Princess of the Plains
Page 8
Laughing, Tate took a quick sip of his beer. “Now, I know you don't mean that the way it sounded.”
“I'd break your other leg if you took it that way.” But there was a tone of amusement in Joseph's voice that let Tate know he'd said it that way on purpose. “Cady is a physical therapist, but more than that, she's got some hoodoo and homeopathy in her. If you ever want her to take a look at that leg, you call me. She's gifted. She got me walking again after the doctors said never.”
“I know she’s gifted,” he said. “I saw the way she and Lucy worked together. Must be cool to have abilities like that.”
“Not always, but a lot of the time.” Joseph looked out at the field and his wife looked up at the same time, smiling again. “Look, offer’s genuine. If you need to try a new route, let Cady help. She’s licensed, too, in traditional PT. I always want people to be happy with their progress. I know I wouldn’t be where I am today without her.”
Nodding, Tate offered a hand. “I’ll think on it, man. Right now, I’m happy with all my decisions. If that changes in the future, I’ll let you know.”
“Good. Excuse me? I think there are few McCoys that need herding.”
Tate shooed him away wordlessly and found Fatima running after a kid instead of a frisbee, and laughed. She wrangled the kid and ran over to him after depositing him with his proper parent.
“Why are you laughing?”
“Because you’re funny. I thought you were playing ultimate frisbee.”
Giving him a one-shouldered shrug, she smirked. “The kids wanted the frisbees and the game is a little rough to have them under foot.”
“Take a walk with me?”
The grin spread across Fatima’s face and she stood up. “Yes. I’d love that.”
Hoisting himself off the bench and grabbing the cane, he slipped his hand into hers, and they headed up the walk toward the Colorado. It was nice to just hold her hand and walk with no pressure. It seemed she was just fine with walking at his pace, and looking around. She was certainly enjoying the view and taking in the scenery.
“Y’all don’t have rivers in New Jersey?”
Chuckling, she shook her head. “We do. Beautiful ones. But we don’t have this kind of weather there. It’s getting cold by now, and the trees would have lost their leaves. It’s not as desert-like as this. It’s stark in the winter, and it has a certain...maudlin beauty with the naked trees reaching up for a pale white sky through the chilly air.”
“Sounds like Poe would have loved it.”
“Edgar Allen Poe lived in Philadelphia for a few years. He had a house there. I’ve been.”
“Now, that’s cool.”
“Philadelphia is a pretty cool town, to see where Washington fought and Jefferson wrote the Declaration. Ben Franklin’s house. Independence Hall. Turn a corner there and you’re likely to come across something historical, even in the not-so-great areas. And the food? Oh, to die for. So many amazing restaurants.” She looked over at him, thinking as they walked. “Why don’t you come visit sometime? It’s worth it.”
“Maybe someday.”
Suddenly she became animated. “We could also go to the city!”
“Wait… isn’t Philadelphia a city?”
“Well, yes...but when you live in New Jersey, unless you live in Philly suburbs, ‘the city’ refers to New York.”
Tate shook his head. “Oh, I am not prepared for that. I think I’m too Texan to go there.”
“They have a Houston Street…”
“Say that again?”
“Hous-tan.” She laughed. “It’s how they say it. If you say Hyou-ston there, you’re not from the city. A lot of people learn that quick. It’s not a bad thing, but it’s funny to see a New Yorker turn on their tour guide.”
He moved them close to the river bank so he could see the water trickling by. “It sounds crowded.”
“It’s a vertical city. Up and down. Oh, please think about coming up and visiting. I love taking people to all the cool places in the city.”
He leaned on the railing and studied her face, pulling her between his legs. “Well, if I got to spend time with you, I’d think about it.”
“Me, and me alone most of the time.”
He kissed her forehead. “Well, I guess I could think about it. It sounds like it would be wonderful.”
“It would.”
She looked up into his eyes and he saw all of her there, laid bare for him to study. And he did. He’d never met anyone like Fatima, ever. She was a princess who preferred to be neck deep in horse mucking, and helping animals heal. There was nothing she couldn’t do. She was amazing, and he still felt like he was holding her back. The arthritis, and now the slow-to-heal leg. Why was someone this beautiful with him?
He distracted himself. “What are the plans for the evening?”
“Well, Lucy was talking about mini golf. Would you be up for that?”
“I already have a club.” He held up the cane.
“Ha, nice! So, you're good with it? Remember we can always ditch if you're just too tired.”
“No, let's do it.”
She gave him a quick peck on the lips, and he quirked an eyebrow. “Hey.”
“It was just a quick kiss. We're not doing anything sexy right now. I can kiss you. I just can't rip your clothes off and have my way with you. Yet.”
“Qualifying it?”
“I want you well, as well as you can be. And if that means no hanky panky and hijinks for a few weeks, well. I always have Bob.”
He didn't like the sound of that. “Bob?”
The laughter was an unladylike snort. “Relax. Battery operated boyfriend.”
Shaking his head, Tate felt relief. “Battery operated. So I'm reduced to a silicone shape with batteries?”
“Well, mine is actually rechargeable and waterproof.”
“Damn!” There was no stopping the laugh. “Out done by modern technology.”
“There's nothing like the real thing,” she soothed him.
This was trouble. He gave her a kiss and pushed her back a bit. “Nope. Getting close to—”
“Yup, yup.” Fatima cleared her throat. “Agreed. So are you—”
The text alert on his phone went off and they stepped apart. Pulling out the phone, he looked at the message on the front. Delivery complete. Retrieve at leisure. Tapping the side of the phone with his finger, Tate briefly thought about ditching the mini golf that night. But, in the end, he did want to spend time with Fatima and it would be fun.
“I have to go after mini golf tonight. Got a package I have to grab from a friend.”
Fatima nodded. “As long as we get to golf. I want to see you kick ass.”
“I plan on it. A game you'll never forget.”
* * *
The whole course was hushed. Tate stared down the green at the hazards, then walked around them one more time. It was deceptive. It looked like an easy par three, but it wasn't. Even Fatima could see there was a slope that could get the ball stuck in the back.
He lined up his shot, and took a deep breath. He hit it—Fatima gasped as loudly as her sister. She was sure he’d hit it too hard, but the ricochet proved them both wrong. A few bounces around the back green and the neon green ball plunked into the hole.
“Oh my God!” Piper yelled. “Perfect game!”
Tate spun the club in his hand and tossed it at Tennessee. “Pay up, buddy. That was a hundred dollars I believe.”
“You bet a hundred dollars?!” Molly cried. “Against a perfect game, from the Texas Juniors Mini Golf Champion?”
“The what?” Tennessee asked.
Molly looked at Tate. “And you didn't tell him?!”
Tate looked completely pleased with himself. “I take my advantages where I can get them. He didn’t ask, I didn’t offer.”
“Ask?” Tennessee stared at him. “I didn’t even know that mini golf was a real sport!”
Tate made like he’d been shot in the heart. “You cut
me, man. You cut me. And you owe me a Benjamin.”
Fatima laughed as Tennessee pulled out his wallet, grumbling. There was so more to this new Tate; she was completely head over heals for him now. Delighted by his deception, she leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek. She wanted to keep this guy around forever.
“Alright, fine,” Tennessee grumbled.
“Who wants to go for ice cream?” Molly looked around, and pointed at Tate. “Your treat.”
“That’s sneaky.” Tate grinned at her. “I’d love to go, but I really gotta call it a night. The leg is exhausted and I need to rest before I screw it up again.”
Fatima wrapped her arms around his neck, draping them there. “Do you mind if I go with them?”
“You don’t need my permission—”
“I’d rather have it because I’m also perfectly happy to go home and snuggle with you.”
He pushed the hundred into her hand. “Go. Take them. Pay for the ice cream. But not Ten’s. He has to pay for his own.”
“Hey!”
Tate let out an evil little laugh, and started to the car. Fatima ran after him, and walked with him. “Everything good, Tate?”
He grinned. “Fine. Best day in a long time. I’m glad you were here with me.”
“I am too. I think that we should head back out to the Balcones when you’re up to it and check out some more isolated spots.”
His laugh was really a wonderful thing to hear. “Maybe, someday.”
“And you’re okay to drive?”
“The leg is tired but nothing I can’t deal with. Once it get home everything will be fine.”
Leaning against his car, she pulled him in close. “You’re sure you don't want me to go with you?”
“Positive. You go pay for their ice cream and rub it in that Tennessee got duped by me.”
It was unbelievable how much she found herself laughing at his words and his sarcasm now. Fatima really wanted to get used to it. She gave him a slow, sweet kiss and stood from her lean on the door. “You’re an amazing human, Tate Verhoven. Don’t you forget that.” She popped the door open.
He pulled it as wide as it would go and dropped himself into the front seat. “I’ll see you later, Fatima. Be good?”
“I’m only naughty around you.”
He pulled the door closed and waved—and for some reason, Fatima imagined there were tears in his eyes. Weird.
Waiting until he was gone from the lot, she headed over to where the group of McCoys and Millers were waiting for her. She climbed into the car with RJ and Lucy and they took off for the ice cream store.
“How is he doing?” Rj asked, making the right out of the lot.
“Good. Really good. He’s more the man I remember from when we first got here. He seems happy and I know the leg is still hurting, but he does well with it.”
“Tate is one of my oldest friends, and I have to say, I have never seen him as happy as he was today.” RJ tossed a look over his shoulder. “Thank you for that. Thank you for making him that happy. Nothing in his or Caldwell’s lives has been easy—you seem to make it all a little better.”
Fatima sighed dreamily “I’m totally in love with him.” Sputtering, she realized what she said. “I mean, I think I am. I could be. It’s not out of the realm—”
“Fatima?” Lucy glanced at her in the mirror.
“Yes?”
“Shut up. We all know you’re in love.” She looked out the window, and there was no missing the next statement she mumbled. “Just was wondering which one you would pick.”
“What?” Fatima snapped at her.
RJ slapped her arm and shook his head. Lucy cleared her throat and stared straight ahead.
“Lucia. O que você acabou de dizer?”
Lucy cleared her throat. “Well, I mean… it was easy to see that you have the hots for both of the Verhoven brothers. And they are both hot for you. So I was just wondering if you were going to pick one or the other or go for a deal like Ryder has.”
Fatima slumped back in the car, and folded her arms. “Tate. I picked Tate a long time ago. Caldwell is hot, and I know he likes me, but Tate—he’s always been my choice.”
RJ grunted. “Lucy, you have to learn not to mumble under your breath.”
“Bite me, RJ.”
Grabbing her arm, he playfully bit at her hand. RJ was good at defusing situations. That was certainly a situation that needed it. Leave it to Lucy to say something like that.
Still, she couldn’t get the comment out of her mind. How many other people had been waiting for her to make a choice she didn’t even know she had to make? Had Caldwell been waiting? Even worse, had Tate been waiting? It wasn’t the kind of situation she ever wanted to be in, basically pitting brother against brother for her. She wasn’t anyone special. Lucy was the first born, and she was the Princess, to the hilt. She was also gifted. Aureliano was the son, the prince, the heir. Marcia was the business woman. Sofia was the artist. She was just Fatima. Even in school, she’d had to suffer through the nickname, “Fat.” College was the chance to put that to rest, but there were still friends who called her that. She wasn’t thin, so it wasn’t easy to hear. But why, of all the women in Texas, would two of the hottest men she’d ever met vie for her? It was beyond her own comprehension.
Worse, the rest of the night she was going to be thinking about it, and Caldwell was going to be watching her.
She knew she was going to watch him, too.
God, they’d had sex in the barn. How was she ever going to forget that?
She just wanted to crawl into a hole.
Chapter Ten
The whole night, all Fatima had done was think about her and Caldwell in the barn that day. Her and Tate at the Balcones. Back and forth, back and forth.
She wanted Tate.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to give up Caldwell.
Everything was so damn confusing. It got so bad she decided she needed to go back to Big Butte and see Tate. It wasn’t that late, just about ten thirty at night. He’d still be up, and she just wanted to talk to him.
Sighing, she admitted the truth to herself: she wanted to make sure that she had made the right decision.
Fatima walked into the house through the kitchen and found it eerily quiet. With all the rambunctious boys, and horses, and cattle—well, just being near The McCoys really—the house should have been alive with noise on a Friday night. She didn’t think she had driven that fast from the ice cream parlor, but there was no one around.
She had seen Tate's car in the driveway, so he had to have been there. But glancing around the kitchen, there were no signs that anyone had been for quite sometime. The dishes were all put away, the lights had been off, the pots were clean and the stove was cold.
She walked into the living room and found the TV not only dark but cool. Tee brushed her hand over the couch cushions and realized they hadn't been sat on in sometime as well.
Fatima didn't like this. Tate had said he was going home. His car was there, and the crutches were at the bottom of the stairs. But there was no sign of him.
“Tate!” She called into the empty house. Backtracking to the kitchen, she tried to find a note, and checked her phone again for missed text messages.
Still nothing.
Walking up the creaky stairs, Tee meandered through the halls, calling his name. The further she walked into the house, the less evidence that anyone had been there for hours. Everything was dark and cold and shut down. Doors and windows were shuttered, and it felt like even the heat had been turned down.
She finally arrived at Tate’s room at the far end of the ranch. His door was shut, so she knocked calling his name. “Tate? Are you in there? if I'd known you were going to be home alone, I would have invited you out with us.”
There was no answer. She knocked again, then rattled the door knob. discovering the door was unlocked, Fatima proceeded to push it open into another dark, cool, shuttered room. the only light was from the driveway
flood light, and the small night light in the bathroom.
It was enough to see the body on the floor.
“Tate?”
Scooting across the rug and landing next to him, she immediately grabbed for his wrist and check for a pulse. Faint and thread, it was there. Tee leaned down into his ear and screamed his name again. “Tate! Oh, come on, Tate, wake up! Wake up!”
She scooped her hand under his neck and lifted him to her lap. His head lolled to one side, and an instant later, he vomited a horrifying pink foam. The foam was also laced with pieces and chunks of what looked like pills.
“Holy shit, what have you done? TATE!”
He groaned and more vomit came up. Tee grabbed her phone from her pocket and desperately stabbed in the numbers 9-1-1.
“Travis County 9-1-1. What is your emergency?”
“My boyfriend took pills. He’s dying! He’s throwing up foam and blood. Oh, God, Tate! Come on!”
“Ma’am, what’s the address?”
Tee realized she had no idea what the address at the ranch was. “I don’t know. It’s the Verhoven ranch, in Nameless. It’s Tate Verhoven. Please, I’m sorry. I can run and see what the address is—”
“No, ma’am that’s not necessary. We all know the Verhoven ranch. I’m going to stay on the phone with you, and you talk to me.”
“He’s so pale. His skin is clammy.”
“Is he breathing?”
Leaning her head down to his nose, she could hear the barest breath hissing in and out, his mouth making an awful gurgling noise. “He is, but it sounds like he’s drowning.”
“That’s okay for now, as long as he’s breathing. Can you find a heartbeat?”
“I did, I did. It’s really low though. It took me too many seconds to find it.”
“As long as we have those two things, we’re not going to lose hope. What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Fatima da Silva.”
“You have an accent, Fatima. Where are you from?”
“New Jersey.”
“You’re here visiting?”
“We were supposed to buy horses…”
There was a pause while the line went quiet. Tee looked at Tate’s pale face, and the cold sweat that was rolling down his forehead. His hands were curling up, and he was digging his nails into his palm. She watched his eyes spasm behind his lids. “Jesus Christ, please tell me someone—”