Too Texan to Tame

by Janice Maynard

  “Great party, sis,” he said. “Any chance you and I could have some time alone later?”

  She waved a hand. “Maybe tomorrow. Noonish. We do need to catch up.” Despite her glowing mood, there were dark shadows beneath her eyes.

  He curled an arm around her waist. “You look exhausted, Soph. Everything okay?”

  She leaned her head on his shoulder and yawned. “Everything is perfect now that you’re home. Did you know Brie is back in town?”

  His jaw clenched. “Yeah. I heard.”

  “She’s opened a vet clinic. I took Mr. Boots there for his shots last week. The whole waiting room was full.”

  The niggling headache Vaughn had earlier was turning into a full-blown drum line chorus. Before he could think of yet another innocuous response, a young, uniformed maid appeared. “Ms. Blackwood? There’s someone at the front door asking to see Mr. Blackwood.” The employee glanced at Vaughn. “Mr. Vaughn Blackwood.”

  Sophie yawned again. “Tell them to come in.”

  The maid fidgeted. “They don’t want to intrude.”

  Vaughn interrupted. “I’ll deal with it, sis.” There was no way the mystery caller at the front door was Brielle. Why would she show up uninvited at Sophie’s house? And looking for him, no less?

  Despite the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach, he strode through the crowded rooms, not making eye contact with anyone. Maybe this was his chance to escape and go back to the blessedly quiet guesthouse.

  When he put his hand on the doorknob and pulled, his spine tingled. As if lightning was about to strike the cold metal in his fingers. Nonsense. Absolute nonsense. “Can I help you?” he asked gruffly as he swung open the door.

  Two

  Brielle sucked in a shocked breath. She had asked to speak to Vaughn, but she hadn’t held out much hope that he would come. “It’s me,” she said. And then realized that her words were foolish and bumbling. Of course Vaughn knew who she was.

  He still held the edge of the door with one hand, the fingers white-knuckled. “Brielle.”

  Just the one word. Hoarse. Disbelieving.

  Her lips twisted. “You seem shocked. I thought surely someone would have told you I’ve moved back to Royal.”

  “Oh, they have,” he muttered. “A whole parade of ’em.”

  There was an odd note in his voice. And though it was hard to tell in the harsh glow of the porch light, he seemed pale.

  He was as beautiful as she remembered. Thick brown hair, intense green eyes. And a clean-shaven jaw that would make a sculptor weep with envy. Her insides turned all shivery.

  She shifted from one foot to the other. “I stopped by Magnolia Acres and asked Dixie where you were. One of my friends said she heard you blew into town last night.”

  “No secrets in Royal.” Now he sounded almost bitter.

  “I was sorry to hear about your dad. And his crazy will.”

  “No great loss. Clearly, we kids didn’t mean that much to him.”

  “Surely he had his reasons.”

  “Did you come tonight to discuss my father?” The question was curt.

  “You don’t have to be rude.”

  He lifted his chin, closed his eyes briefly, then pinned her with a stare that practically froze her on the spot. “Why are you here, Brielle?”

  She gnawed her lip. “I need to talk to you.”

  He waved a hand in a “go on” gesture. “Knock yourself out.”

  “Not now,” she said. “Not in public.”

  His gaze narrowed. “I think you said everything I needed to hear the last time we were together. I’m a selfish Peter Pan with no compassion, no heart and no real purpose on the planet.”

  Brie winced. Hearing her own words quoted back to her made her feel slightly ill. “I was angry,” she said.

  “No kidding.” Vaughn’s steely-eyed gaze flayed her.

  “I really do need to talk to you. It’s important,” she whispered, suddenly close to tears. She had never seen a man less open to mending fences. Animosity rolled off him in waves.

  Vaughn glanced at his watch impatiently. “I need to get back to the party. The bride-to-be will be wondering where I am. Surely whatever this is can wait.”

  “I have a half day at the clinic tomorrow. Could we do lunch?”

  He shook his head. “I already have a date with Sophie. And honestly, I’m not going to have much free time while I’m in Royal.”

  Wow. She hadn’t expected this. It almost appeared as if her defection had actually hurt him. But why? He’d been the one dead set on making sure she knew the rules when it came to their relationship. Strictly temporary. Recreational sex. No promises. No future.

  It wasn’t as if he had been in love with her. “Never mind,” she said dully.

  As she turned to leave, he grabbed her arm. Not hard. But firmly. As if he really didn’t want her to go. “Wait,” he said. “I’m sorry. You caught me off guard.” He closed the door behind him and led her down a couple of steps to the driveway below. “Is it really so important? I thought you hated my guts.”

  “I never hated you, Vaughn. We were simply too different to make things work.”

  Almost against his will—or so it seemed—he cupped her cheek in one large, warm palm. “You look beautiful, Brie.” Something hovered between them for five seconds. Ten. Her legs trembled. Her breath lodged in her throat.

  “I’m a mess,” she protested. It was true. She had come straight from the clinic. It was her late night. She had put on a clean top, because her lab coat had been spattered with blood. Her hair was caught up in a loose knot. She hadn’t had time to fix it.

  His body was warm and male close to hers.

  Just when she thought for sure he was going to kiss her, he stepped back. “I’ll be free by two o’clock tomorrow. We could go for a drive.”

  The sudden concession dissipated some of the heavy, leaden feeling in her stomach. “What if I drop by the guesthouse?” she said. A drive wouldn’t work for what she had in mind.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Are you propositioning me, Brie?” His sardonic jab was meant to make her uncomfortable.

  Her cheeks flamed—not that he could tell in the dark. “Don’t be silly. You’re not so irresistible that I have to jump your bones hours after you come back to town.”

  “I’m devastated,” he said, clearly not serious. “The Brie I remember was not so cruel.”

  “I have to go,” she said. “Will you be there when I show up?”

  The sharp note in her voice didn’t affect him at all. He had the gall to lift an eyebrow and give her a tight smile. “I’ll be waiting, Brie. Can’t wait to see what happens.”

  * * *

  Vaughn stood on the porch and watched Brie’s little car disappear down the driveway. He believed he’d put on a good show of being totally relaxed, but inside, he was less so.

  What did she want from him? And why all the secrecy?

  It occurred to him that she might need an investor for her veterinary practice. It wasn’t easy these days to get a new business off the ground. But if that was the case, why ask him?

  The questions swirled unanswered in his head as he went back inside and mingled. He had about reached his limits for socializing.

  Nigel, Sophie’s fiancé, and Irina, Kellan’s pregnant bride, were holding court on the far side of the living room in a circle of admirers. The aristocratic television executive and the Russian former model were both magnetic personalities.

  Meanwhile, Kellan and Sophie stood huddled in a nearby alcove, whispering. Vaughn joined them. “I think I’ll head out,” he said.

  Sophie’s face fell. “So soon?”

  “I was up early,” Vaughn said. “For a work meeting. I barely made it to the airport on time.”

  Kellan leaned against the wall, clearly keeping tabs on
his wife across the expanse of expensive carpet. “I wish you had returned sooner and been able to meet Darius. He had an important meeting he couldn’t miss in LA, so he and his girlfriend, Audra, headed to California a few days ago. They’ll be back for the wedding, of course, but it would have been great if you could have spent time with him before then.”

  Vaughn experienced a jolt of relief. Things were complicated enough at the moment. He wasn’t sorry to delay that odd family reunion with a stranger who shared his blood.

  “What do we think of our half brother?” Vaughn asked.

  Sophie and Kellan exchanged glances.

  Kellan shrugged. “I like him. He’s a straight-up guy. The DNA test results were conclusive.”

  Sophie nodded. “Darius is honestly as rattled as the rest of us. Can you imagine what it was like to hear that his biological father was Buck Blackwood?”

  Kellan snorted. “And that despite the dramatic reveal, the old man left him nothing?”

  “Where does Miranda fit into all this?” Vaughn asked. “I have a hard time imagining that she wants to deal with the ranch or the bank when her whole life is back in New York. She’s got the TV show, for one thing. Plus, New York is the home base for her exercise empire. And since everyone knows she got the inheritance while we were left out in the cold, Royal can’t possibly be a fun gig for her right now. Surely she doesn’t need the money.”

  “Well, you do know that Secret Lives has been doing some filming here. Audiences love the whole Western angle,” Sophie said.

  Vaughn shook his head, filled with admiration and love for his sister. “I still can’t believe you infiltrated the show and posed as a consultant.”

  Kellan grinned. “And got a husband out of it besides when you fell in love with the production company’s CEO.”

  Sophie’s smug smile told Vaughn that she didn’t regret a thing. “I went there trying to dig up dirt on Miranda, but honestly, I think she’s not as bad as we’ve painted her all this time.”

  Vaughn scowled. “And yet somehow she managed to inherit everything from a man who wasn’t even her husband anymore. I’m not buying the innocent surprised act.”

  “I get where you’re coming from,” Kellan said. “But Miranda has dropped a few hints that the inheritance drama might not be over yet.”

  Sophie nodded. “When I was over at the house making last-minute wedding arrangements, she mentioned the word caretaker. As if something in the future will be different.”

  “Well, thank God it has nothing to do with me. As soon as you and Nigel are legally wed, I’m getting back to Fort Worth. I’m not waiting around to see if my dearly departed dad has some Machiavellian plan for my future.”

  Kellan sighed. “He died virtually alone. Didn’t even let anyone know he was near the end. And because he had alienated his friends and family, he was left with nothing that mattered. Makes you feel kind of bad for him, doesn’t it?”

  Vaughn shook his head slowly. “You two are more forgiving than I am. He brought his troubles on himself.”

  “Maybe so,” Sophie said. “But Kellan and I are so happy now, it’s hard to hold a grudge.”

  Vaughn put an arm around each of them, closing the circle. “He may have been a wretched excuse for a father, but he and Mom gave us each other. I love you both. Now get back to the party and let me be an old curmudgeon in peace.”

  * * *

  A half hour later, Vaughn pulled up in front of the guesthouse, got out of the car and stretched. The sky cradled a million stars tonight. Quite a change from the view he was used to. The Dallas/Fort Worth metroplex was his home these days. He loved the energy and vitality of the cities.

  Even so, Royal’s slower pace and laid-back charm drew him in, restored his sense of balance.

  He couldn’t help thinking of Brielle at this moment. How many times had the two of them indulged their love of amateur astronomy? How many times had they spread a quilt in some private field and made love under the stars?

  The memories swamped him, coming as thick and fast as a flash flood in a dry gulch. She had been everything to him at one time. But he had been too driven, too ambitious. He’d let the relationship wither on the vine, leaving Brie to point out his shortcomings and ultimately to leave him.

  Ah, hell. It was all for the best.

  Gloomily, he fished out the key Dixie had given him and unlocked the door to the guesthouse. But he nearly stumbled when his toe connected with something unexpected.

  A manila envelope, thick and menacing, lay on the ground. Vaughn picked it up, saw his name scrawled in black marker. Inside the house, he tossed the envelope on the table and poured himself a drink. His luggage still sat at the foot of the stairs.

  The master suite was on the top floor. A second, smaller bedroom was tucked away at the back of the main level. Because Dixie had saved the entire place for him, he wouldn’t have to bother making small talk with any additional guests.

  He was damned glad. Exhaustion went bone deep. Sometimes he wondered why he worked so hard. He’d already made more money than he could spend in a lifetime. Yet still, he had to accumulate more. It was the Blackwood way.

  After finishing his scotch, he carried his bags upstairs. Then, unable to help himself, he went back down the stairs and picked up the envelope. Inside was a copy of his father’s will. He’d never actually read the damn thing—or even heard it read, come to think of it. At the reading of the will, Kace LeBlanc, Buck’s lawyer, had cut straight to the heart of it and told them all, flat out, that Miranda had gotten everything. But the document in Vaughn’s hands now was conveniently folded back to a page that addressed him personally.

  He sat down hard, felt his stomach pitch and began to read.

  Dear Vaughn,

  If you’re reading this, you’re probably pissed that I didn’t leave you anything. The truth is, of all my progeny, you’re probably the most like me. You love the open road—not being constrained by anyone’s expectations. You have a keen business sense, and you’re a bit of a renegade. You don’t want to settle down.

  Unfortunately, all those characteristics make you a bad risk when it comes to relationships. I suffered the same weaknesses, and I ended up alone and lonely. Does that admission surprise you? I learned my lessons the hard way. I’m dying now with no one at my side to hold my hand.

  So, I’m not leaving you any money. I’m hoping this letter from beyond the grave will convince you that the one thing you lack is the love of a good woman. I had two, and I lost them both.

  Be angry with me if you must, but try to learn from my mistakes. Miranda will be the arbiter of what comes next. I’ve asked her to watch over my children and decide when and if each of you has matured enough to make good lives for yourselves.

  I do love you, son. Don’t be afraid to change.

  Dad

  Vaughn cursed and tossed the sheaf of papers aside. What a load of crap. This was why he had stayed far away from all the lawyer shenanigans.

  Who had dropped off such a bombshell? Dixie? Surely not. She was more inclined to face problems head-on.

  Vaughn was too jumpy and irritated to sleep, even though the hour was late. Instead, he changed into shorts and athletic shoes and left the house to outrun his demons.

  The ranch was dark and quiet and mostly peaceful. Periodically, a lowing moo broke the silence. It was probably foolhardy to run in the dark, risking a broken ankle. But he was angry and upset and, though he was loath to admit it, hurt.

  Maybe most men would be pleased to hear they were like their fathers. Not Vaughn. His dad had alienated his mother. Then married a woman young enough to be his child. Divorced her, too. At the end, he’d succumbed to cancer with no close family member at his side.

  Vaughn ran faster, harder. He wasn’t like his father. He wasn’t. Maybe he was a loner, and maybe he liked keeping his emotions under control.
Nothing wrong with that. It didn’t matter what his father or anyone thought of him.

  He lived by a set of rules that made sense. He was charitably generous, and he had a brother and a sister he cared about. His life was perfect.

  Three

  After a restless night, Vaughn sent Dixie a text to see if she would join him for coffee. Half an hour later, she showed up carrying a freshly baked coffee cake that smelled of cinnamon and culinary delight. He inhaled deeply. “Did you make this?”

  She reached into a cabinet for plates and forks. “I could have, but I didn’t. I have a new cook who enjoys reproducing our family recipes. I’m paying her a ridiculous salary so she won’t leave me.”

  “Stick with that plan,” he said, swallowing his first bite. “This is amazing.”

  Dixie joined him, and they ate their impromptu breakfast in harmony. When the last crumbs were gone, she eyed him wryly. “You haven’t even been home twenty-four hours. What’s wrong, Vaughn? You’re so tense, you’re giving me a headache.”

  He shrugged and pulled the sheaf of papers from underneath a stack of magazines. “I found this on the doorstep when I got home last night.”

  Dixie glanced at it. “Ah.”

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  “I didn’t leave it there,” she said. “Though I have seen it. Both Kellan and Sophie have copies.”

  “If it wasn’t you, then who?”

  “Probably Miranda. She knows you don’t like her, so she wouldn’t have wanted to make waves.”

  “Yet she’s sticking her nose in my business.” Vaughn’s mood teetered between resigned and angry.

  “If it was her, then she was just trying to carry out the terms of your father’s will. Cut her a break.”

  “Forgive me if I’m not feeling particularly sympathetic toward Miranda right now.” He stabbed his finger at the paragraphs that had given him a sleepless night. “Do you think I’m like my father?”