* * *
Caitlyn was staying—the best news Mitch had heard since learning Stevens was no longer a threat. To anyone.
Now if he could get through this church service Tara had forced on him. She’d even arranged for him to sit next to Caitlyn. His sister—pure of heart with the best of intentions—but about as subtle as a longhorn in a china shop.
Multicolored prisms burst through the stained glass windows. Old-fashioned pews held well-used hymnals in the wooden racks. Musty pages—smells from his childhood. Caitlyn’s posture remained stiff. She’d put as much space between them on the pew as she could manage—a good two inches of dark green fabric between him and her frothy red dress. Obviously wishing she was anywhere other than sitting with him.
It surprised him she’d agreed to stay for another week. But then, Tara could be very persuasive.
“Turn to Romans 8:38–39,” the pastor’s voice boomed, and the swishing of pages echoed throughout the church. “‘For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.’”
Not even questioning God’s timing.
After Dylan died, he’d questioned God, stopped praying, stopped going to church. He’d crawled inside himself—wishing he’d been the one to die instead.
Pushing aside the fact that God was still in control. He’d forgotten to trust that God had called Dylan home. The timing fit into God’s grand plan. Not Mitch’s.
Forgive me.
He’d never understand why. Not until he got to Glory. But he had to remember—it was God’s show to run. Not his.
Snippets of the rest of the sermon pierced his thoughts and heart. When the altar-call song began, he stood and hurried to the front. Legs shaking, mind blank, he knelt. God knew all that lay heavy on his heart. Movement to his right. His dad knelt by his side.
God, take all of it. My guilt over Dylan’s death, the inadequacy I feel when I fail to protect and someone dies, my relationship with Caitlyn. I can’t handle it. But I know You can.
He stood and his dad did, too. A few yards away, Caitlyn knelt at the altar. Alone.
Go to her.
But before he could take a step, she stood. Eyes cast down, she returned to her seat.
* * *
Despite all Tara’s attempts to get Caitlyn to go shopping, she wasn’t sure her leg was up to it. She sat in the window seat, pretending to read a business magazine. Why, why, why had she agreed to stay? If only she could call a cab and sneak home.
Mitch lurked nearby, watching some home-improvement show. She should have stayed in her room. Grandpa had tried to interest her in his puzzle, but she couldn’t concentrate.
Movement out of the corner of her eye. Mitch. Headed in her direction.
“You okay?” He sat down on the other end of the window seat.
“Fine.” She forced her gaze in his direction to find bare feet and jeans. A deadly combination for her fluttering heart.
“You’re so quiet.”
“Just reading.”
“I can tell.” He reached for the magazine, took it from her and turned it right side up.
Her face heated. “Guess I’m distracted.”
“Let’s go for a walk.”
“I’d rather stay here.”
“Caitlyn, you’re safe.” He took her hand.
But she pulled free. Not safe from him. “I’ll stay and help Grandpa.”
“Young lady, you’re much too young and vibrant to sit around with an old man doing puzzles.” Grandpa shooed her away. “Now git.”
Mitch reclaimed her hand and gently pulled her up from the seat.
She tugged out of his grasp but followed him to the door. He put his jacket on, then helped her shrug into her coat.
Outside, stillness surrounded them except for traffic whirring in the distance, horses whinnying and birds twittering overhead.
A sparrow skittered out of a bush. Caitlyn jumped.
“You’re safe.” Mitch pulled her close. “Say it.”
“I’m safe.” Like an idiot huddled in his arms repeating a mantra that could never work. Her heart would never be safe with Mitch around.
“Just stay close.”
With pleasure. With his arm around her shoulder, hers around his waist, huddled close, they walked.
After a while, she relaxed. More content than she had been in ten years. If only he hadn’t moved on.
How would his someone new feel about him being sidled up to his someone old? She put some space between them.
“Hey, where’d you go?” He tried to pull her close again, but she sidestepped him.
“Tara told me...” she bit her lip “...you’re seeing someone new. How would she feel about...us being close to each other?”
Chapter 8
“I’m not seeing anyone.” Mitch frowned.
Caitlyn replayed Tara’s words. I thought he was seeing someone new... Mitch had walked in then and they’d never finished the conversation.
“I have a really good friend, but that’s all she is—kind of like you and Cody. Tara thought it might grow into more, but it won’t. I’ve told my well-intentioned sister that dozens of times.”
“She wants you to be happy.” Caitlyn’s heart sped. Mitch was free.
He nestled her against his side again and her heart went into orbit.
If only she could count on him to keep himself safe.
* * *
Since neither Jared nor Caitlyn had ever visited the Alamo, Tara insisted they tour the ancient shrine to all that was the great state of Texas.
Mitch tagged along in the guise of making Caitlyn feel safe. At least that gave him a reason to hover near. She’d left her crutches at the ranch but leaned heavily on the cane he’d gotten from Stan.
As they entered the hallowed ground where a small band of Texans had held out for thirteen days against Mexico’s Santa Anna, Mitch removed his hat. Though he’d been there countless times, he saw the historical significance anew each time he visited.
A gray-haired lady led a group tour, giving a short history of the Texas revolution and how the Alamo had fallen, leading to the deaths of its famous defenders such as Davy Crockett, James Bowie, William Travis and Sam Houston.
“The shout, ‘Remember the Alamo!’ still resonates with Texans today.” The guide’s voice took on a passionate, reverent quality. “People worldwide continue to remember the Alamo as a heroic struggle against impossible odds—a place where men made the ultimate sacrifice for freedom. For this reason, the Alamo remains the Shrine of Texas Liberty.”
The tour ended and the family broke away from the group. Quiet, each seemingly lost in their own thoughts of all they’d heard as they exited the stone structure.
“I’m glad you decided to stay for the wedding.” He matched Caitlyn’s stride. “I mean—it means a lot to Tara.” And me.
She didn’t say anything.
“You okay?”
“Fine. I just never realized the men’s wives and children were also caught in the siege. They must have been so frightened.”
“Yes, but they all got to return to their homes.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Safe and sound.”
“Next stop, the bridal shop for final fittings.” Tara spun a circle on the sidewalk.
“A dress shop.” Cody chuckled. “Think I’ll pass and go on to the River Walk.”
�
��Tara and Caitlyn are the only ones required for the fitting.” Mom held Dad’s hand as the walk symbol turned green and they crossed the street. “I already passed my test and Jared certainly doesn’t need to see the dress. The rest of us could all head to the mall and meet up there.”
“Think I’ll escort the pretty ladies,” Mitch offered.
He heard Caitlyn’s breath catch, but she didn’t protest.
* * *
The bell above the door dinged as they stepped inside the store. Rows of puffy dresses made of yards of cloudlike material and lace surrounded him.
“Ah, there’s my bride.” A trim lady in her sixties tucked Tara’s hand in the crook of her elbow. “Is this the groom? No groom for the fitting. You mustn’t see the dress.”
“No.” Tara laughed. “This is my brother. And this is my last-minute bridesmaid.”
“In this day and age, do we really believe in bad luck?” Mitch quirked an eyebrow.
The bridal shop lady’s mouth tightened in disapproval. “I take no chances when it comes to marriage. Come, ladies.”
Tara shot him a behave-yourself glare and disappeared down a hall. Caitlyn followed without giving him so much as a glance.
He settled in one of several cushy white wing chairs facing a floor-to-ceiling mirror and raised platform. Nothing manly about this place. The end table beside the chair held several magazines. All bridal. He twiddled his thumbs.
The swish of fabric announced Tara’s approach. He raised his head. White fluff everywhere. His little sister—a beautiful bride. “You look amazing.”
“Really?” Her smile carried more wattage than all the lighting in the store as she smoothed the dress and turned a circle in front of the mirrors.
“You’d better be glad I really like Jared.”
“Isn’t he the greatest?”
“Ahem.” The bridal-shop lady clapped her hands. “Where is my bridesmaid?”
“The dress fits fine.” Caitlyn’s voice came from the back of the store.
“No, you must let me see. And you won’t get the full effect without all the mirrors and lighting.”
“Come on, Caitlyn. I want to see, too,” Tara called.
A rustling sound and Caitlyn appeared in the hallway. His breath stalled. Her sleeveless lace dress in that purple-pink color his sister called fuchsia stopped just above shapely knees. The modest V neckline accented her collarbone.
“Turn,” the bridal lady ordered.
As Caitlyn turned, he saw the V revealed a tantalizing expanse of her back.
“Oh, Caitlyn, I love it.” Tara’s excitement transferred to her tone.
“And a male perspective?” The bridal lady glanced in his direction.
“Borgeous.” Mitch squeezed his eyes shut. “I mean—beautiful and gorgeous all wrapped up in one amazing wom—I mean, dress.”
Caitlyn’s face turned almost the shade of the dress.
“Is it me—” the bridal lady laughed “—or does the brother have a thing for the bridesmaid? Maybe another wedding in the works.” She circled Caitlyn as Mitch’s ears burned. “No alterations needed. Now let me concentrate on my bride.”
Caitlyn hurried toward the back of the store.
Four more days to show her just how serious his thing for her was.
* * *
Sidewalks circled and twined around the mall. Caitlyn strolled along the River Walk with Tara, Jared and Cody. Mitch trailed behind with his mom, dad and grandfather.
If only the gentle lapping of the river alongside them would take her away. Let her forget Mitch’s presence. Help her not need him.
She had to stop leaning on him. Her heart couldn’t take his nearness. Especially since she now knew he wasn’t seeing anyone else.
“I can’t believe you’ve never been here.” Tara paused as a boat packed with people passed. “We could ride a river taxi.”
“That sounds fun.” Caitlyn tried to take in all the sights, sounds and delicious smells emanating from restaurants.
“Maybe we can fit one in before lunch.” Tara linked her arm through Caitlyn’s.
“You sure? I don’t want to cut into your shopping time.”
“We’ll have plenty of time.” Tara waved a taxi over as it rounded a bend. “This is one of the stops.”
The boat pulled alongside them and stopped.
“Let me help you.” Mitch stepped into the boat and supported Caitlyn’s weight as she boarded. His arms slipped naturally around her waist as he lifted her into the taxi. Her hands shook as they settled on his shoulders.
“I need to sit down.” She had to get away from Mitch.
A young couple stood, creating a space wide enough for two at the front of the boat. “We’ll move to the back so you won’t have to.”
“Thank you.” Caitlyn claimed the seat and tried not to whack anyone with her cane. If only the woman had stayed, to keep Mitch from sitting beside her.
“How many tickets?” the driver inquired.
“Oh, you know, we’d better make it two.” Tara smiled from the sidewalk.
“Two?” Caitlyn tried to hide the panic in her tone.
“Mom and I can shop. We’ll need some male input, so the other men can go with us.” Tara waved and the taxi pulled away.
Cody shrugged helplessly from the sidewalk.
“Well, that went according to her plan.” Mitch grinned at his retreating family.
Warmth threaded through her at his smile. Too close. With a boatload of people, how could it feel as if they were alone?
“Were you in on this?” Caitlyn asked.
“Of course not.” Mitch sighed and scanned the expanse of river in front of them. “But we’ve got a beautiful river. Let’s enjoy it.”
Caitlyn tried to relax, but his knee hovering inches from hers kept her heart stammering. They rounded a bend and her stomach didn’t make the turn. “Oh, no.”
“What?”
“Motion sickness.” She closed her eyes, but her stomach spun more. “I need off.”
“Driver!” Mitch cupped his hands around his mouth. “My friend is feeling sick. Could we stop?”
“Of course.”
The boat neared the sidewalk, but it still seemed miles away. Bile rose in the back of her throat. Her flesh heated.
The boat stopped. Her stomach collided with the stillness and she stood. Her head swam. Mitch’s arm came around her waist.
“I’m sorry for the extra stop,” she apologized.
“Not a problem, ma’am.” The driver tipped his straw hat. “Feel better.”
Mitch picked her up. Someone handed him her cane and he stepped off the boat with his awkward bundle.
“Stop walking or I’m going to hurl all over you.”
Mitch stopped.
“Set me down.”
He did and she slid down to the sidewalk. Sitting in the middle of the cool concrete with people sidestepping her, she covered her face with both hands and sucked in deep, settling breaths while Mitch hovered at her side.
“You okay?”
“Just don’t ever put me on a boat again.” Finally, her stomach righted itself.
“Was that your first boat ride?”
“And last.”
“I’m sorry, I should have known. You always got sick on the bus if you didn’t sit up front.”
“It seems to be worse the older I get. Tara will pay for this.”
“What do you say we find a bench and while away the morning people watching?”
“That sounds nice.” And still. Except for his company.
* * *
The rest of the week, wedding prep and two more shopping trips ate up Caitlyn’s time, including several outings with Mitch hovering near. But wi
th his entire family along each time, she’d managed to steer clear of any more alone time with him.
The day before the wedding, she stayed busy helping with decorations. Tulle, lace and flowers created a wedding wonderland in Grandpa’s backyard, and the late-September forecast promised to be perfect. Just the rehearsal and wedding left to get through.
Family members and friends arrived steadily all day. As everyone pitched in with final details, Caitlyn got reacquainted with Mitch’s cousin Clay and his wife, Rayna, the creative director for the Stockyards’ publicity campaign.
No run-ins with Mitch all day. Not until they gathered in the backyard for rehearsal.
“Okay, how are the bridesmaids and groomsmen paired up?” the wedding planner asked.
Paired up? A tremor moved through Caitlyn. What happened to the old-fashioned way of having the groomsmen already at the front of the church as the bridal party walks down the aisle? Surely Mitch wasn’t her escort. Tara wouldn’t do that to her.
Tara’s guilty gaze met Caitlyn’s.
Yes. She would.
“You’re with Mitch.”
“What about the standby cousin?” Caitlyn heard the panic in her tone. “I assumed he’d be my escort.”
“You’re too tall for him, so we had to shift things around.”
“Oh, sure you did.”
“I love you.” Tara hugged her.
“I can tell.”
“If I didn’t love you,” Tara whispered, “I’d leave you alone and let you be miserable without my brother.”
Mitch cleared his throat right behind her. “I’m told I’m your escort.”
“Everything will work out perfect. You’ll see.” Tara let go of her and shoved her in Mitch’s direction.
He offered his arm.
With no choice, Caitlyn rested her hand on his bicep. And shivered at his nearness.
Just get through this. Two more days and they’d go their separate ways.
* * *
Focus on his sister and her wedding day. But Mitch was hard-pressed to think about anything other than Caitlyn.
For the past several days, she’d pulled away from him. But last night, he’d walked down the aisle with her countless times and sat beside her at the rehearsal dinner. Today, he’d escort her along the white flowery runner he’d helped Mom pin in place in the backyard. They’d flank the archway near the preacher.
Rodeo Queen Page 9