A Piece of Texas Trilogy

by Peggy Moreland

  Five

  The next day Wade was in his toolshed early, anxious to get his work done so that he could go and see Steph.

  After selecting a wrench from those hanging on the wall above his worktable, he hunkered down in front of the baler to adjust the belt’s tension. He had made only two full turns when the wrench slipped and he had to stop and swipe the perspiration from his hands—and it wasn’t the heat that had made his hands slick with sweat, although his toolshed held heat like a smokehouse. It was the thoughts of Steph that kept playing through his mind.

  Aware of the dangers involved in working on a piece of equipment and knowing how much they escalated if a man wasn’t giving his full attention to the job, he pulled the wrench free and braced it against his thigh. He still couldn’t believe they’d made love. He’d hoped they would, planned on it even, but he’d thought it would take him a lot longer to persuade her.

  He didn’t know what had changed her mind and really didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was that she’d given herself to him willingly and without any pressure from him. Not that he would have felt any compunction on applying a little, if she’d dragged her feet too much longer. From the moment he’d seen her standing in her parents’ house a week ago he’d known that his feelings for her hadn’t changed. Just looking at her had had the same debilitating effect on him that it had thirteen years before. And kissing her…well, he wouldn’t even go there, seeing as he couldn’t even hold on to a wrench, as it was.

  “Dad-dy! I’m talking to you!”

  Wade glanced over to find his daughter standing in the doorway, her hands fisted on her hips. Setting the wrench aside, he dragged a rag from his pocket to wipe his hands. “Sorry, sweet cheeks. Guess I was daydreaming. Whatcha need?”

  She pushed her hands into fists at her sides, with an impatient huff of breath. “I asked if I could spend the night with Brooke.”

  Eyeing his daughter warily, he stuffed the rag back into his pocket, wondering whether this overnight was on the up-and-up or a smoke screen she was spreading for her to do God only knew what. “Did Brooke’s mother say it was all right with her?”

  She gave him a pained look, one she’d perfected over the last year, then said through clenched teeth, “Yes. She said I could ride the bus home with Brooke after school if it’s okay with you.”

  Knowing from experience that this could all be a clever lie Meghan was weaving in order to cover her tracks, he pulled his cell from the holster at his waist. “I’ll just give Jan a call and double-check things with her.”

  “Daddy!” she cried. “I told you Mrs. Becker said it was okay!”

  He punched in the number, then looked down his nose at her as he lifted the phone to his ear. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to hear that from Jan.”

  She folded her arms across her chest and pushed her lips out in a pout. “You don’t trust me.”

  He listened through the second ring. “The last time you asked permission to go somewhere with a girlfriend, you ended up at the pizza parlor with a guy two years older than you.” When she opened her mouth to spew a comeback, he held up a hand, silencing her.

  “Jan?” he said into the receiver. “This is Wade Parker, Meghan’s dad.”

  He listened a moment, then smiled. “Doing just fine. How about yourself?”

  “That’s good,” he replied to her response that all was well in the Becker household, then scratched his head. “Listen, Jan. Meghan was telling me about her plans to spend the night with Brooke tonight, and I wanted to make sure that was all right with you before I gave her my permission.”

  He listened again, then breathed a sigh of relief at her affirmative answer. “No, riding the bus home with Brooke is fine with me,” he told her. “Will save you and me both from having to haul them around.”

  He smiled and nodded again. “Yeah, I hear you. These girls would keep us in the middle of the road if they could.” Anxious to end the call before Jan got started in on the trials and tribulations of being a single parent, he said, “I’d better go. I need to write a permission note for Meghan to give the bus driver before she leaves for school.” He nodded again. “You, too, Jan. And thanks.”

  He disconnected the call and returned his cell to its holster.

  Meghan lifted a haughty brow. “Well? Are you satisfied now?”

  Wade pulled a tablet from a slot above his worktable and scrawled a note granting his permission for Meghan to ride a different bus from school. “Better watch your mouth, young lady, or you’ll find yourself spending the night at home with me.”

  She snatched the note from his hand and spun for the house. “And wouldn’t that be fun?” she muttered under her breath.

  Wade heard the sassy comeback but chose to ignore it. He’d learned the hard way to choose his battles with his daughter, and this one wasn’t even worth the energy required for a skirmish.

  Heaving a sigh, he braced a hand on the doorjamb and watched her stalk to the house, her long blond hair swinging from side to side with each angry stride. Twelve going on twenty-two, he thought sadly. Why couldn’t kids just be satisfied with being kids? he asked himself. Why were they so hell-bent on becoming adults? Didn’t they realize that being a grown-up wasn’t all it was cracked up to be? Kids didn’t have the responsibilities and worries that adults faced every day. Hell, this was the best time of Meghan’s life! She should be enjoying herself, instead of plotting and scheming ways to do things she wasn’t allowed to do. Things that she was too young to be doing.

  He shook his head, remembering the day she’d come home sporting three holes in each ear and knowing it was too late for him to do a damn thing to stop her from doing it. And what was with this new infatuation of hers with boys two and three years older than herself?

  Snorting, he dropped his hand from the door and turned back to the baler he’d been working on. He may not know what his daughter was thinking, but he knew what was on those boys’ minds. And that was the problem. It wasn’t so long ago that he’d been a teenage boy that he couldn’t recognize a hormone-raging stud looking for a girl he could charm out of her panties when he saw one.

  He shuddered at the thought of his daughter being sexually active, then set his jaw and picked up his wrench, settling it into place over a bolt. “Not on my watch,” he muttered and gave the wrench a hard turn, tightening the bolt into place.

  Stephanie opened the door and blinked in surprise when she saw Wade standing on the stoop, his hat in his hand. “What are you doing over here at this time of day?”

  His smile sheepish, he scuffed the toe of his boot at the doormat. “I’m embarrassed to admit to being this slow, but it only just occurred to me that it’s Friday night and I’ve got nothing to do. I thought, if you weren’t busy, we might go to a movie or something.”

  Stephanie would’ve laughed if he hadn’t looked so cute standing there like a lost puppy in search of a new home. She glanced down at her bare feet and the cutoff jeans she was wearing, then at her wristwatch. Wrinkling her nose, she shifted her gaze back to his. “By the time I shower and change, whatever movie is showing would be half over.”

  He grimaced. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I should’ve called first. I started to, but I figured you wouldn’t answer the phone.”

  “I wouldn’t have.” Taking pity on him, she opened the door wide. “Tell you what. We can watch a movie here. If there’s nothing on, I’m sure I can find a video or DVD in my parents’ stash for us to watch.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked even as he stepped eagerly inside. “If you’re busy or have other plans, I can head back home. I’m sure I can find something there to do to pass the time.”

  Laughing, she closed the door behind him. “I’m not busy. In fact, I was just about to put a frozen pizza in the oven. Have you had dinner yet?”

  He placed a hand over his stomach, as if only now realizing he’d missed the meal and was hungry. “No, as a matter of fact, I haven’t.”

  S
he glanced at him over her shoulder as she led the way to kitchen. “Is pepperoni okay?”

  He tossed his hat onto the counter. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

  She stopped, balancing a pizza on the palm of one hand, the other curled around the handle of the oven door. “If you don’t like pepperoni, I can probably scrape up the makings for a sandwich.”

  Chuckling, he shook his head. “Pepperoni’s fine. In fact, that’s all I ever eat. It’s Meghan’s favorite and the only one we keep stocked in our freezer.”

  Stephanie’s smile faded.

  Wade noticed the sudden change in her expression before she turned to slide the pizza into the oven and cursed his blunder, knowing it was his mention of his daughter that had robbed her of her smile. He crossed to her and caught her hand in his. “Steph, she’s my daughter. I can’t pretend she doesn’t exist.”

  She squared her shoulders and forced a smile. “I know that. And I don’t expect you to pretend she doesn’t exist. You just—well, you caught me off guard when you mentioned her. You having a child is not something that I care to think about.”

  “But…” He stopped, knowing that anything else he said would only drag up more of the past. And he didn’t want to spoil the one evening he had with her rehashing his mistakes.

  “How about some wine?” he asked, changing the subject. “Bud usually kept a bottle or two around, if you haven’t thrown them out.”

  She stepped around him and gestured to the far cabinet as she headed for the sink. “Up there, and the opener is in—” She stopped, hauled in a breath, then continued on to the sink. “Well, I’m sure you probably know where to find the opener, the same as you do the wine, since you seem to know where everything else is kept.”

  In two long strides he was across the room and turning her around to face him. His anger melted when he saw the gleam of tears in her eyes. “Aw, Steph,” he said miserably. “I thought we’d already cleared that hurdle. Yes, I was friends with your parents. And yes, I know my way around their house probably as well as I do my own. But don’t let that come between us. We’ve got enough old baggage to sort through without having to dredge up that particular subject again.”

  When she kept her head down, refusing to look at him, he hooked a finger beneath her chin and tipped her face up to his. “Come on, Steph. I know you feel like we all conspired against you, but that wasn’t the case at all. Your parents knew that mentioning my name in any form or fashion would only upset you, so they didn’t.”

  She closed her hand over his and drew in a breath. “I know. And I’m sorry. Really. It’s just going to take time for me to get used to…well, everything. So much went on that I wasn’t aware of.” She held up a hand when he started to interrupt. “Which is my fault,” she said, saving him from having to tell her it was. Drawing his hand to hold between hers, she gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Now about that wine…”

  He dropped a kiss on her mouth. “Frozen pizza and wine. Is there something wrong with this picture?”

  “I’d say it’s right on par with every date I ever had with you.”

  “Hey!” he cried, looking insulted. “We went on a couple of real dates.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “Name one.”

  He shifted from one foot to the other, trying to think of one to offer, then gave her a sheepish look. “I guess I did kind of drop the ball in the date department.”

  Laughing, she patted his cheek. “No, you didn’t. I always enjoyed the time we spent together, no matter what we were doing.”

  Relieved that it appeared they had weathered another storm, he pulled out a drawer and drew out the wine opener. “Remember the time you sat up all night with me when my mare was foaling?”

  “Yes. That was the first equine birth I’d ever witnessed. And hopefully my last,” she added with a shudder. “That poor mare. It was hard to watch her suffer when there was nothing we could do to ease her pain.”

  “Breach births are seldom easy,” he said as he pulled the cork from the bottle with a pop. “I’ve probably lost as many babies as I’ve saved. Sometimes lost the mamas, too.”

  While he filled two wineglasses, Stephanie set the timer on the oven. “That’s the one thing I don’t miss about living on a ranch,” she said thoughtfully as she crossed to stand beside him. “Losing an animal always made me so sad.”

  “Yeah, it does me, too.” He handed her a glass, then draped an arm along her shoulders. “Want to sit on the patio while we wait for the pizza to cook?”

  “Good idea.”

  Once outside, she brushed a hand over the seats of the chairs, sweeping away the dried leaves that covered them, then sat and patted the chair next to hers. “Take a load off.”

  He nudged the chair closer to hers, then dropped down with a sigh.

  “I love this view,” she said, her smile wistful as she stared out at the pastures and the low hills beyond. “The way the sun looks at sunset, as if it’s melting into the hills.”

  He laced his fingers through hers and settled their joined hands on the arms of their pushed-together chairs. “It is pretty. I have almost this exact same view from the balcony off my bedroom.”

  Her gaze still on the setting sun, she hid a smile. “I remember both the balcony and the view.” She waited a beat, then added, “I also remember you spreading a blanket on the balcony one night and getting me drunk on tequila shots.”

  He pressed a hand against his chest. “Me?” He shook his head. “You must be mistaken. I’d never take advantage of a woman that way.”

  She bumped her shoulder against his. “Oh, please. And that wasn’t the only time you got me drunk. I distinctly remember a case of beer and an afternoon spent skinny-dipping in the creek that runs through your hay field.”

  “It was hot,” he said defensively. “And as I recall, you only had two of those beers.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “What can I say? I’m a cheap drunk.”

  Biting back a smile, he tapped his glass against hers. “Drink up, then. Maybe I’ll get lucky again tonight.”

  She drew back to look at him in surprise. “How long are you planning to stay?”

  “All night, if you’ll let me.”

  She dropped her mouth open, then slowly closed it to stare. “You mean…you can stay the whole night?”

  He took her glass and set it, along with his, on the patio. “Yep,” he said and tugged her from her chair and onto his lap. “The whole night.”

  She continued to stare, realizing the significance in that. “Do you realize this will be the first time we will have ever slept together?”

  He grasped her thigh and shifted her more comfortably on his lap. “I think you’re forgetting about the night it stormed.”

  “No. That doesn’t count because you were gone when I woke up.”

  He lifted a hand to her cheek and met her gaze squarely. “This one might not count either, because I’m not planning on either one of us getting any sleep.”

  The heat in his blue eyes burned through hers, turning her mouth to cotton and twisting her stomach into a pretzel.

  The timer on the oven went off, its loud buzz signaling the pizza was done.

  Unable to tear her gaze from his, she wet her lips. “Are you hungry?”

  He hooked a hand behind her neck and brought her face to his. “Only for you,” he said before closing his mouth over hers.

  Her breath stolen, Stephanie wrapped her arms around him and clung. She felt as if she were drowning, slipping deeper and deeper into a sea of desire, its waters at first tinted a soft, muted blue, cocooning her as she drifted down. Then the water changed, became a fiery-red tempest that churned, battering her senses. The heat it produced gathered into a tight knot in her middle, then slowly spread out to every extremity, making her skin steam and her lungs burn for air.

  “Wade,” she gasped, remembering their dinner. “The pizza.”

  He slid a hand beneath her shirt, cupping a breast, and found her m
outh again. “Let it burn.”

  Though tempted, she pushed a hand against his chest, forcing him back. “We can’t. The house could burn, too.”

  Frowning, he pulled his hand from beneath her shirt. “Okay, so we’ll take the damn thing out.” He stood, hitching her up high on his chest, and carried her back to the kitchen. “You do the honors.”

  With one hand locked around his neck to keep from falling, she plucked a mitt from the rack on the oven’s front panel, then opened the door and pulled out the pizza. Wade angled her toward the range so that she could shove the pizza onto its flat surface.

  He lifted a brow. “Satisfied?”

  Locking her hands behind his neck, she gave him a coy look. “Not yet, but I’m counting on you taking care of that little problem for me.”

  He choked on a laugh, then turned for the door, his long ground-eating stride covering the distance between the kitchen and her bedroom in record time. Once in her room, he dumped her on her bed, then dived in after her. Hooking an arm over her waist, he rolled to his back and pulled her on top of him.

  Smiling, he combed his fingers through her hair to hold it back from her face. “Now let’s see what we can do about satisfying you.”

  “Don’t you think we should get rid of some clothing first?”

  He dragged his hands down her back and pushed them beneath the waistband of her shorts. “Eventually.”

  With the cheeks of her buttocks gripped firmly within his broad hands, he lifted his head and claimed her mouth. Stephanie surrendered with a delicious shiver, willing to follow wherever he led.

  The path he chose for them was a wild one. At times treacherously steep, while at others lazy and meandering. At some point during their journey—she couldn’t remember when or how exactly—“eventually” occurred, and he peeled off their clothing, letting the pieces fall where they may. While he explored her body, she explored his, marveling at the muscles that swelled and ebbed beneath her curious palms, the thunderous beat of his heart against her lips, the soft pelt of light blond hair that shot down his middle to the darker nest between his legs.