“Yeah, right. Now I’ll probably have to sell it and take a loss. It’s a little big for a bachelor.”
“What a shame.” She gazed at the house wistfully. “It might not come on the market again for twenty or thirty years.” Though it was unlikely she’d have the money to buy it then, either. Not that she’d ever want to leave the farm. But having a house this nice was a whole different matter.
And then it struck her that Garrett had really intended to live here with his bride—a bride who’d run off with Charity’s brother.
“I’m so sorry, Garrett. All your plans... You must be heartbroken about losing Hailey.”
He leaned back against the front tractor wheel, looking incongruous in Bud’s shirt and his own tuxedo pants as he gazed toward the house. “Strangely, no. Maybe our parents pushed too hard, and we both gave in too easily. We went along with what everybody expected us to do.” He shoved away from the tractor and headed toward the walkway. “Or maybe I’m not capable of love at all, and she was smart enough to figure that out before it was too late.”
A band squeezed tight around Charity’s heart at his admission. What a terrible thing for a man to think about himself. Of course Garrett was capable of love.
A long time ago, Charity had seen the depth of Garrett’s compassion. She’d been in junior high school, awkward and gangly, the victim of taunts from children who thought a “pig farmer” was something dirty. Usually their words didn’t hurt her, but on that particular day they’d been so cruel, she’d been brought to tears.
Passing by, Garrett had intervened. He’d shown a kindness that surpassed most of the men she’d known since, a kind of love for the underdog that spoke volumes about what was in a man’s heart.
She suspected it was at that precise moment she had first fallen in love with Garrett Keeley. And doubted he would even remember the incident.
“Come on, you two,” Garrett called. “I’ll give you the grand tour and then take you home. In my car. Bud can come get the tractor whenever he’s so inclined.”
She ought to turn down his invitation, get on the tractor and head for home. She was perfectly capable of driving the tractor herself. But her curiosity got the better of her. A few minutes in the house she’d admired for so many years could hardly matter. It wouldn’t hurt to look inside.
It was all she had imagined, and less.
The stairway to the second floor curved as beautifully as any sculpture she’d ever seen; the mahogany banister gleamed. The hardwood floors shone with a high gloss. But the downstairs rooms were mostly empty with only scattered pieces of furniture and musty-looking books with titles like The Revolutionary War in Perspective stashed in one corner.
“I was going to leave the decorating up to Hailey,” Garrett explained. “Guess she found something else to do with her time.”
Charity chuckled wryly. “I know I’m just his sister, but it’s hard to believe Bud has that much appeal. I’d give my eyeteeth to furnish a house like this.” She strolled across the living room, mentally positioning couches and wing-back chairs near the fireplace, placing a filigreed secretary desk near the windows that looked outside, bookcases on the opposite wall. It would cost a fortune to furnish—
“The old couple I bought the house from moved into an upscale retirement home in Modesto. They took some of the furniture with them, and some of the really nice pieces they gave to their kids. Fortunately most of the bedrooms are still habitable.”
The bedrooms. She glanced up the stairs. Yes, with Garrett, having the bedrooms furnished would be important—and something Charity shouldn’t be thinking about. And her heart shouldn’t have stuttered at the mere mention of the word. Sophisticated, she wasn’t.
Donnie, who’d gone wandering off on his own, came thundering into the room, his shoes like bullets on the hardwood floors.
“Mom, ya gotta come see! Garrett’s got a whole mess of exercise stuff. Barbells and bicycles and stuff. There’s even a swimmin’ pool. Come see!”
She raised her eyebrows. “An indoor pool?”
“Not quite. A Jacuzzi. Old jocks need all the help they can get with their sore muscles.”
“You’re not so old.” About twenty-nine or thirty, she thought, four years her senior.
“My knees are,” he said wryly. “According to the NFL doctors, at any rate.”
She realized he hated losing his job as a quarterback but she didn’t know what to say. The fact was, she’d just as soon he was never sacked again. To watch him go down under a thousand pounds of charging linemen hurt her too much.
They toured the downstairs, including an exercise room and a kitchen that was as modem as any a gourmet chef would dream about, and then they went upstairs. Their voices echoed in the hallway.
“You have enough room here to house an army,” Charity commented. “Hailey must have been planning on a big family.”
“We never talked about kids.”
Her head snapped up, and she came to an abrupt halt. “Don’t you want children?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I’d be all that good a dad.”
“How can you say that? You’re wonderful with Donnie.”
“That’s in the short haul. For the long term, I’m not sure I had a real good role model.”
“But you love your father.”
“I feel an obligation to my dad, a sense of duty. But I was never quite able to live up to his expectations. I wouldn’t want a son of my own to feel that way.”
“I guess you’ll have to break the news to your parents that you didn’t elope after all.”
“I’m not looking forward to it.”
Unable to resist, she reached out to him. They were standing in the hallway, facing each other, and her hand rested on his chest, his heart beating beneath her palm. So solid. So strong. That he would doubt himself for even a moment tore at Charity’s heart and constricted her throat.
“You would be the most wonderful father in the world,” she whispered. And lover, too.
“You’d think that, cinnamon girl.” His voice husky, he covered her hand with his. “Nice to have somebody on my side.”
“Always.”
Her heart beat harder. She could barely draw a breath. The air crackled with electricity as though a storm were about to hit. The green in his eyes nearly vanished into a dark pool of black. Charity wavered, her knees weak, and she leaned toward him.
“Mom! You gotta see this bed! It’s huuuge!”
Charity jumped back like she’d been shot. This was not a good time to be thinking about beds—particularly Garrett’s. The bed he’d intended to share with his bride.
“I think we’d better be going,” she said. She pulled her braid around to the front of her shoulder, fiddling nervously with loose strands.
He studied her a moment before he said, “I’ll get my car keys.”
“No! I, ah, might need the tractor before Bud gets home. And my car is still out of whack,” she reminded him. “Thanks to my thoughtful brother.”
His forehead pleated. “You sure you can drive it okay?”
“I’ve been doing it since I was Donnie’s age, Garrett. That’s what farm kids do.”
As though he was unwilling to let her go and wanted to keep her talking, he asked, “How old is Donnie?”
She backed up another step, more intent on escape than his question. Her palm was still tingling with the heat of his body; she had to get away. She had to stop wanting things that couldn’t be. “He turned seven in May. They grow up so fast, it’s hard to believe he’ll be in second grade this fall.”
“I imagine that’s true.”
“Donnie!” she called. “Time to go, honey.”
“Aw, Mom...” He appeared at the doorway to the master bedroom. “Can’t we—?”
“No, we can’t.”
He jammed his hands into his jeans pockets, then looked up hopefully at Garrett. “If you come visit again, I’ll show you where some ducks lay their eggs. There’s
always broken shells and stuff from the foxes eatin’ ’em.”
Hooking his hand around the boy’s neck, Garrett smiled. “Sounds like a chance I couldn’t pass up. If your mom wouldn’t mind me dropping by sometime.”
“Of course not,” she said quickly. Too quickly. Her son was so taken with Garnett, she was afraid of what might happen if Garrett didn’t keep his promise. Or if he did, and realized it was his own son he was visiting.
Garrett went downstairs with Charity and the boy and walked with them out to the tractor. The street was quiet; no kids were playing in the staid, wellkept yards. No one had organized a street baseball game or chalked off yard markers for football. Probably finding broken duck eggs would be more fun for a kid than living here.
He watched as she climbed into the driver’s seat and settled Donnie in front of her.
“If the highway patrol gives me a ticket,” she said, teasing, “I’ll tell them to forward it to Grazer High’s most famous alum.”
“Sounds fair enough to me. Didn’t we have some grad who got sent to jail for murdering—?”
“Oh, you...” Waving him off, she laughed. The sound was as musical as the birds in the trees that lined the street, as warm and welcoming as hot chocolate on a cold winter night.
As the tractor chugged down the street, Garrett decided Charity was probably the most competent woman he’d ever met. In contrast to Hailey, she never would have let her family talk her—however temporarily—into marrying a man she didn’t love. She would have fought it tooth and nail.
Granted, she might not be as classically beautiful as Hailey—or as most of the women he’d dated. But at her core she was one hell of a woman.
Heading back into the house—so empty it echoed with lost promises—he tried to remember precisely how long ago it had been when he and Charity had made love at the lake. It was late summer, he thought, because he’d gone back to the university shortly after that. But exactly what year had that been?
The phone rang as he entered the house, disrupting his thoughts.
He picked up the instrument.
“Hey, Keeley, my man,” the caller said, his voice so booming Garrett immediately knew it was his agent, Tommy Lubcheck, former Pro Bowl Viking linebacker. “You musta gotten back early from your honeymoon, huh?”
“Not exactly,” Garret hedged, holding the phone a couple of inches away from his ear. “What’s up?”
“Nothing good, I’m afraid. Was just gonna leave a message on your machine.”
“Go ahead. I’ll pretend I’m not here.”
“Yeah, well, it’s the Saints. They considered bringing you on board as a backup quarterback, but folded at the last minute. They picked up Terry Westin from Northwestern instead.”
“He’s a rookie, for God’s sake. And he didn’t have all that good a year.” But he has two good knees. The truth of those words, and their import, reverberated through Garrett’s mind. If he couldn’t rehabilitate his knee—
“I know. I know. Don’t worry. I’m talkin’ to a couple of other teams about you. The preseason’s always hard on quarterbacks. Injuries, you know. And some of ’em just can’t hack it. I’m not giving up on you, man.”
His fingers tightened in near desperation around the phone. “I appreciate that, Tommy.”
“Well, kiss the bride for me. I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks, Tommy. Talk to you later.”
Garrett cradled the phone. With a snarl of frustration, he splayed his fingers through his hair. He had more talent in one hand than that kid from Northwestern... Not that it mattered to the boys who held the purse strings.
Sighing, he went in search of a beer in the kitchen.
It was quiet in the house with him all alone. If he couldn’t sell the place, he’d have to rent out rooms.
His lips quirked. Too bad Charity and her son were so happy living on that subsistence farm of hers. He’d invite them to come stay with him.
But he’d draw the line at inviting Rambo.
He popped the tab on the can.
Procrastination wasn’t going to work forever. His folks would be wondering what the hell had happened to him.
He wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of explaining to his father that he had failed again.
There was something else bothering him, too. Something Charity had said.
Chapter Six
She heard Bud’s truck in the driveway just as she was serving Donnie his dinner. Hailey’s Cherokee pulled in right behind him.
It had been an impossibly long day—after an equally interminable night. Garrett’s presence still hovered in the house—the faint trace of his masculine scent; Charity’s far more potent memories; the indentation of his head on the pillow next to hers, which, perversely, she had been unwilling to fluff back into shape.
In spite of some residual anger still directed at Bud for his shenanigans, she was relieved to have her brother and his bride back home. At least they’d fill the house with new sounds, new scents. The memories of Garrett would linger in her mind, however, as they had so powerfully for the past eight years.
The truck door slammed.
“Is that Garrett? He said he’d come.” Donnie popped up from the kitchen table ready to race outside.
“It’s your uncle Bud.”
“Oh.” His enthusiasm waned.
“And your aunt Hailey,” Charity reminded him.
This time he pulled a face.
“Remember your manners, young man. Hailey’s a part of our family now. An Arden just like you and me.” Founders of Grazer’s Corners, whether acknowledged or not. Immigrants from the east at the turn of the century who’d struggled and survived. Their memories deserved to be honored.
His shoulders slumped. “Yeah, I guess. Garrett said I was supposed to give her a chance. He said she’s pretty.”
“Yes, well...” Her throat tightened. Hailey was far more Garrett’s type than she was, model thin with classic features and glossy blond hair. Not a woman whose hair frizzed even on desert-dry days. “Hailey’s very attractive.”
The screen door at the front of the house creaked open.
“Sis, we’re home. Anybody here?”
Cupping the back of Donnie’s head, Charity ushered him into the living room to greet his new aunt, determined the young woman would feel welcomed into the family. She forcefully tamped down questions she had about Hailey’s relationship with Garrett and the accompanying flare of unwanted jealousy. “We’re here,” she called.
Bud stepped gingerly into the room. He glanced around, then focused on his sister and frowned. “Where’s Garrett?”
“Gone.”
“But you were supposed to—”
“I don’t think Garrett liked your practical joke, Uncle Bud. He and Mom couldn’t do nothin’ without each other.”
“How’d he get loose?”
“I found the bolt cutters in the toolshed.” She shook her head at her brother. “You’d sure better have that gizmo you took out of my car. I want it all put back—”
“I’ll fix it later. Has he called the cops on us?” Bud asked, a trace of panic in his voice.
“No. But you’re lucky he didn’t. This was a fool stunt you pulled, Bud. I ought to throttle you myself.” That was an empty threat since her brother stood about six inches taller than Charity and outweighed her by a hundred pounds. Big brother in Bud’s case was an understatement. That didn’t prevent Charity from being mad at him, however.
“I thought maybe you and Garrett would...I don’t know. Chained together like you were...”
“Bud, you stole his bride. What the devil did you think he and I would—?”
From behind Bud, Hailey appeared. She smiled sheepishly. “Guess we really put you in an awkward spot, didn’t we?”
More awkward than you’ll ever know, she thought. Extending her arms, she crossed the room to the woman who had very likely been Garrett’s lover, an image she quickly set aside. “Welcome to the family,
Hailey. May you and Bud have many years of happiness together.”
Hailey’s blue eyes sheened with tears as she accepted Charity’s embrace. “Thank you. I’m so sorry for whatever trouble we caused you. I just couldn’t go through with my marriage to Garrett, not when I’ve always loved Bud so much. And it’s not like Garrett doesn’t have dozens of other women who’d be more than happy to marry him.”
Stepping back, Charity was torn by her feelings for Garrett and not wanting to offend her new sister-in-law. She opted for diplomacy. “I suppose that’s true. But he was hurt, Hailey. There had to be some other—”
“I’ll bet he’s already got some girl shacking up with him,” Bud said, looping his arm around Hailey’s shoulders and pulling her close. “He probably never stopped seeing other women, even when he and Hailey were planning to get married.”
Shocked, Charity said, “I don’t think he’s like that.” He’d said that he’d loved Hailey, or thought he had. He wouldn’t have been two-timing her.
“Hell, Garrett’s always had more women than you could shake a stick at,” Bud said. “You shoulda heard the locker-room talk when he was in high school. He made out anytime he crooked his little finger.”
Charity had heard the rumors, but she’d assumed if he were engaged he would be faithful. The thought that he might not have been made her slightly sick to her stomach.
“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it, Buddy,” Hailey crooned. She lifted her face to her groom and he kissed her, all too deeply.
Charity wanted to cover Donnie’s eyes. “I didn’t know when to expect you two. Have you had dinner yet?”
It took them a while to come up for air.
Donnie made a hasty exit, mumbling, “Yuck, I hate mushy stuff.”
Charity was about to follow her son out of the room when Bud said, “We stopped for burgers, thanks, anyway.” He planted another solid kiss on Hailey’s lips. “It’s been a long ride back from Vegas. Think I’ll show my bride her new bedroom. We’ll tell you all about the wedding later.” Hardly glancing in Charity’s direction, he escorted Hailey down the hallway. It looked like they might be occupied for a long time.
The Hog-Tied Groom (The Brides of Grazer's Corners #3) Page 7