by Nunn, Mae
“You’re one to talk,” Hunt scoffed. “You’ve been a college student for fifteen years. When are you gonna get on with your life?”
“Here’s the difference, little bro. I’m happy. You’re not.”
Hunt shoved his palms in the hip pockets of his Wranglers and paced the length of Cullen’s study. The fact that the room was filled with volumes of wisdom only served to make him feel more stupid for losing control of his future.
“You’re right. I’m not happy, and it all started when Gillian showed up and bought Pap’s place.”
“That doesn’t make Gilly the bad guy or the source of your misery. She’s been more agreeable to our wishes than we ever expected she would at the beginning. Look how often she’s listened to reason from you.”
“Tell that to the Caddos camped at the entrance to Temple Territory. They’re outraged over what’s happened.”
“Oh, Hunt. That’s just a bunch of old country boys who call themselves The Tribe. They tailgate every Sunday during football season and take their families camping on South Padre for spring break. Those fellas will use any excuse to sit around a campfire together, including a protest.”
“What about the Caddo well? It was important enough for Pap to build his estate around, and now it’s full of concrete.”
“Take a seat, will ya, Hunt? You’re wearing out the rug that Alma put down there to cover the spot where I wore out the carpet underneath it.”
Hunt flopped into the leather chair beside the massive desk strewn with his brother’s research stuff. Hunt’s righteous indignation was waning beneath the sense of Cullen’s arguments.
“You might have noticed that I care a lot about history,” Cullen began to explain.
Hunt snorted laughter at the understatement.
“Okay, I’m on the obsessive side when it comes to studying the past. But that should tell you something. If I’m not bothered by the destruction of that smelly pile of rocks, then you probably shouldn’t be, either. There was never any evidence that would support making it a landmark, or the East Texas Historical Society would have slapped a placard on it a hundred years ago.”
“Then why was it so important to Pap?”
“That’s another mystery about the old man that we may never understand. When a culture wants something significant to be remembered, they find a way to leave a legacy. I can’t say what caused Pap to preserve that old well, but if it wasn’t important enough to leave the story behind, then it sure isn’t important enough to steal your happiness.”
“But there was something special, something sacred about the ground around the well.”
“Only because you made it so by taking comfort there, Hunt. I did the same thing with Daddy’s study. When you took your bedroll to sleep beside the well, I took mine to sleep beside his bookshelf. We were kids, and we found peace the only way we knew how. But we’re grown men now, and neither one of us has to cling to a patch of earth anymore to remind us of Daddy and Mama.”
“You make a solid case,” Hunt muttered.
“What was that again?” Cullen goaded him to speak up.
“You’re right, okay!” Hunt gave in to his brother’s logic.
“Of course I’m right. Now go take care of that other business before you get sidetracked again. How long do you figure it’ll take?”
“Only a couple of days, but with it being the holidays, I may have to attend a few family gatherings to get the job done. I’ll be asking for a lot, and I can’t just make a call or show up for fifteen minutes and expect people to accommodate me.”
“You go do whatever you have to do. We’ll still be here when you get home. Since you won’t be around to cook dinner on Christmas Day, you can make it up to us with two turkeys next year.” Cullen rubbed his palms in anticipation. “One roasted and one deep-fried.”
* * *
GILLIAN WAS HOLDING her cell, rehearsing what she planned to say when Rachel returned her call. The phone buzzed, Hunt’s number popped up on the caller ID and then his voice came through the speaker.
“I took a chance you might truly be awake this time.”
If it hadn’t been for the knee brace keeping her leg locked in place, she might have jumped to her feet with a case of nerves. Gillian’s heart lurched at the baritone she’d grown to love, but she didn’t hear the anger she expected.
“You’re right. I am finally out of the drug-induced fog. And I apologize for the way I must have sounded during the past few calls. I can’t remember a thing.”
“I assure you that, even under the influence, you were always a lady.”
“Now you’re on to the fact that I’m a cheap date. I can’t drink more than two glasses of wine, and pain medication renders me useless. I should have cut the prescription in half from the very first dose.”
“Don’t let it worry you. You obviously needed it for the pain. How’s the knee?”
“The swelling is going down, but after trying to take a few steps this morning, I understand the reason for the brace and crutches. I can’t take any weight on this leg at all.”
“That shouldn’t come as a shock. You may be a skinny little thing, but your knee took the full force of your body weight on a surface made of stone. In that situation, the stone is usually the winner, because it’s hard, meant to last forever and stay right where it is. Unless, of course, somebody decides to bring in a bulldozer, and then the stone won’t have much chance.”
“Okay, Hunt, enough with the wordplay. Go ahead and say what you have to say, and get it over with.”
A sharp rap on her suite door that could only belong to her father interrupted Gillian’s intention to get this confrontation over with.
“You seem to have company,” Hunt commented.
“Just hold on a minute, please.” She muted the cell phone and called out, “Dad, it’s okay to come in. I’m decent.”
The antique door hinges squeaked. A face with eyes the color of slate appeared from behind the solid core door.
She yanked her quilt even higher over modest flannel pajamas. “Why didn’t you say you were out there?”
“I figured it would be best to share the news after the fact. You know how that is, don’t you, Gilly?”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“I MOST CERTAINLY DO,” she answered his impertinent question. “Sometimes in life, no matter how you plan for the best and prepare for the worst, you find yourself in a situation you hadn’t anticipated.”
Gillian watched as Hunt closed the door behind him and took a seat on the sofa near the fireplace. He was only a few feet from where she reclined on the chaise, trying not to appear as frumpy as she felt in a plaid pajama top and her useless leg propped up on throw pillows. His cologne was enticing, even from a distance, and he was perfectly turned out, as always.
The steamy mirrors in the bathroom hadn’t lied. She looked frightful. Her mother had dragged a fresh shirt over her head and run a brush through her wet hair, but that was all the grooming they’d been able to do. At least she was clean and she’d given her teeth a good scrubbing in the shower.
“You’re exactly where I left you three days ago,” he observed.
Gillian pointed toward the bed. “I’m pretty sure that’s where I’ve been most of the past seventy-two hours. I remember you bringing me home and my parents coming in, but everything until this morning is a blur.”
“Has your father brought you up to speed on the work that’s been done while you were getting your beauty rest?”
“Hunt, as I already suggested, go ahead and have your say. Get it off your chest so we can move on, one way or the other.” She tried to sound as resolute and matter-of-fact as possible, determined to disguise the fact that his moving on was her greatest fear.
He sat forward on the cushion, his boots pressed into the carpet,
elbows resting on solid thighs while his hands dangled between his knees. With his eyes focused on some point between his toes, it was difficult to discern any expression on his face. He held that pensive pose for several long seconds. When Hunt’s gaze finally sought hers, there was an unmistakable gleam of tears in his eyes.
Gillian had expected any number of reactions, but this one was not on the list. Under different circumstances she’d have moved to sit beside him, put her arm around his shoulders and hold him close until he got through the emotional moment. But she’d been the one to cause the sadness, and she wasn’t exactly mobile. So she stayed put and crafted her words carefully.
“Hunt, I’m sorry this has affected you so strongly, but it’s not personal. It was a business decision and nothing more. That eyesore was smack in the middle of a spot where I need to build, and it had to be eliminated. The city gave me permission, and I gave the go-ahead.”
“So this wasn’t something your father ordered without your knowledge?”
“Absolutely not. I may have been in a drug-induced stupor when the work was accomplished, but it was done at my direction. Dad was trying to spare me some heat, but he shouldn’t have misled you when he said he’d been the one to give Karl the go-ahead. I did that almost a week ago.”
“Karl knew about this?” Hunt seemed incredulous. He probably felt betrayed by his friend.
“Yes, and he did his best to talk me out of it. But the destruction of the well has been in the architectural plans all along. The roofline is going to be extended over the courtyard, and a wall of glass block will be built to enclose the space to create the spa.”
“That’s what was in the drawings that you wouldn’t show me,” he deduced.
She nodded. “We got to this point in the renovations much sooner than I expected. The well was a health hazard and out of place in an upscale boutique hotel. It had to go. Surely you can understand ranking a business decision over a personal preference.”
“Of course I can,” he admitted.
“Then why does this seem to cut you so deeply?”
He glanced away for a moment. She watched his chest expand with a deep breath.
“You don’t trust me.” He shook his head. “Not completely.”
“I don’t trust anybody other than my parents completely.”
“I’m well aware of that now.”
“Hunt, what did you expect? It’s not like we’ve known one another all our lives. It’s only been a short time. Even so, consider how much things have changed between us. We’ve gone from zero to ninety in sixty seconds. From open animosity to partnership, from strangers to...”
“To what?”
“I’m not even sure what name to put on this relationship that’s developed between us. But I am sure it’s weighted in your favor, and that makes it unfair to me.”
She had his attention. The muscles in his jaws worked as he gritted his teeth. As long as he was moving through the hurt feelings, she might as well say the rest.
“Hunt, how can you ask for such a level of trust when you can’t even say you’ll still be part of my life in six weeks? When you can’t guarantee we’ll occupy the same five hundred square miles next year? When, predictably, you put more stock in maintaining the stuff in this place than in caring about the woman who owns it?”
“Are you finished?”
“Not just yet.”
He inclined his head and swept one open palm, a sign to continue.
“I admit I was closed off to your suggestions in the beginning, but as my mind opened up, so did my heart. I saw the wisdom in keeping your pap’s spirit alive here, in letting some of his legacy find a home with me. And in response you went shopping for another opportunity, hell-bent on finding the next challenge for the Cowboy Chef. And then you gripe because I don’t trust you completely.”
“Is that all?” he asked.
“Why? Are you in a hurry to leave? Do you have some place more important to jet off to? Maybe a job interview to be Chef de Cuisine in London or Rio? Anyplace would be better than here with me, I suppose.”
Her voice was unsteady. She heard it quiver as she did what she’d told Hunt to do, revealing true feelings. But while she’d gotten a few things off her chest, it didn’t even scratch the surface of all that was in her heart.
* * *
WOMEN WERE NEXT to impossible to read, but Hunt was pretty sure Gillian was saying she loved him without saying she loved him. She’d called him predictable, thought she could anticipate his next move, which meant she expected him to lob a grenade right back at her. So he did the unexpected.
He closed the space between them with two steps and dropped to one knee before Gillian. He’d have gathered her into his arms, but a pair of metal crutches leaning against the side of that chaise thing blocked his path. So he settled for gathering her hands between his. Her long, graceful fingers were cold, so he bent his head, exhaled a warm breath and kissed them sweetly.
“Gillian, I need to ask you a question.” His voice was soft.
Violet eyes flew wide with alarm.
“This is hardly the time or place! I’m not ready!” She made an effort to tug her hands free but his grip increased. “What on earth are you doing, Hunt?”
“Not what you think, that’s for sure.” He laughed out loud. “Not today, anyway.”
Gillian struggled again, but he wasn’t letting her go. Not now, not ever. He was gonna hang on to this woman for dear life. But she was right; he had to take it more slowly.
“Will you stop trying to get away, Hop-Along Cassidy?” He poked fun at her disabled knee.
“So are you on one knee just to harass me on my own level?” Gillian brought him back to the reason for his posture.
“That’s partially what I had in mind.” He let the silly smile slip from his lips. “But mostly I want to get your full attention, so you’ll take me seriously.”
“What is it, Hunt?” The intensity of her stare pierced to his very soul. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, Gilly. Everything’s wrong, and everything’s right all in the same breath.” As he cupped her fingers gently they began to warm, just as he was warming to his subject.
“First, I’m at a place in my career where I can be the star of the show, demanding the big bucks. But instead, I’m drawn to a small venue. It has a lot of future-earning potential, but right now it can’t really afford me. And second, something I always believed I wanted has slipped through my fingers. I should ache with the loss, but instead I feel pride, because in the hands of someone more capable than me, it’s becoming greater than I ever imagined it could be.”
Gratitude welled in Gillian’s eyes, and he said a silent thank-you to his twin who’d realized before Hunt had that the moment had come to speak his heart. He leaned close and inhaled the enticing scent of grilled cheese, and then pressed a tender kiss to the mouth that tasted of butter and salt. As he released her hands, pulled away and sat on his heels, she caught his face between her palms.
She urged him closer again and whispered, “What’s the third thing?”
“The third thing is really the first thing.” He paused, searched her face. Then he pressed his forehead to Gillian’s and closed his eyes, unable to continue.
“Go on,” she encouraged.
“I’m falling in love for the first time in my life, and the woman of my dreams is so busy fulfilling her own dreams that she doesn’t have much of herself left for me.”
“Oh, Hunt,” Gillian whispered, the sadness in her tone telling him what he’d been afraid of hearing.
He rushed on. “So it shouldn’t come as a surprise that I kept my options open and my eye on the future. If you won’t fault me for that, I won’t fault you for reserving trust to a very few.”
“Gillian?” Meredith was at the door. “T
he call you’ve been waiting for has come through on the business line. Can you talk or would you prefer I say you’re not available?”
“I’m sorry, but I have to take this,” she said to Hunt.
“So there you have it.” He shrugged and then stood. “I’ll just be going, so you can get on with more important things.”
Gillian grabbed his hand, preventing him from moving away.
“Mother, give me sixty seconds and then put the call through, please.” Her mother nodded. To Hunt, Gillian said, “I need you to stay and listen, okay? I’ve been rehearsing what to tell Rachel for the past hour, and I could use your moral support and coaching. Would you mind?”
“Of course not.”
Ringing pierced the quiet and buttons flashed on a nearby multiline phone beyond Gillian’s reach.
“If you’ll press the speaker line for me, I’ll take it from there.”
“Gillian?” Rachel’s familiar accent came from the phone.
“Well, hello there!” A smile in Gillian’s tone disguised the trepidation Hunt found in her eyes.
“Is everything going to be okay when we get there?” Rachel’s voice echoed with concern.
“Could you be more specific?”
“Hunt mentioned a couple of days ago that you’d taken a spill and buggered up your knee.”
“Oh, that.”
“What do you mean by ‘oh, that’? Is there more?”
“A bit more, yes, but nothing we can’t manage.”
“Please don’t say the news has leaked and the bloody paparazzi are already camped out down there.”
“No, Rachel, it’s not the press. But, now that you mention it, we do have a few guys sort of camped out.”
Hunt stood close by and silently nodded encouragement. Gillian explained the situation as if her script had been written by a spin doctor. She kept to the facts, minimized the brouhaha and assured Rachel repeatedly that the minor incident would not impact their plans.