by Stuart, Amie
One more read-through of her email and he punched in her number. He got so caught up in his nerves he almost missed her soft, husky hello when she picked up.
"Hope, it's Zack." Oh, that was brilliant. He swallowed the groan that rose up in his throat and plowed forward. "How are you? Did I wake you?"
"N-no. I was just doing some p-packing." She'd gone from husky to breathy and he didn't miss the tremor in her voice. "You did get my email...obviously, or you couldn't have called me," she added with a soft, nervous sounding chuckle.
He took the fact she could laugh at herself as a good sign and forced himself to relax, easing back in the chair. "Yeah, I did."
"Is there a problem? Is this a bad time for me to come?"
"No, baby, everything's...guess I shouldn't have called you baby—"
"I-it's okay. You can, um, if you want."
"Good." Zack breathed a quiet sigh of relief and headed to the kitchen for a drink. "Everything's fine. There's a hotel not too far from my aunt's dancehall. I'll give 'em a call in the morning. Do you need me to pick you up from the airport?"
"I hate being stranded without wheels so I rented a car, but thanks."
"Well, then, I could meet you at the hotel tomorrow and we could have a late lunch, if you don't think you'll be too tired."
"That would be wonderful." If anything, her voice dipped lower, got a little rougher, and Zack swore he heard her sniffle.
"Baby, are you okay?" He slowly sank into a kitchen chair and waited for her response.
That resulted in a nice, long, obvious "I-can't-stop-crying-but-I'm trying" sniff. Then he listened to her struggle for air—and control.
"I had a bad day," was followed by another long sniff.
Bad days he could definitely empathize with. "Wanna talk about it?"
After a few more long sobs she finally worked out a response, "I got f-f-f-fired!"
He breathed a sigh of relief and slumped lower at the kitchen table, then spent five minutes gently coaxing her off the ceiling. "So that's what prompted this trip?"
"Are you mad?" she asked, her voice still a bit watery.
"How can I be mad? You know, you were so iffy about visiting before that maybe, this is some sort of cosmic nudge to get you here. Now I get to find out if my sketches and watercolors did you justice. And I get the opportunity to paint you. You are going to model for me, aren't you?"
"Watercolors?"
"Yeah," he softly confessed. "I painted you from the photo you sent."
"I hate that picture," she grumbled weakly.
"I don't." He smiled softly to himself in the darkened kitchen, convinced that Hope was coming because she was supposed to be here with them—him and Travis—and everything would be fine. They talked a while longer, firming up plans to meet, and he got her reassurance that she'd call if anything happened or she couldn't find her hotel. Or she changed her mind went unsaid.
After Zack hung up, he sat back with the phone resting on a jean-clad thigh, a stupid grin on his face and a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. Shaking it off, he washed up the last of the dinner dishes, still distracted by their conversation and her impending visit. And of course, how he was going to deal with his family. At best, he could keep her presence in Bluebonnet a secret for a day.
While he worked he tried to visualize the painting that had been nagging at him for months. Something with her piercing blue eyes against a stark background. Maybe a fringe of that long dark hair as a sort of border. He'd even dreamed of painting her nude, though he'd probably never have the nerve to ask.
The front door opened and closed, scattering his wandering thoughts and the uncomfortable tightening of his jeans. "Who's there?"
"It's me." Tim entered the kitchen and helped himself to a beer, then sat at the table. Judging from the sharply creased jeans, a pressed shirt and the smell of aftershave, he'd been out on a date.
"You could have gotten me one." Zack pointed at his brother's bottle.
"You know where the fridge is." Tim popped the cap off and threw it at him. He caught it and turned, tossing it in the trash.
"You're out late. Have a date?" He dried his hands and got himself a beer, wondering what had brought his brother for a visit. Tim didn't stop by without a reason.
Tim's affirmation didn't hold any excitement.
"How'd it go?"
"I dunno." Tim winced and sipped his beer.
Zack slowly sank back in his seat and studied his brother. Tim's quick wit, easy smile and good looks had made him a female favorite since his first growth spurt. But he never got serious with women. Not after his divorce. And he wouldn't keep one around if she couldn't follow his rules: Keep it light, keep it fun and don't get serious.
"So, who was it this time?"
"Brenda Sue."
"Again?" Zack asked with a surprised frown. "You can do so much better than that." At twenty-three, Brenda Sue Moore looked like the poster child for white trash, complete with a bad reputation and two divorces under her belt.
Unfortunately for Tim, it seemed like the only women willing to play the game Tim's way were either ones like her or the more mercenary kind who were hell bent on snaring a rich rancher by whatever means necessary. Thanks to Rene they didn't usually last long.
Tim sighed but remained quiet, sipping his beer. The sound of the front door opening announced a new arrival. That had to be Ty.
"Why did I go out with her?" Tim murmured as Ty stepped into the kitchen.
"Only you can answer that, brother," Ty quipped, slapping him on the shoulder as he passed by and grabbed a beer from the fridge. "I warned you."
"What am I doing wrong?" Tim took another pull from the bottle, as if trying to wash the memory of Brenda Sue away.
"Dating trashy women, for one thing. Play with fire, pee the bed." Zack sat back with a smirk and turned to Ty who now sat on his other side. "How you doin'?"
Ty gave him a nod and a smile and they clinked bottles, but Zack didn't miss the deep shadows under his brother's eyes. He assumed Tim had talked to Ty but it apparently hadn't done any good.
"Great analogy, Zack, thanks. I appreciate that. You know what—" He sat up a little straighter and used his bottle as a pointer, "—all those church girls Momma pushes at me are just like Brenda Sue. I don't care if they do go to church and 'don't put out', which is a joke because they all put out eventually, and I don't care if they dress better than Brenda Sue, they ain't no different.No wonder you won't date any of the women around here." He gave Zack a long steady look, then added, "But I'm not sure gettin' cozy with my hand is in my future."
Ty spewed beer and practically disappeared under the table, doubled over with laughter. Zack dropped his head on his arm and laughed as quietly as he could. Someone finally got it. "You're an ass," he countered with a wry smile.
"All I want is a nice woman to fool around with," Tim said with a low chuckle of his own.
Zack wiped his eyes and took a sip of his beer. Then blurted out, "I met someone."
At the expressions on his brothers' faces, he immediately wished he hadn't, but as hilarious as the ribbing sometimes was, it got old.
"You?" That one small word coupled with Tim's raised eyebrows spoke volumes. Zack didn't miss the skeptical look Tim gave Ty or Ty's raised eyebrow. They didn't believe him.
Fine.
"Me! She'll be here Wednesday."
"Wait a minute. Wait a minute." Tim sat back with a frown. "You met a woman? She'll be here Wednesday? What did you do, hire a housekeeper?"
That set Ty to laughing all over again.
Once his brother calmed down, Zack continued, "You know, the last local girl I dated wanted to move in after three dates?" There was more to it than that but he didn't feel like getting into nitty-gritty details with his brothers. "And the one before that only liked her own kids. I'm not saying they're all bad but that's why I haven't been on a date in a year. And can you blame me?"
"Zack?" Ty gave him a worried look. "Wh
at did you do?"
"I placed a personal ad on the internet. I met a woman, back in January and we've been talking. She'll be here Wednesday." He'd expected more laughter. Instead, Tim and Ty sat on either side of him, frowning at each other and him.
"Is she Russian?" Tim finally asked, then lost it, ducking his head and laughing like there was no tomorrow.
If they woke up Travis, Zack would have grounds for justifiable homicide.
He groaned and slumped in his seat, preparing for the worst. He should have kept his mouth shut; he should have waited until she got here. They were going to give him hell. "No, she's from Utah."
Ty let out his own loud snort of laughter, tipping his bottle in Tim's direction. "She's a Mormon and she's bringing her sister." That earned him a high five from Tim.
Here we go.
"She never said she was a Mormon, now keep it down." He really should have kept his mouth shut and stashed Hope in San Antonio.
"So, what exactly did you write?" Tim asked. "And how many responses did you get? How come you didn't tell us before? Maybe I could meet a woman like that?"
"I want a nice girl who can cook," Ty drawled, laughing into his beer bottle.
"This?! This is why I didn't tell you, and fifty-eight," Zack announced from between stiff lips.
"Holy hell!" That caused Tim to blink. "What the fuck did you write? That you were a millionaire?"
His grip tightened on the bottle as he took a deep breath and tried to chose his words as carefully as possible. "I just...asked for a woman who wanted a long term relationship. Someone old-fashioned."
"Old-fashioned?" Tim quirked an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair. "Fifty-eight old-fashioned women responded and you just, what? Chose one?"
"What the hell is old-fashioned…exactly?" Ty challenged, one eyebrow arched.
Zack looked back and forth from one brother to the other, debating which of them to kill first. It was always those two against everyone else, always had been, always would be, but if he could handle them, he could handle his dad and eventually, hopefully, his mom.
"For starters, Tim, a girl with morals." He didn't bother to smother his smile at scoring a direct hit.
"By damn, I think he got you there, Tim."
"Knowing your lame ass, Oak, you asked for a virgin so she wouldn't know what a bad lay you are."
Zack pinched his nose to prevent his own snort of laughter from escaping then sipped his beer to buy himself some time to form a response. God help him, his brother had no idea how close to the truth he was on the virgin thing—just not the why. Zack knew his way around a bedroom just fine.
"Aw now that's not nice, callin' Oak a bad lay."
"I've heard things."
Zack's head snapped up at that announcement, all his good-humored laughter gone. "You didn't hear shit! Now you know why I didn't tell you sooner."
"Tim, you're so full of it." Ty threw his bottle cap at Tim and missed. It slid off the table and hit the tile floor with a ping. "You don't have any dirt on Mr. Perfect here."
Mr. Perfect? "Why the hell would you—"
"You know it's not easy to find dirt on Oak, since he keeps to himself so much. He'd rather jack off than have a real woman."
"I'd rather not have my dick fall off, thank you." He stood up to throw his beer bottle away, ready to run his brothers off. "Now if you don't mind—"
"Christy Fletcher. Ring any bells, Zack."
He forced himself to keep moving, keep breathing and not give anything away. "We dated. So what?"
"Quit being such a tease," Ty whined.
"Bet that's the first time anyone's ever called you a tease," Zack shot over his shoulder.
"I heard Oak has control issues. I think that's how she put it. Said he was real bossy, likes to be in charge, and wanted to tie her up. Probably so she couldn't get away."
"Get out!" Zack turned and crossed the kitchen to stand behind his chair. Only the possibility of waking up Travis kept him from hollering.
"Not so fun when it's you, is it?"
"It's always me, Tim, always! I'm not perfect; I have morals, and I'm tired of you two ganging on up on me." He moved to stand in front of Tim. "And for the record, I never tried to tie Christy up." They'd just discussed sexual fantasies. She hadn't been thrilled with his and three days later she'd broken it off with him. God, it was probably all over town.
"Oh come on," Ty begged, "I wanna hear about your Mormon."
"She's not a Mormon; now get out! I'm done with you two jokers."
"Okay, so she lives in Utah. What else? Is she cute?" Ty asked, looking genuinely interested.
"Yeah," Zack grudgingly replied, easing back down into his chair and ignoring Tim.
"How do you know?" Tim asked from between lips that twitched with suppressed humor.
"Because she sent me a picture, wise ass."
"How do you know it's really her?" Tim countered while Ty butted in, wanting a description. They were making him dizzy.
"She's short and she has long, dark hair and big blue eyes, a crooked little nose and straight teeth," he said defensively, not bothering to add how sexy she was. "And I'm positive it's her. If it wasn't, her nose wouldn't be crooked," he added, pointing to his own.
"Hmmpf," was Tim's only reply. "So, she's coming here to mooch off you?"
"No!" He didn't miss the suspicion in his brother's eyes. He knew he spent too much time in his studio. It was the nature of the beast. But he wasn't naive.
"So," Ty interrupted, "how do you know she's not married and ditching a family to come see you?"
Zack glanced over at Tim, then wished he hadn't caught his brother's scowl.
"I don't." But he hated liars as much as the next person. And so far, the only topic she seemed to shy away from was her family. He could respect that. "But she's not lying, she's not married and has no kids. She's an accountant for Christ sake."
"Momma is gonna have a fit," Ty said, eyebrows raised.
"I know. So don't say anything, okay?"
Tim sat rubbing his goatee, a sure sigh of heavy thinking. "Look, I ain't trying to bust your chops, but there are woman out there that'll do anything to get a man. Especially one with a little money in his pocket."
"I'm not the one who went out with Brenda Sue Moore, Tim, and I'm not near as dumb as you think I am."
"Does she know you're fat?" Ty teased.
"Fuck you!"
Chapter Seven
Jessa
After oversleeping, I'd still managed to meet my cab and be at the airport on time. I needed a day in Salt Lake to shop for some non-western, girly stuff, but Zack hadn't needed to know that. Wednesday morning I'd fly on to San Antonio.
I hated myself for lying to Zack yet again. He'd been so nice when I'd gotten upset that I'd had to scramble for an excuse. Getting fired was as close as I could come to the truth. I'd probably go to hell for all my lies, lies I'd have to straighten out—preferably sooner rather than later. I could only hope that he'd understand that I'd wanted someone who wanted me for me, not my name or my fame or my gold buckles.
I was missing my last week of therapy. I suppose that would only get me to hell that much faster. But what the hell was I supposed to do? Sit in my house and rot?
I shopped at a strip center near my hotel that included a bunch of clothing stores and a Bath and Body Works, where only the logistical nightmare of carrying a suitcase full of bubble bath and lotion halfway across the country stopped me from buying out the whole store.
And I discovered something new about myself. I love to shop. I'd just never really had the time to indulge myself before. It felt funny doing what I wanted without worrying who might see me and give me hell about it.
Habit had me wandering into A. A. Callisters—like I needed more western clothes. I left empty-handed after spotting one of my Revolution Jeans posters on the wall. You could see my nipples, for crying out loud! I looked as if my face would crack if I smiled—what you could see of my face under
the too-large hat. I'd forgotten how much I hated those posters.
I pushed thoughts of my former career out of my mind and focused on the matter at hand. Shopping.
A trip through the Disney store cheered me up immensely. Only hunger got me out of there and away from all the Toy Story paraphernalia. "Howdy, howdy, howdy," I'd chuckled to myself as I stood at the cash register paying for my purchases. Apparently the clerks were used to adults who regressed, because no one batted an eye.
On my way back to the hotel I picked up dinner, planning for a quiet evening with the TV—or the stunner as my friend Anna called it. Halfway through dinner Jace called.
"Where are you at?" he demanded over what sounded like wind whistling through his truck.
"Salt Lake City, why? Where are you?"
"At your house! What the hell are you doing in Salt Lake? They called me 'cause you missed physical therapy and no one could reach you. Damnit, Jessalyn!"
"Don't talk to me like I've got no sense!" I threw myself against the bed pillows, scrambling to get my thoughts in order.
"Well, sometimes I wonder!"
Despite my irritation with him, I couldn't ignore the concern in his voice. "I needed a break...I found the letter," I softly added. There was no need to tell him who or what the letter said. He'd obviously read it. And it wasn't the only one I'd gotten since December.
Just the last.
The silence on the other end of the phone spoke volumes but didn't answer the question of why he'd thrown it away. "I'm sorry—" for everything was implied. "I'll be fine, just...go rodeo."
I nearly gagged on the "R" word.
"I'm sorry, Jessa," was followed by a heavy sigh. "You just scared me. Are you okay?" he asked, his voice quietly sympathetic.
"I will be as soon as you quit babying me."
"Fine. Just please take care of yourself. I'll crash here tonight, then head back out. If you wanna come keep me company, I'll be leaving about six tomorrow morning."
"There is no way in hell I'm meeting you at the crack of dawn's ass." I laughed.
Or going out on the circuit with him, for heaven's sake. That would be pathetic.