When he pulled up to the house and climbed out of his truck, the ground was already covered with a thin layer of ice. Even with his heavy-duty boots, he had to move carefully to keep from wiping out on the short walk to the back door.
Once inside, he stomped his boots on the mat and hung up his coat and hat before trekking through the house to find Mom and Morgan. Feminine laughter drifted from the living room, and he followed the sound until he found them on the sofa, each with a mug of hot chocolate in hand. He would’ve expected no less from his mother.
When he stepped into the room, Mom hopped up from her seat and trotted toward the kitchen. “You must be frozen solid. Let me make you some cocoa.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Hot anything sounded great right now. He slid into the wingback chair perpendicular to the couch, the seat nearest to Morgan. “Sorry, got here as quick as I could.”
“I’ve enjoyed getting to know your mom.” She glanced around the room. “This house is great. Did you grow up here?”
Something about Morgan seemed softer than the last time he’d seen her. More open. Slater liked it. “Except for the few years I was away at college, I’ve been here my whole life.”
“Couldn’t tear yourself away, huh? You must really love it.”
He heard the deeper, unspoken questions beneath her words. Saw them in her eyes. Why are you still living at home? Couldn’t make it on your own? Maybe he was misreading her, but those were the things he’d wonder about if he were in her shoes. He didn’t need to defend his situation, though. He knew he was where he should be. “I do love it. Can’t imagine myself anywhere else.”
A flicker of something passed behind her eyes, but he couldn’t decipher it.
“I thought you wanted to be some big football star?” There was no censure in her tone, just sincere curiosity. “What happened to that?”
His dream of playing in the NFL was so distant it seemed like an alternate reality. “It didn’t work out.” He didn’t care to talk about it, but it usually wasn’t up to him. “I’m sure that will be one of the hot topics at the reunion. Our fellow Rossites still aren’t over it.”
“So you’re going to the reunion?”
“I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t.”
Their gazes held for the briefest of moments, and he felt…connected. He sensed they somehow understood one another. His mom had been right, Morgan really was lovely—inside and out. Why hadn’t some guy already put a ring on her finger? “How about you? Are you going?”
She gave a self-effacing smile. “Reunion committee members don’t have much choice.”
He knew it was a long shot, but he took it anyway. “Maybe we should go together.”
Her vulnerability vanished like the foggy vapor he’d exhaled in the cold. “Oh, no. I’ve already promised...” She looked away, breaking their connection, and reached for the folder on the coffee table in front of her. The intimacy disappeared from her voice, replaced by cool professionalism. “The pantry space at the Community Center—”
“Whoa, back up. You already have a date?” He didn’t know why it bothered him so much.
“Why wouldn’t I have a date?” She was defensive. “Why are you so surprised?”
Not surprised so much as crestfallen. “I just…” He searched for a decent answer. “I thought I would’ve heard about it, that’s all. So who is it?”
“None of your business.”
“Why so mysterious? C’mon, tell me.”
She glanced away. “Just drop it,” she mumbled.
Something wasn’t adding up here. “You don’t really have a date, do you?”
“I will have one.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “I just haven’t decided exactly who.” She opened her folder and pulled out the paperwork. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Every time I open my mouth, I’m afraid I’ve given you something new to use against me, so just sign the papers.” She slid the documents across the tabletop to him.
Slater ignored the paperwork and kept his gaze pinned on her. “What do you mean, something to use against you?”
“Exactly that. Some piece of information that’ll help you pull off your next prank or scheme, in which I end up completely humiliated.”
“Why would I do that?” He wanted her forgiveness, her friendship.
Though it was unspoken, she leveled him with a look that clearly said, What part of this do you not understand?
Wow, she really didn’t trust him. He knew he’d messed up, but he hadn’t known how deeply he’d wounded her until now. He hated himself for it.
She didn’t give him the chance to respond. “Like I said, the pantry space met all the requirements. We just need your signature in a couple of places, and then we can move to the next phase.”
“Right.” He gave himself a mental shake, took the pen she offered, and with still numb fingers, scrawled his name on the lines she indicated. When he was finished, he returned the pen to her. “And now you should get out of here before the weather gets any worse.”
As if to punctuate his point, the wind howled, rattling the shutters and pummeling the house with sleet. With gusts like that, he’d be replacing several shingles on the roof and multiple sections of downed fence tomorrow. Hopefully they wouldn’t lose any trees this time.
“Oh, I wish you’d just stay,” Mom said as she reappeared from the kitchen. She positioned a coaster on the end table and placed Slater’s mug on it. “I hate the thought of you driving on icy roads. We’ve got plenty of room, and”—her tone turned singsongy—“I’m making fried chicken for supper.”
Morgan’s eyes widened for an instant. “Oh, I couldn’t.”
“Of course you could,” Mom said. “It’d be so fun!”
“I’m sure Morgan needs to get home.” Slater could only imagine how the suggestion sounded to Morgan, especially in light of the conversation they’d just had, but that was simply how his mom was. She’d extend the same invitation to anyone, whether they lived five minutes away or five hours. She’d always loved having guests, even more so since Dad’s death.
“Thank you for the invitation, but I really should get back.” Morgan slipped the documents into the folder and stood.
“All right, get on out of here then,” Mom said. “Just remember, it’s a standing offer.” Mom ushered Morgan toward the front door. “Slater, honey, make sure she gets to the highway safely.”
He’d already planned to. He couldn’t explain it, but a sudden need to protect her engulfed him. He might follow her all the way to the city just to be sure she made it okay.
While Morgan bundled into her coat and gloves, Slater grabbed his coat and hat from the hook by the back door. When he returned and pulled the door open, the wind blasted him, threatening to fling his hat from his head. He grabbed the brim and shoved it down as he allowed Morgan to go ahead of him onto the porch. “Careful now. Those steps are already slick.”
“I got it.”
He pulled the door closed and followed her, both of them death-gripping the railing and stepping gingerly down each stair. They made it to ground level and trudged into the blowing sleet toward Morgan’s car, but two steps out, she slipped.
“Whoa!” Instinctively, he reached for her. Grabbing her elbow, he tried to steady her, but his boots may as well have been skates. He slipped, too, grunts emerging from his throat as both feet flailed. He fought hard to stay upright, but with both of them sliding, it was a losing battle. At some point, she’d gripped his arm with both hands, so when she went down, he went right along with her. It seemed to happen in slow motion. There was a wild, out-of-control look in her eyes. His backside made contact with the earth first, and she landed on top of him, sending him flat to his back with an Ooof!
With his hat knocked from his head, the rain and sleet pounded his face. She lay sprawled over him, contorted, her elbow jabbing him in the neck.
“Everything still intact?” he asked.
“Everything but my pride.”
Laughter bubbled up in his chest and he couldn’t hold it in, and soon her laughter mingled with his, the melodic sound dancing across his senses. For the first time, it seemed her guard was completely down. Never mind the charcoal sky spitting frozen rain. For all the joy she stirred in him, he may as well have been basking in the summer sun.
When their laughter faded, Slater grabbed his hat, and they both carefully pushed to their feet and skated the remaining few yards to her car.
Once she was in, he shuffled to his truck, his mind made up. There were a hundred places between here and the city where she could slide right off the road and no one would know until she froze to death. He was following her home, no question. He’d call Mom from the road and let her know.
Morgan pulled forward, made a wide circle in the grass, and headed slowly down the long driveway. He followed in his truck at a crawl. Ice crunched beneath his tires, creating a cacophony with the high-speed swish of the windshield wipers.
The trip to the main road usually took two and a half minutes, but now it took three times as long. Visibility was awful. Slater couldn’t see more than ten feet ahead, but when they were almost to the gate, he could tell the shadows on the road didn’t look right.
Morgan’s car stopped.
He threw his truck in park and climbed out, creeping up to her car. He saw the problem as soon as he reached her window. One of the old oak trees that lined the driveway had fallen across the path, blocking them in. It was a giant. One that would require chainsaws and more than one pair of hands to move.
Morgan wasn’t going anywhere.
The ice battered him and the wind blew clear through to his bones, so he moved as quickly as possible to the passenger side of Morgan’s car and climbed in. The burst of heat felt like an oasis, and he ran his hand down his face to wipe off the sleet.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to stay dry. I’d rather not stand out in the storm while you argue with me about going back to the house.”
Her face fell. “What? I can’t go back to the house. I have to get home.”
He chuckled. “Did I call that one, or what? I knew you’d put up a fuss.” He nodded to the tree lying across the road. “There’s no way to clear the driveway right now. We’re blocked in.”
“Isn’t there another way out?” Her voice sounded frantic. “A back road or something?”
“This is it.”
She groaned, propped her elbow on the armrest, and dropped her head into her hand. “I can’t be stuck out here. There has to be something we can do.”
“If there were, I’d be happy to do it, but there’s not. At least, not until the rain and sleet let up. Sorry.”
He watched her have a mini-freak-out. She sighed. Kneaded her hands together. Mumbled, “I can’t stay here.”
“Look, I know it’s not your favorite thing to be trapped, but I promise I’ll get you out of here as soon as is humanly possible. Besides, my mom makes the best fried chicken this side of the Arkansas River. It won’t be so bad.”
She didn’t respond.
“We’ll have to back up for a hundred yards or so, but just north of the tree line, there’s a place to turn around. You can follow me back to the house.”
He didn’t wait for her to argue further. He made his way back to his truck and led her up the driveway in reverse.
Upset as she was, Slater couldn’t muster up any sadness about her being stuck there.
Maybe if they spent a little more time together, he could convince her that he’d never hurt her again. He wanted her to trust him. If not implicitly, then at least enough to have a simple conversation.
A night at the ranch might be just the breakthrough he needed.
5
Morgan was suffocating. She stood at the window in the Hensleys’ guest room, pleading with God to somehow get her out of there. Time travel…alien abduction…anything would do. She could not spend the night at Slater Hensley’s house.
She knew Slater couldn’t have caused the storm—clever prankster as he was, even he couldn’t control the weather—but somehow she still felt like she was being played. What she’d said to him was true—that’s how she always felt around him. No matter what he was doing or saying, no matter how good it sounded, she couldn’t get past the feeling that she was the butt of the joke. He always had that look in his eye like he was up to no good. When she’d followed him back to the house, he’d looked so smug. Well, he looked like he was trying to cover his smugness by not looking smug, which was just as bad. She had no idea what he thought he could accomplish while they were cooped up in the house together, but whatever it was, he could forget it. They weren’t going to bond all evening and turn out to be best friends by morning. She’d be civil, of course, especially since his mom was so kind, but that was it. As soon as it was possible to get back to Oklahoma City, Morgan would be out of here. Even if the drive was treacherous and it took all day.
Bonnie stepped into the bedroom, her arms full of fleecy garments. "I dug up some extra jammies for you. They may be a little baggy, but they'll be comfy and warm." She laid the clothes on the bed and bustled around the room chattering about where Morgan could find towels and extra blankets and toiletries. “I know it's probably not your favorite thing, but I'm just thrilled to have you with us for the night." She clasped her hands beneath her chin and gave Morgan the warmest smile, which Morgan couldn't help but return.
“Thanks so much for letting me stay, especially on such short notice."
“Oh goodness, it’s my pleasure. Now, you just make yourself at home for a bit, and I'll go get dinner going.”
Bonnie was the sweetest woman Morgan had ever met, but apparently her apple had fallen an extreme distance from the tree, because as far as Morgan could tell, Slater was nothing like his mother.
Morgan explored her room for a few more minutes, taking in the family photos that were on display and inspecting the intricately designed quilt on the bed. There was a stark blank space above the headboard, though. A landscape image of the beautiful ranch property bloomed in Morgan’s mind. An oversized painting would be just the thing to fill out that wall and tie the room together.
For the first time in a very long while, Morgan had the urge to put brush to canvas. Strange that inspiration would choose this place and time to strike. Even so, it felt amazing. Life-giving. She made a mental note to create something for Bonnie as a thank-you for her hospitality.
After she’d wandered around the room several times, she decided she couldn’t stay cooped up in there all evening, so she headed down the hall to the family room. A delicious aroma wafted from the kitchen, along with the sound of voices.
She peeked around the doorway. Bonnie chopped potatoes on a cutting board and Slater poked at something in a deep skillet on the stovetop. He’d shed his heavy coat and now had his chambray shirt unbuttoned to reveal a gray T-shirt underneath. His sleeves were rolled up to just below his elbows, and he’d traded his cowboy hat for a trucker cap that was blue on the front with white mesh in back. She didn’t want to admit it, because he was a jerk, but the guy was handsome.
As the mother-son team worked, they playfully bantered with each other. Neither noticed Morgan.
She stepped into the kitchen. “It smells delicious in here. You need any help?”
Bonnie turned and smiled. “Heavens no. You’re our guest.”
“It’s the least I can do for you putting me up for the night. Really, I’d love to help. Put me to work.”
“Well, in that case…” Bonnie wiped her hands on a dishtowel and pointed to the cutting board. “You can finish chopping these potatoes, and I’ll get the biscuits made.”
Morgan took over at the cutting board, now close enough to see that Slater was frying chicken in the skillet.
He gave her a side glance. “Don’t mess those up. We can’t have fried chicken without good mashed potatoes.”
Her first instinct was to stick her tongue out at him, but she re
frained and ignored him instead. What was it about him that made her want to act like a first grader?
“Don’t let him bully you, darlin’.” His mom chuckled. “He’s the one we need to worry about. Last time he fried chicken, we ended up with the whole volunteer fire department out here.”
Slater looked over his shoulder and gave his mom a look of mock indignation. “It was one time, and I still say it wasn’t my fault. The heating element malfunctioned and made the oil too hot.”
Bonnie whipped her dishtowel at him. “Mmhmm. Blame it on the appliances.” She winked at Morgan, then stage-whispered, “It was operator error, and we all know it.”
Morgan grinned, enjoying the fact that Slater’s own mother was giving him a hard time. He dished out plenty, so she was glad to see him take a little.
“Mom,” Slater said with a tone of mock warning. “You’d better watch it. I have plenty of dirt on you, so unless you want me sharing all your embarrassing secrets with our lovely guest, you might want to stop talking.”
What kind of dirt could Slater possibly have on his sweet mother? Morgan couldn’t imagine the woman doing anything embarrassing, unlike her own mom, who’d spent the better part of Morgan’s childhood inebriated and creating embarrassing situations.
“You don’t have nothin’ on me, boy.” Bonnie shook a finger at him. “Don’t you sass me, and don’t you burn our dinner.”
They kept up the banter as they all worked together to finish the meal, and then the three of them sat at the dark-stained wood table. For a few moments, there was a lovely symphony of sounds as they reached this way and that, grabbing and passing dishes and piling their plates full of food. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, and buttery biscuits. It was the best meal anyone had made for Morgan in…well, maybe forever. Morgan had never had this kind of meal with her mom growing up—not the food, not the company—and she very much liked the way it made her feel. Connected. Like she was part of a real family.
Matched Online: Anthology Bks 1-4 (Contemporary Romance) Page 17