Читать книгу Texas On My Mind - Delores Fossen - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

RILEY WAS SURE someone was watching him. Since this was downtown Spring Hill and not hostile territory, he wasn’t overly alarmed, but he could sense that someone had him under surveillance.

He glanced around Main Street at the line of shops and buildings, including the Fork and Spoon Café, the bank and the pharmacy where Riley had just picked up a refill of his oxycodone. The biggest building, however, was the two-story Victorian inn that Logan had converted into headquarters for the family business. Logan had added a new sign in the past six months. McCord Cattle Brokers was emblazed on a copper-and-brass background.

Classy.

But then Riley hadn’t expected anything less from Logan. His brother was a ball-busting Renaissance man in a four-hundred-dollar cowboy hat.

Since it was close to dinnertime, Riley hadn’t expected to see so many people milling around Main Street. None was especially looking at him, though he did get a friendly wave from Bert Starkley who was in the doorway of the café he owned.

He got a not-so-friendly look, however, from Misty. The woman was coming out of the bank, but when Misty laid eyes on him, she whirled around and went back in. Clearly he’d ruffled some feathers by refusing her help, but he preferred that to some of the TLC that was being offered.

Hell, Trisha had wanted to run his bath for him, and he didn’t think it was his imagination that she would have joined him in the sudsy oasis if he’d been agreeable. She’d also eyed that saddle on Lucky’s bed. Riley wasn’t in any shape for suds, saddles or Trisha.

“Want a cold glass of sweet tea?” Bert called out to Riley. “It’s on the house for our local military hero.”

“Thanks. If the offer’s still good tomorrow, I’ll take you up on it then,” Riley answered.

Maybe.

Riley made sure to smile. Hoped it didn’t look as forced and creepy as it felt, but it was something he was working on.

He still wasn’t in a socializing kind of mood, but he had needed a flat surface to walk so he could get in some exercise. Only every other step hurt now. Well, all of them hurt, but only one out of two made him see gigantic stars. Riley figured that was a good sign. What wasn’t a good sign was that he still needed lots of pain meds to get through every minute of every hour.

And then there were the flashbacks.

Since the bad one two nights ago, he’d kept them from trying to claw their way to the surface. “Jingle Bells” and a good mental boot stomping had worked. Temporarily. But he needed another weapon in his arsenal. Sex, maybe. Lately, he’d been thinking a lot about sex.

And Claire.

Too bad he’d been thinking about them at the same time.

When he got the niggling feeling again that he was being followed, Riley glanced quickly behind him and spotted the twins. Not exactly being stealth-like because he heard them giggling before they darted into their grandfather’s store. He hoped they’d stay there. He didn’t want to see any glimmer of a nipple.

“Just admiring the view,” one of them called out. And giggled again.

The view being his butt. Now, normally he would have been flattered by something like that, but if Wilbert found out that his backside was the object of his young granddaughters’ attention, then Riley would have one more riled citizen on his hands. He’d get that sweet tea all right—dumped on his head.

Riley picked up the pace in case the twins came in pursuit, and he ducked down the side street just as his phone rang. It was his sister, Anna, the one person he did want to have a talk with, and that’s why he’d already left her two messages. If she hadn’t been all the way over in Florida where she was attending college near her military fiancé, Riley would have gone after her for a face-to-face chat.

“Don’t you know I have certain skills that make it dangerous to piss me off?” Riley said when he answered.

“And how did I piss you off?” Anna didn’t pause, didn’t miss a beat, which meant she’d no doubt been expecting his surly protest.

“When I got home, I found two women in my bed.”

“Okay. And I guess you want to thank me for that?” she teased.

“No. They’re young women. Too young. And you sent a team of women to my house to babysit me.”

“I heard about you giving Della and Stella time off. I knew Logan would be busy because he’s, well, Logan, and Lucky is, well, Lucky. I couldn’t be there with you, so I made a few calls to let people know you’d be at the house. Alone. While recovering from an injury that could have killed you.”

Oh, man. Anna’s voice trembled on that last handful of words, and Riley felt the tremble tug right at his gut. “I’m okay.”

“Yes, because you got lucky. Don’t bullshit me. That shrapnel was just an inch from your heart.”

“Shrapnel I got because I was trying to rescue a kid from a very bad situation.” And that’s all he could and would say about it.

Jingle bells... Jingle bells...

Anna didn’t argue. Wouldn’t. But she wouldn’t just accept this, either, because she was his kid sister, and it was in her job description to worry about him and nag him. “Look, I’m not asking you to give up what you do. You love it. You’re good at it. And it’s you. I’m just asking for you to accept their help so you can recover.”

“I did accept help. Some. Those women stocked the fridge, brought over even more food. And Claire fixed me breakfast.” Which reminded him of something else he wanted to ask. “Claire’s got a kid. Why didn’t you tell me about that?”

“Because I thought it was something you’d eventually want to tell me. Ethan’s your son, right?”

Riley found himself cursing again. “Jesus H. No, he’s not. Why does everyone think that?”

Anna made a sound of mock contemplation. “Hmm. Maybe because it’s true?”

“It’s not. I’ve never had sex with Claire. She’s Daniel’s girl.”

“Yes,” Anna stretched that out a few syllables. “In high school, she was. I just figured you two had hooked up since then.”

“I can’t move in on a best friend’s girl even when the girl becomes an ex. That’s man-rule number three—never take anything that’s not yours.”

“Even when the relationship happened in high school?” No teasing tone this time. Just lots and lots of skepticism.

“Even then. It’s a forever and ever amen thing.”

“Sheez. Who makes up these stupid rules?” she asked.

“Men. Real men. Including me. Besides, Daniel might not be her ex. I’m thinking they’re back together and that he’s the kid’s father.”

“Did you ask Claire about that?”

Well, he hadn’t gotten a chance because she’d hung up on him. “It’s none of my business.”

More of those hmm-ing sounds. “But you’re curious or you wouldn’t have just asked me to gossip about it.”

“Man-rule again. It’s not gossip if the dirt comes from a sibling. Especially a sibling who owes her brother because said sibling unleashed a horde of horny females on him.”

“I’m not speculating about Claire, her sexual partners or her exes. But I’m scratching my head over that so-called rule and code. Men are idiots,” she concluded.

Perhaps in a woman’s mind, but it still made sense to Riley. Rules kept him grounded and marked his territory. Marked others’ territories, too. “You’re engaged to a man. One who no doubt has some codes and rules since he wears a uniform just like me. How’s Heath by the way?”

Even though he couldn’t see her face, he figured that got her to smile. “He’s enjoying me.”

Riley winced. “I don’t want to know that. You’re my kid sister, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re an eternal virgin.”

“Thank God you’re wrong about that. Heath’s enjoying me a lot. Oh, and his new instructor job. Surprised?”

Yeah, about the new job. But then maybe not. Since Heath Moore and Anna had gotten engaged, Heath had settled down some. That restless streak in him wasn’t so restless, and last Riley had spoken to Heath, he was talking about the possibility of them having a wedding as soon as Anna finished law school.

Riley wasn’t sure how a Combat Rescue Officer went from heart-stopping, life-on-the-line missions to being a fiancé with a desk job, but it had worked for Heath. Riley was thankful for it, too, since the happiness of both his sister, and future nieces and nephews was at stake.

“Tell Heath hello for me,” Riley said, ending the call, and he was still in the process of putting his phone away when he practically ran into the woman who was coming out of the side entrance of the What’s Old Is New antiques shop.

Trisha.

No brownies with her today. Nor was that a gobbling smile. Trisha gave him a cool glance instead. Still riled, apparently.

“Going to Claire’s?” she asked, also cool-ish.

“Huh?” Riley looked up, to see exactly where he was, and, yep, he was only about a half block from Claire’s place.

It wasn’t intentional. It was just the way the town was laid out. All roads here didn’t lead to Rome but rather to Claire’s grandmother’s old house.

“I’ve heard rumors,” Trisha said before he could say anything else. “I heard Claire isn’t really going to sell her grandmother’s house, that she’s too attached to it.”

All right. So not a rumor about his alleged fatherhood. And Riley had heard that same rumor about the house, as well, from the swing shift crew before he’d dismissed them.

“Understandable, I suppose,” Trisha went on, examining her nails. Then his crotch. “Claire loved her grandmother and was happy living there with her. I mean, after her mother dumped her and all.”

Yes, and all was a good way to sum up the emotional shit Claire had likely gone through. Not that she’d ever shared that with him. Claire wasn’t the shit-sharing type.

“I’m not sure how Daniel will feel about Claire staying here, though,” Trisha added. “He’d probably rather see her back at her place in San Antonio since it’s so close to where he lives.”

It seemed like a good time for Riley to answer with “Oh.” It was a noncommittal answer, didn’t really encourage gossip, but hearing anything about Daniel did pique his interest.

Trisha fluttered her perfectly manicured fingers toward the small shop across the street. Over the years, it’d been a bakery, a florist and a bookstore. All had come and gone, but there was no sign on the front now.

“That’s Daniel’s office,” she supplied. “He only uses it a couple of times a month when he’s showing property in the area, but he’s been using it a lot more since Claire returned.”

“So, they’re back together.” Riley hadn’t actually planned on saying that aloud, but he sort of had to say something when Trisha stopped talking.

“I’m not sure what’s going on between them. What does Claire say about it?”

“Not much.” Not to him anyway.

“What about you? Are you seeing anyone?” she asked. Another glance at his crotch.

Normally he wouldn’t have minded glances like that, but Riley nodded since those glances and her question seemed like the start of an invitation he didn’t want to get and wasn’t in any shape to accept.

“Yes, I’m seeing someone. Her name is Jodi.” It was an on-again, off-again relationship.

Mostly off.

Heck, who was he kidding?

It wasn’t on with Jodi even when they were together. She was a friend he had sex with. A no-strings-attached kind of friend, which suited them both just fine. Not that he was totally opposed to strings and rings, but in his experience most women didn’t want to get into a long relationship with a man whose job description included deployments into direct combat.

“Jodi’s a photographer,” Riley added just because he felt he should be adding something.

“A photographer, like Claire?” Trisha made a weird little sound that made this seem like a big coincidence.

Or no coincidence at all.

Nope, they weren’t going there. Plenty of people knew he’d been hung up on Claire, but that didn’t mean he chose facsimiles of her to take to bed.

“Jodi does combat photos for a couple of big magazines and newspapers.” The opposite of Claire, who shot wedding and engagement pictures. In fact, the only thing Jodi and Claire had in common was the general overall label of photographer. And the blond hair.

Yeah, the green eyes, too. But other than that, they were nothing alike.

Trisha blinked. “Oh.”

That had a liar-liar-pants-on-fire ring to it. One that Riley didn’t like much. Of course, there wasn’t much about this conversation he did like. “I thought you’d be back in Austin by now,” he threw out there.

“Not yet. I decided to take some time off to catch up with friends and make sure you’re doing as well as you claim. Besides, I can do most of my work from here anyway.” She moved an inch closer. “Riley, you know if you ever need my help or whatever, all you have to do is ask?”

He did know. He also knew what that whatever entailed, too. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

Liar-liar-pants-on-fire came in the form of a frown this time. “The offer stands.” The frown was still on her mouth when she checked her phone. “I should be going. Enjoy your visit with Claire.”

Since Trisha didn’t move and since she appeared to be waiting for him to head in Claire’s direction, that’s what Riley did after they exchanged cheek kisses, goodbyes and one final crotch glance.

Great day. Next time he needed to walk in the pastures. Or buy a treadmill. A ten-minute conversation with Trisha, and he’d spilled more than he should. He’d asked about Claire, and he was betting it wouldn’t take that long to hit the gossip mill. Riley was convinced that telepathy was involved, considering the staggering speed with which news got around Spring Hill.

And that was the reason he wasn’t going to stop by Claire’s.

If anyone saw him, and they would, it’d get back to Daniel, who’d think Riley was horning in on his woman and son.

Riley picked up the pace, intending to limp his way past Claire’s house, but when he was still within fifty feet, he heard a sound that had him slowing down so he could see what was going on.

Someone was crying.

The kid.

And not just ordinary crying—he was wailing as if he’d been hurt or something. That got Riley moving faster, and he hurried through the gate and into the front yard. Ethan was sitting on the porch of the old Craftsman-style house, and Claire had stooped down in front of him and was trying to console him.

“Is he hurt?” Riley shouted. He stomped down the flashback. Not now. “Jingle Bells” had to get the mojo working and fast.

Claire snapped toward him, clearly not expecting the sound of his voice or his presence in her yard. She didn’t scream this time, but Riley could tell he’d given her another jolt.

Well, she’d given him a bit of one, too. Sadly, just the sight of her could do that to him. Maybe she was the cure for flashbacks.

“No. Ethan’s not hurt,” Claire answered. “He broke his favorite car, that’s all.”

Sheez Louise, that was a lot of loud crying for a car, especially since there were about fifty others on the porch. But Riley soon saw why this particular one had caused tears. It was a vintage red Corvette. Even as a toy, it had plenty of sentimental value, and Ethan seemed to get that even though he was just a kid.

With a part sigh, part huff coming from her mouth, Claire stooped even lower so she could give Ethan a kiss on the cheek. No shorts for her today. Instead, she was wearing a denim skirt and a top. Barefoot. And with the way she was stooping, he could see her pink panties.

Trisha wasn’t the only one whose gaze wandered in the wrong direction.

Riley reacted all right. He felt that stirring behind his zipper. Felt his testosterone soar past normal levels.

He glanced around, mainly because he needed to get his attention off her underwear, and he pretended to look at the house. It was in serious need of a paint job, and the white picket fence needed repairs, but the place had always had good bones. However, something was missing.

“No cats?” Riley asked. There’d been at least a half dozen around when her grandmother was alive.

“Gran gave them away when she got sick.”

Too bad because Claire had always loved them, and apparently it’d been one of the tipping points for her choosing Daniel.

“Ix it, peas,” Ethan said, holding out the car to Riley.

It took Riley a moment to work out the translation: fix it, please. The car was in three pieces, and Riley took them with all the reverence that a vintage car like that deserved.

“You don’t need to trouble yourself,” Claire insisted. “Just sit down and relax. You look exhausted.”

Judging from the cardboard box and its contents scattered on the porch, she had been going through her grandmother’s things, and she pushed some of the items aside to make room for Riley.

“I can get Ethan another car like that the next time I go to the store,” she added.

But the fat tears rolling down Ethan’s cheeks let Riley know the kid didn’t want a new one. Riley eased down onto the porch next to him and tried to remember how he’d repaired his own toy cars after he’d given them a good bashing. After all, what else was a kid to do with toy cars other than create a perpetual stream of wrecks, increasing the gore of those wrecks with each new play session?

“Got any superglue?” Riley asked her.

Claire nodded, moved as if to go inside, but then stopped. “Really, you don’t have to do this.”

Riley couldn’t be positive, but he thought maybe this had something to do with his walking-wounded status. Something that automatically put his teeth on edge. “Just get the glue.”

Hard for his teeth to stay on edge though when she ran inside, leaving him alone with the kid. Ethan looked up at him. “Ix it?”

“I’ll sure try.” Riley glanced around at the other cars, but he soon spotted what had likely caused the damage. Several big-assed action figures. He wasn’t certain who or what they were supposed to be, but they looked like a mix of the Grim Reaper, Cyclops and Mick Jagger. With big-assed lips and wings.

“Here you go,” Claire said when she came racing back out.

Riley took the glue and tipped his head to the action figures. “Your idea?” Because they darn sure didn’t seem like something Claire would buy.

“No. Livvy, my business partner, is responsible. She took Ethan to the toy store for his second birthday and told him he could pick out anything he wanted. He wanted those. They’re supposed to be some kind of protectors of the universe.”

Riley nodded. “Good choice.”

Ethan grinned. The man-pact was back on, and the kid seemed to have forgiven him or at least forgotten about the hidden cookie caper.

“Why are you out here anyway?” Claire asked.

“Walking is part of my physical therapy.” Riley squirted the first dollop of glue to get the rear axle back in place. “I just saw Trisha by the antiques shop. She said Daniel’s got an office here in town.”

Riley wasn’t going to win any awards for being subtle, but he figured it wouldn’t take more than a minute or two for the car repairs, and then he wouldn’t have any reason to stay. Any good reason anyway.

“Yes, he does,” Claire answered.

Clearly not chatty today. Riley went in a slightly different direction. “I guess Daniel did that so he could see you. And Ethan.”

She didn’t huff, but that’s exactly what she looked as if she wanted to do. “You know how you don’t want to talk about your injury or the pain? Well, I don’t want to talk about Daniel. Deal?”

Since she was as testy as he was, it was best to let it drop. Besides, it really wasn’t his business, only idle curiosity as to why the kid looked more like Riley than any real kid of his probably would.

Best to move on to a different conversation thread. “How’s the box sorting going?”

The sigh that left her mouth was one of frustration. So, testy, nontalkative and frustrated. Oh, yeah, this was a good visit, but at least the car repairs were going well.

“I’m still looking for the letter Gran mentioned on the calendar. I have no idea what was in it or even if it was from her.”

Riley glanced at the stack of letters that’d been tied together with white ribbon. “It’s not one of those?”

Another sigh. Man, he was picking at scabs today. “No. Those are from various men,” Claire said, her forehead bunching up. “Gran was obviously, um, popular. It’s strange to learn she had so many things going on in her life that I never knew about.”

Apparently that was a pattern Claire was continuing to follow when it came to her son’s paternity. Riley frowned. He really needed to get his mind on something else. Heck, the memory of her pink panties flash was better than this.

“I brought down more boxes from the attic, and I’ve got at least twenty others to go through,” she went on. “Maybe I’ll find the letter in one of them.”

“Maybe she decided not to give it to you,” Riley suggested. “Or she could have lost it.”

He’d dropped in that last idea only because the first one sounded kind of sinister, as if the letter might be so god-awful that her grandmother had decided Claire shouldn’t see it after all.

“I think it might have been from my mother.” Claire didn’t look at him. She suddenly got very interested in picking at the nonexistent lint on her skirt. “Or my father.”

From her mother, yes, he could understand that. The woman had ditched Claire and then had died a while later. Not in a clean, it’s-your-time kind of way, either. She’d gotten drunk, thrown up and had choked to death on her own vomit. But Claire’s father was a different matter.

“Do you even know who your father is?” Riley asked.

She shook her head. Didn’t add anything else. Apparently, any talk involving fatherhood was off the table. In this case, that wasn’t a bad thing.

From what Riley had heard, her father had never been in her life and had left her mother before Claire was even born. That made the man lower than pig shit, and as a kid Riley had often thought about what it would be like to punch the idiot for doing that.

His own parents had disappeared from his life when he was a teenager, but that’s because they’d been killed by a drunk driver—an accident that Claire knew about all too well since she’d been in the vehicle.

And was the sole survivor.

Being in the backseat had saved her from dying in the head-on collision. The drunk driver had died on impact. His parents, shortly thereafter.

It had hardly been his parents’ choice to leave. And despite the fact he’d been planning to go out of state for college, Riley hadn’t left, either. He’d stayed at home with Logan to help raise his then fourteen-year-old sister and Lucky. Though Lucky had been Logan’s age, only younger by a few minutes, he had still required some raising.

Along with occasional bail money.

Heck, Lucky still required occasional bail money.

Riley had wanted nothing more than to get out of town fast and find his destiny, but instead he’d gone to college in nearby San Antonio to be closer to Anna until she turned eighteen and headed off to her own college choice. Logan had taken it a step further and even dropped out of the University of Texas to be home. It was just something family would do for family.

Unlike Claire’s scummy parents.

Riley added the last bit of glue to put the car’s hood back in place and blew on it so it would dry. It didn’t take long, and he examined his repair job before he handed it to Ethan. However, Ethan reached for it first and missed, and his hard little hand bashed right into Riley’s shoulder.

Riley bit back the thousand really bad curse words that bubbled up in this throat. The pain exploded in his head, and it was a good thing he was sitting, or it would have brought him to his knees.

“Sor-wee,” Ethan blurted out.

Riley wanted to lie and say it was okay. No sense making the kid feel bad for an accident, but he was having trouble gathering enough breath to speak. However, he did manage to utter a “shit.”

“Sugar,” Claire corrected. She scrambled toward him, and before Riley could stop her, she started unbuttoning his shirt. “Here, let me take a look.”

“Are you qualified to do that?” he grumbled.

“Sure. I’ve been looking all my life.”

Riley appreciated the smartass-ness, but he knew it wouldn’t last. And it didn’t. When Claire eased back the bandage on his shoulder, the color drained from her face. Every last rosy drop. He didn’t have to see the raw, angry gash to know that she was about to lose her lunch.

“God, Riley,” she said on a rise of breath. A breath that landed right against his neck.

Apparently, there was a semicure for blistering pain after all, and it was Claire’s breathing. Of course, it helped that her mouth was now plenty close to his. Close enough to kiss...if he’d been in any state to kiss her, that was.

He wasn’t.

Did that make the desire go away? Nope. Which meant this situation with Claire could turn out to be trouble.

“Sugar,” she said. And then she added other words. Fudge and divinity. Substitutions for the kid’s sake probably. “I didn’t know you were hurt this bad.”

Even though every movement throbbed like hell, Riley jerked his shirt back together and even managed to do some of the buttons. “We agreed not to talk about this, remember?”

“Yes.” Claire cleared her throat. “I’m not sure I can hear it anyway. It hurts too much to think about it.”

And he couldn’t take that look on her face. Pity. Something he divinity sure didn’t want.

“I’m all right,” he told Ethan. Riley forced a smile that possibly looked even creepier than his earlier one since the muscles in his face were stretched tight. “My shoulder just needed some fixing like your car, but it’s better now.”

No way did the kid believe that. No way could Riley take the time to convince him, either. Not with the pain still shooting through him. Plus, he felt a flashback coming on, and he didn’t want to have one of those in front of the kid.

Not in front of anybody.

He fished through his pocket, grabbed the new bottle of meds and downed a couple of them, somehow managing to get to his feet in the process. “Better go. These knock me out pretty fast.”

Still pale, still looking at him as if he were the most pitiful creature on earth, Claire stood. “You want me to drive you home? It’s nearly a half mile, and that’s too far for you to walk—”

“No, thanks.” Riley was already off the porch and into the yard when he heard the footsteps hurrying after him. Not Claire. But Ethan.

“Sor-wee,” Ethan repeated and he held up one of the winged action figures. He took Riley’s hand and put the toy in it. “For you.”

Well, that was far more touching than Riley had ever thought it would be. The kid had a good heart. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine. You don’t have to give me your toy.”

But Riley was talking to himself because Ethan gave him a little wave and raced back toward the porch.

Riley felt a tug of a different kind. Something akin to the same feelings he’d had with his kid sister when he’d helped raise her. A stupid tug in this case because Ethan wasn’t his to raise.

Even if everyone in town thought he was.

Yeah, the whole situation with Claire was definitely trouble. So much so that even “Jingle Bells” might not work on this one.