucker who made a move on his brother, his vision going red.
“You don’t mean that, Tate,” Zeke said, holding up a hand to ward off Tucker. “Hannah may not have handled things in the most appropriate way, but she’s far from a whore and I won’t have you calling any woman that without just cause.”
“But Dad…” Tate trailed off, still eyeing his brother with anger.
“What happened with Tucker and Hannah happened, Tate. And you’re going to have to deal with it. No matter how distasteful. I can’t condone the way it came about but I’m not one to deny anyone the right to choose who to love.” A shadow passed over his father’s face.
Tate didn’t seem to notice. “Love? Who said anything about love? They were fuck—”
“Enough,” Zeke said. “Go on back to the house. Your momma’s worried and I’m sure by now she’s got enough food fixed to feed an army. We’ll talk later. Right now I need to have a word with your brother.”
Tate swallowed a retort, and with one last hate-filled glare at his brother strode across to where his horse was placidly cropping grass as if there wasn’t anything at all unusual about the two Johnson boys nearly killing each other.
Zeke waited until Tate’s horse’s gallop faded before turning back to Tucker.
“You really hurt him bad.”
“I know.” Tucker’s jaw tightened as a wave of guilt and grief washed through him. “I didn’t plan it, Dad, I swear. It just happened.”
“You’ve been carrying that girl around in your heart as long as I can remember. I just wish you’d done something about it before your brother took it in his head that she was the one for him as well.”
“I thought she wanted him too.”
“And you’re sure she doesn’t?”
He thought back over all that had happened. Of Hannah in his arms, her lips, her hands, her legs wrapped tight around him. And then he thought of her words. Her promise.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Well, then I don’t see that there’s anything left to do.”
“But Tate—”
“Will have to deal. I don’t like it. And your momma’s going to hate it. But I meant what I said; I’m never going to be the one to stand in the way of love. There isn’t anything more important. You just be sure that’s what it is. Because I can tell you from personal experience that the cost can be pretty damn high.”
“You mean you don’t think that Tate will ever forgive me.”
“I can’t say what he’ll do in the long run. But in the here and now I’d say you’re not going to be on his short list of favorite people. Best to stay out of his way.”
“That isn’t going to be easy. Storm’s not that big.”
“You’ll figure it out,” his father said, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. “You always do. And now, unless I miss my guess, I think there’s a young lady that’s probably waiting to hear from you. Although it might be best if you clean up a bit before heading that way.”
His father mounted his horse and with a quick salute headed back for the ranch. Tucker sat down on a rock, looking down at the pastureland below. He’d spent all his life in this part of Texas. Hell, he hadn’t even gone that far to college. And he figured he’d probably live here until he died.
But in all those years, he’d never done anything to risk alienating anyone in his family. Especially not Tate. Hell, he’d kept his head down and pretty much followed wherever his brother had led. And his dad was right: choosing Hannah over Tate was going to cause fallout. Not just with his brother, but with his whole family. Nothing would ever really be the same.
He sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly.
Thing was, he was certain that Hannah Grossman was worth it.
* * * *
“Okay, I know I’m not supposed to say this, but—Oh. My. God. What in heaven’s name happened here last night? Both of my brothers look as if they’ve been in a prizefight, my father is glaring at everyone, and my mother is making food for thousands, which is never a good sign, although Carol and Danny were delighted when I left them there. So what gives?” Tara dropped down on Hannah’s sofa, tossing a paper bag with what smelled like Alice Johnson’s peach muffins onto the coffee table. Engine immediately hopped up onto the table and had a cautious sniff.
“It’s complicated,” Hannah replied, nodding toward the coffee pot, not able to summon enough energy to go and pour her friend a cup. She’d waited up most of the night, praying that Tucker would be back. Praying that Tate would not. Which was the coward’s way out, but there you had it.
“Of that I have no doubt. And I thought my life was crazy. So are you going to tell me what happened? Or do I have to go back to the ranch and try to drag it out of my brothers?” She picked the cat off of the table and cradled it in her arms.
Hannah sighed. She’d never been able to keep anything from Tara and, even though she was fairly certain that her friend was going to hate her once she knew the truth, Hannah wasn’t going to start lying to her now. Besides, better straight from the horse’s mouth and all that.
“I slept with Tucker.”
“No shit?” Tara’s mouth opened and then closed and then opened again. Engine hopped off the sofa to join Molly and Astaire on the windowsill. The dogs were curled on their beds, ignoring the commotion completely.
Hannah nodded, wrapping her arms around her middle. “And then Tate walked in on us.”
“Oh sweet Jesus.” For the wife of a pastor, Tara had quite the vocabulary. At least when she was flummoxed. “That can’t have been good.”
“Which part?” Hannah immediately regretted her quip. She was talking about Tara’s brothers, after all.
But, despite the gravity of the situation, Tara’s lips twitched. “The latter, obviously. And that certainly explains the blood and bruises.”
“Blood?” Her stomach wrenched at the thought. “Oh God, what have I done?”
“Finally got off your ass and picked the man you really want?” Tara’s question felt more like a pronouncement, and Hannah looked at her friend in surprise. “Don’t look at me like that,” Tara scolded. “I know you’ve always had a thing f
or Tucker. Hell, he’s always had one for you. But I figured the two of you must have your reasons for keeping your distance.”
“But I was with Tate.”
“Not your best decision. But if you ask me it wasn’t his either. And although it’s going to be a while before he even thinks about forgiving either one of you, I don’t think this is going to destroy him or anything.”
“You’re saying he wasn’t really in love with me.”
“Truth? I think he likes the idea of being in love. Or, more definitively, he likes the idea of finding the perfect partner. And for whatever reason he thought that was you.”
“Well, I guess I showed him.” Hannah’s stomach continued to lurch but this time it was guilt. “I swear to you, Tara, I didn’t mean to hurt Tate.”
“I know that. But you did. And now we’re all going to have to deal with it. What about you and Tucker? This was more than a one-off, right?”
“I think so. I hope so. It was so wonderful and then it was so ugly. Tate called me awful names and Tucker went after him and hasn’t been back.” And of course it was the last that hurt the most.
“Oh sweetie, I’m sorry. I love both my brothers with all my heart, but they can be thickheaded sometimes. Whatever Tate said was in the heat of the moment, and I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”
“Oh he meant it, trust me. And I can’t say that I blame him. I should never have let this happen—at least not like this. I should have been more honest with myself. Things between Tate and I have been strained lately. And then Tucker always seems to be there—”
“When you need him? That’s definitely his MO. He’s a good guy. Strong, silent type, granted. But a good guy.”
“But so is Tate. And I just wish that I’d—”
“What? Fallen for him instead?” Tara’s smile was rueful. “If only it were that simple.”
“So you don’t hate me?”
“Of course not. I wish it hadn’t fallen out quite so dramatically, but hey, this is Texas. We always do things in a big way.”
“Your mom and dad are definitely not going to be fans of mine.”
“Well, then it’s a good thing you’re not in love with my mom and dad. You are in love with Tucker, aren’t you?” For the first time since she’d arrived, Tara wore the look of a protective sister.
“I…I think maybe I have been for a long time. But I’ve been sitting here all night waiting and now I’m afraid I misread what it is he wants. And I don’t dare go out to the ranch.”
“Probably wise. Last I saw, Tate was occupying the kitchen like he was a warlord and it was some kind of fortress—complete with a parental entourage and an endless supply of peach muffins.” She poked at the sack on the table.
“And Tucker?” Hannah was almost afraid to ask.
“Nursing his wounds up on the ridge. I think he and Tate were having it out up there. But thankfully Daddy arrived before there was too much damage. At least they didn’t have guns. Anyway, I doubt he’ll come down until Tate’s safely back in town.”
Hannah nodded, her heart twisting. “Right. I don’t guess there’s any reason why he should come down before that.”
“I can think of one,” Tucker said from the entryway, Fred cuddled cozily beneath one arm.
Tara jumped to her feet, her eyes moving from her brother to Hannah and then back to her brother again. “I think maybe that’s my cue to exit. At least y’all are keeping things interesting around here.”
With a quick smile and an ear tug for Fred, she headed out the door. Hannah pulled to her feet as the door slammed behind her friend.
For a moment, she just stood there drinking him in, her heart beating staccato against her ribs. Then she closed the distance between them as he leaned down to put Fred on the floor.
“You’re hurt.” She reached a finger up to trace the cut across the corner of his lip.
“It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”
“It’s more than that and you know it.” His jaw was turning purple, and it looked like he just might have a black eye.
“You should see Tate,” he quipped, the humor not quite reaching his eyes.
She flinched. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t say it unless you really mean it. Because I don’t regret any of it. It’s like I told my father: I love my brother but not enough to give up a chance with you.”
She swallowed, tears filling her eyes. This wasn’t going to be easy. They’d opened Pandora’s box and now there would be hell to pay. But he was right, she wasn’t sorry—at least not about being with him.
He cupped her face in his hands and lowered his mouth to hers, his kiss a declaration—a beginning. She reached for his hand and pulled him toward the bedroom. There’d be time enough for talk later.
CHAPTER 7
“I think that’s the last of it,” Rita Mae Prager said to her sister and niece as she adjusted the placement of one of their pies. “Looks like we’re ready to open for business.”
Their Founders’ Day booth was right in the heart of things. And even though the festival didn’t officially start for another hour, the square and the adjacent church grounds were already crowded. Rita Mae had been coming to Founders’ Day for sixty-odd years. And despite the passage of time, it hadn’t actually changed all that much.
Oh, the booths were fancier now, and they had high-tech speakers and microphones for the grandstand. The band playing in the gazebo was wired as well. But they were still playing good old country music. And the reasons for celebrating were still the same. Storm, Texas, was a great place to call home.
“I do believe you’ve outdone yourself this year,” Anna Mae said, moving to stand beside her. “These pecan pies are the prettiest I’ve ever seen.”
“Yes, well, all the less than perfect pies were sent over for the pie eating contest,” Mary Louise said, grinning over at her aunts from where she was preparing a vat of iced tea.
“Which is as it should be,” Rita Mae responded. “Those pies are gone so quickly no one has time to notice if the crust is just right or the fruit is arranged properly.”
“No one notices at all, if you ask me.” Anna Mae shrugged. “They’re too busy thinking about how good they’re going to taste.”
“Speaking of which,” Tara Douglas said as she and her daughter Carol came up to the stand, “I know that y’all aren’t officially open for business yet, but I promised Carol she could have a piece of pie if she helped her daddy with the dunking booth.”
“Is the pastor going to sit on the throne himself this year?”
“He says not. But then he says that every year. So, I’ll believe it when I see it.” Tara laughed.
“Chocolate is your favorite if I recollect,” Rita Mae said to Carol, who grinned and stared at the whipped cream topped pie with hungry eyes.
Anna Mae cut a huge slice and slipped it onto a paper plate before handing it to Carol. “There you go, sweetheart. Forks are over there.” She pointed to a small table near the edge of the booth with utensils and napkins and straws and so forth.
Tara reached for her wallet.
“Your money’s no good here,” Rita Mae said with a wave of her hand. “Pie’s on the house. I needed an official taster. And Carol’s perfect for the job.” She turned her attention to the little girl. “So, how is it?”
“Wonnerful,” Carol said over a large bite of pie, chocolate and whipped cream smeared across her chin.
“Well, then I guess we’re good to go.” Rita Mae shot Carol a smile and then turned back to Tara. “So I heard your brothers got into it last night.”
Tara’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “How in the world did you hear about that already?”
“Your momma came by earlier,” Anna Mae said.
“Momma’s here?”
“She’s working with her brother over at the Murphys’ booth. Sonya isn’t feeling well, so Aiden called Alice in to help. Anyway, she told us about what happened with Tucker and Hannah.”
“I’m surprised she said anything. She usually plays things so close to the vest.”
“Well I kinda wheedled it out of her,” Rita Mae said with a shrug. “I could see she was upset about something.” Alice Murphy Johnson had been friends with Rita and Anna for most of their lives. Which meant Rita Mae could tell when something was up. And this morning it had been clear that whatever was going on it wasn’t something good. “Whole thing is awful. And I can understand why Tate would be upset. But I can’t say that I’m all that surprised to hear that happened.”
Anna Mae nodded. “Tucker has had a thing for Hannah as long as I can remember.”
“I know,” Tara agreed. “I just didn’t know she felt the same way about him.”
“Don’t think she knew herself—until just recently.”
“Well, I wish they could have gone about the whole thing in a less dramatic fashion.” Tara glanced over to make sure Carol was still over by the table eating her pie. “Tate is devastated. Although I think it’s more about Tucker’s betrayal than Hannah’s, if you want to know the truth.”
“I know it hurts now, but maybe with time he’ll realize this has all been for the best. Sometimes things happen for reasons we can’t fathom at the time. But later on we realize it was a blessing not a curse.”
Tara smiled. “You sound like Bryce.”
Anna Mae snorted. “You got the preaching part right, but that’s about as far as her religious bent goes. Anyway—” She lowered her voice with a glance toward the back of the booth where her niece Mary Louise was unpacking some boxes. “I know one person who’ll be happy to hear the news.” She tipped her head in Mary Louise’s direction. “She’s had a crush on Tate ever since she came back to Storm.”
Mary Louise had come to live with her aunts when her mother ran off with her father’s best friend, and her father, Rita and Anna’s brother, didn’t have time for a kid. A musician, he spent most of his time on the road, and though he loved his daughter he wasn’t willing to give up his life for her. Which seemed to happen a lot with musicians. Rita Mae shot a look at her sister and frowned. Maybe it was something in the way they were made.