Читать книгу Diana Palmer Texan Lovers - Diana Palmer - Страница 13

Calhoun was gone when Abby got home, and she spent a quiet afternoon watching television. Justin was around long enough to ask about the apartment and to approve Abby’s choice of lodgings. But then he left to deal with some problem at the feedlot.

Abby dreaded the moment when Calhoun would return, because of what had happened that morning. She couldn’t reconcile the man she knew with the stranger who’d been so rough with her. Boys had kissed her before, but lightly and carefully. Calhoun hadn’t been careful, and he’d frightened her with his experience. She’d never experienced adult passion before, and she didn’t know what it was. But surely a man like Calhoun, with his love life, couldn’t have been thrown off balance so completely by a twenty-year-old virgin.

He’d already said he didn’t want her making eyes at him, so maybe he was showing her what she’d be inviting if she let him see her interest. She shivered. What a deft and accurate way he’d picked, if that were the case.

Supper was on the table and she and Justin were about to start serving themselves when Calhoun came in. He sat down, looking worn and rumpled, and poured himself a cup of coffee. He didn’t speak to Abby, and she kept her head down so that he wouldn’t notice her scarlet flush. It wasn’t necessary, anyway, because he didn’t even look at her. He started talking to Justin about a prospective new feedlot customer he’d found, and he kept the conversation going until they were having a second cup of coffee. Abby felt shut out and ignored. When Calhoun finally got up to leave and looked at her, she felt worse than she had in her life.

There was barely controlled anger in his eyes, mingled with something darker, something she didn’t understand. She dropped her eyes and felt her heart race under his cold scrutiny. He acted as if she were the guilty one. Didn’t he realize how he’d hurt her? That his treatment of her had been frightening?

“Hey,” Justin said softly as the outside door opened and closed.

She looked up, her eyes faintly misty. “He didn’t even speak to me,” she whispered.

Justin leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette, exhaling smoke as he watched her. “He’s been like that all day,” he said. “While you were gone he stared out the window whenever I tried to talk to him. He didn’t even hear me. Finally he lit a cigarette and went outside and just walked.”

She stared at him. “Calhoun stopped smoking years ago.”

He shrugged. “He’s gone through a pack already. You keep telling me that there’s nothing wrong, but my brother goes from bad to worse. Now either you tell me or I’ll beat it out of him. I love him, but I’ve had enough silence.”

Abby swallowed hard. Justin’s tone was unnerving. But she couldn’t tell him what Calhoun had done. Justin was unpredictable, and she didn’t want him to rake Calhoun over the coals for something that in all honesty she’d helped to provoke.

Then she remembered what she’d said to Calhoun, and suddenly all the pieces of the puzzle fit together. She must have hurt Calhoun’s pride with what she’d said and done after he’d kissed her so intimately. The more she thought about it, the worse she felt. For months she’d dreamed of having him kiss her. Then he had, and she’d been too frightened by his experienced bulldozer technique to even respond. She’d behaved like a child.

Justin lifted an eyebrow and waited expectantly. When she didn’t say anything, he prodded, “Well?”

“I said some terrible things to him,” she confessed finally. “I was jealous.”

“And hurt,” he said perceptively.

“And hurt,” she sighed. Her blue-gray eyes met his dark ones. “Oh, Justin, he hates me. And I can’t even blame him. I hurt his pride so badly that I don’t imagine he’ll ever talk to me again.”

“Incredible, isn’t it, that you could hurt him,” he mused. “When women have been trying for years to get through that thick hide and never have.”

“He’s been responsible for me for a long time,” she said quietly. “I guess it’s hard for him to let go.”

“Maybe,” he said. He took another draw on the cigarette. “Maybe not. He’s acting strangely lately.”

“Maybe he’s got the gout or something,” she suggested with a slight smile.

“Or something.”

She sipped her coffee so that she’d have something to do with her hands. She had to talk to Justin about Friday night, and it was only just dawning on her how difficult it was going to be.

“Justin, I have to tell you something.”

His dark eyebrows lifted. “This sounds serious,” he said with a faint smile.

“It is. And I hope you won’t get mad at me.”

His chin lifted. “Is it about the Jacobses?”

“I’m afraid so,” she sighed. She looked at her coffee, because his eyes were getting darker by the second. “Tyler asked me to a square dance Friday night, and I said I’d go.” She clenched her teeth, waiting for the outburst. When it didn’t come, she looked up. He was watching her, but without any particular anger. She continued quickly, “I don’t have to let him pick me up here. I can meet him at the dance. In fact, Shelby did her best to stop him from asking me, because she didn’t want to upset you.”

Something passed across his face, too fleeting to identify. But for one wild second his eyes were soft and quiet and full of wonder. Then it was gone, and he stared down at his glowing cigarette. “Did she?”

“She didn’t want Tyler to make any trouble,” Abby said gently.

“It’s been six years,” he said after a minute, his face quiet and oddly gentle. “Six long, empty years. I’ve hated her, and I’ve hated the family. I guess I could go on hating them until we’re all dead. But it wouldn’t change anything. It’s all over and done with, a long time ago.”

“She’s so lovely,” Abby said.

Justin winced, and there were memories in his dark eyes, in his taut face. He crushed out his cigarette roughly. “Tyler can pick you up here,” he said abruptly, and got to his feet. “I won’t give him a hard time.”

She looked up as he passed by her chair and then down at her cup, thoughtfully. “She lives like a nun, you know. Tyler says she hasn’t dated anyone for years.”

Abby thought he stopped then, just for a second, but it might have been her imagination, because he kept walking and he didn’t say a word.

What a pity, Abby thought with quiet melancholy, that love could die so violent a death. And the saddest part of it was that in spite of what Justin said, she’d have bet Justin and Shelby were still madly in love, even though it had been six years since they’d broken up. What had Shelby done to make Justin turn against her so vehemently? Surely just being given back his engagement ring wouldn’t make a man so vindictive!

Abby got up from the table and went to her room. It was much too early to go to bed, but she didn’t relish the idea of staying downstairs and having Calhoun stare holes through her. Avoiding him had suddenly become imperative.

That wasn’t too hard. But avoiding the memories that lingered in her room was. The wall where he’d pinned her with his big body and kissed the breath out of her was all too empty. In the end she pushed a bookcase against it, just to keep her mind from replaying the scene.

She went to work as usual for the rest of the week, and so did Calhoun. But there was a difference. There was no soft greeting, no smile, no teasing grin. This Calhoun was more and more like his older brother. The fun had gone out of him, leaving behind a hard, formidable businessman who alternately ignored Abby or chewed her out for any nervous mistakes she made. It was impossible to get near him, even to talk.

By quitting time on Friday, she was a nervous wreck. She looked forward to the square dance like a doomed prisoner coveting an appeal. At least the dance would get her out of the house and take her mind off Calhoun. Not that she expected him to be home on a weekend. He’d probably be up in Houston with his model. Abby gritted her teeth as she thought about that.

Hindsight was a sad thing, Abby reflected, and she’d only begun to realize why Calhoun had been out of control with her in the bedroom. It hadn’t been because he was angry or because he was punishing her. He’d been out of control because he’d wanted her. She was almost sure of it now, having asked Misty some subtle but intimate questions about men. Calhoun had wanted her, and she’d stabbed his pride bloody. She could have cried, because she’d had his attention and hadn’t even known it. He was well and truly cured now. He didn’t speak to her unless he had to, and he avoided her like the plague. She was glad she’d had that room reserved at the boarding house, because she had a feeling she was going to need it any time now.

She dressed in a red-checked full skirt with several crinolines and a perky white blouse with puffy short sleeves and a button front. It was almost March, but it was still cold, and she got out her long tan coat to wear with it. Tyler was due at six, and it was almost that when she went downstairs, her long hair silky and clean around her shoulders, wearing just enough makeup to give her a rosy-cheeked glow. She’d never wished more that she was blond or that she could have a second chance with Calhoun. Just her luck, she thought miserably as she made her way down the staircase, to foul everything up on the first try. Why hadn’t she realized that Calhoun felt passion, not anger? Why hadn’t she waited to give him a chance to be tender? He probably would have been if she hadn’t struggled with him.

She reached the bottom of the staircase just in time to watch Calhoun open the front door for Tyler, because Maria and Lopez had the night off. Abby’s heart jumped helplessly at the sight of those broad shoulders and that long back. Calhoun was so big he even towered over Tyler.

Abby’s body tensed as she wondered if Justin had told Calhoun she’d be going out with Tyler. But he finally opened the door all the way and let the other man inside.

Tyler, in jeans and a red checked Western shirt and bandanna and denim jacket, looked as Western as a man could get, from his black boots to his black hat. Calhoun was dressed in a similar fashion, except that his shirt was blue. They stared at each other for a long moment before Calhoun broke the silence.

“Justin said you were taking Abby out,” he said tersely. “You can wait in the living room if you like.”

“Thanks,” Tyler said, equally tersely, as he met Calhoun’s eyes and glanced away.

“I’m already dressed,” Abby said with forced cheerfulness, smiling at Tyler and getting a smile back. She didn’t look at Calhoun. She couldn’t. It would have been like putting a knife in her heart.

“Then let’s go,” Tyler replied. “I hear the Jones boys are going to play tonight. You remember Ted Jones, Calhoun; he was in our senior class back in high school.”

“I remember him,” Calhoun said quietly. There was a smoking cigarette in his hand, and he looked like a stranger.

A minute later, Justin came out of his study, stopping short when he saw the three of them. He and Calhoun were wearing almost identical clothing, and it was odd for Justin to dress up on a Friday night. Unless…

“Where are you off to?” Abby asked the oldest of the three men with a smile.

“The square dance, of course,” Justin said, glancing at Tyler. “Not to keep tabs on her, in case you were wondering,” he added with a cold smile. “We’re meeting a business contact there.”

Abby’s heart jumped. Calhoun was going to the dance, too. She hated her own helpless pleasure at the thought that she might have at least a few minutes in his arms.

Tyler studied Justin warily. “You aren’t meeting Fred Harriman, by any chance?”

Justin’s eyebrows arched. “Yes. Why?”

Tyler grimaced. “He just bought our place.”

Calhoun caught his breath. “For God’s sake, you weren’t forced out?”

“I’m afraid so,” Tyler replied with a sigh. “Funny, you never think you’ll go under. I was sure that I could undo the damage Dad had done, but I was too late. At least it’s not a complete loss. We’ve still got a couple of stallions, and we can hold on to at least the house and an acre or two of land.”

“If you need a job, we’ve got one open at the feedlot,” Justin said unexpectedly. “It’s not charity, damn it,” he added when he saw Tyler’s incredulous look and glinting green eyes. “I don’t have to like you to know how good you are with livestock.”

“That’s a fact,” Calhoun agreed, raising a cigarette to his chiseled mouth. “The door’s open.”

Abby, watching them, was struck by the sheer force of so much masculinity at close range. The three of them were like patterns cut from the same rough cloth. Long, tall Texans. She was suddenly proud to be a friend to two of them, even if the third hated her.

“Thanks for the offer, then,” Tyler said. He stared at Justin. “I didn’t think you went to dances, business or not.”

“I don’t. Calhoun gets drunk if I don’t baby-sit him,” he said, grinning at his brother’s outraged expression.

“Like hell I do,” Calhoun replied. “I remember a night when you tied one on royally and I put you to bed.”

Justin pursed his lips. “We all lose our heads occasionally,” he said. “Don’t we, Abby?” he added with a glance in her direction and then in Calhoun’s. Abby flushed, and Calhoun turned his back and headed for the front door, holding it open for the rest of them without another word. Justin only smiled.

“Shelby’s going, too,” Tyler remarked to Abby as they walked out. “I had to twist her arm, but she needs some diversion. She’s working a six-day week for the first time in her life, and it’s rough.”

Justin didn’t say a word, but if that quiet unblinking gaze meant what Abby thought it did, he was listening intently. She wondered just how many fireworks a dance hall could stand. Behind her, Calhoun was glaring at her and at Tyler with a scowl so hot that she would have grown warm if she’d seen it.

The dance hall was jumping. The Jones boys’ band was playing a toe-tapping Western medley, and the dance floor was full. Old Ben Joiner, his fiddle in his hand, was calling the dance, his voice rising deep and clear above the music as he told the dancers what to do and when.

“Nice crowd,” Tyler remarked. He and Abby had arrived after Justin and Calhoun. The two of them were at a table with a third man who looked pitifully out of place.

“Yes, it is nice. What do the brothers want with Fred Harriman, I wonder?” she asked, thinking out loud as she and Tyler headed toward the table where Shelby was sitting all alone.

“You’re in a position to know better than I am,” Tyler returned, “but I expect he wants the brothers to feed out his new cattle for him.” Tyler glanced at his sister and saw where her big, soulful green eyes were staring. “God, she’s got it bad,” he said under his breath.

Abby noticed, too, and touched his sleeve. “Justin doesn’t date, either. Do you suppose there’s any chance for them?”

“Not after what he thinks she did,” Tyler replied tersely. “And talking about it won’t butter any biscuits. Hi, sis,” he said more loudly, smiling at his sister as he pulled out a chair for Abby and then sat down himself.

“Hi,” Shelby said with a grin. “Abby, you look gorgeous.”

“So do you.” Abby sighed. “You don’t know what I’d give to be as pretty as you are.”

“Oh, go on,” Shelby murmured, embarrassed. But she did look pretty, her dark hair coiled on her head with a bow holding it, her green Western-style dress exactly matching her eyes and showing off her beautiful figure.

“I wish things had worked out for you. Your job must be rough,” Abby commiserated.

Shelby smiled back. “Oh, I like it,” she said. “And at least we’ve got the house. We’ll finish the last details of the sale next week, and then all the gossip will die down and we’ll have our privacy back.” She picked up her glass of ginger ale and sipped it. “I hope you don’t mind my being a third wheel….”

“You go on,” Abby replied. “You know Ty and I are just friends. I’m glad to have your company, and I’m sure your brother is, too.”

Tyler smiled, but the look he sent her over Shelby’s oblivious head wasn’t quite platonic.

“Let’s get in that next set,” Tyler said, pulling Abby up by the hand. “Shelby, order Abby and me a ginger ale, would you?” he asked his sister.

She grinned. “Of course.”

Abby stared at Tyler as he led her into the throng of dancers. “I can have a gin and tonic if I want to.”

“Not while you’re out with me,” he said firmly, leading her into place in front of him. “I don’t drink. That means you don’t drink.”

“Spoilsport,” she sighed.

He chuckled. “Shame on you. You don’t need booze to have a good time.”

“I know. But I had looked forward to being treated like an adult,” she told him.

“Well, don’t give up hope,” he said, his voice deep and soft as his lean hand curled around her waist. “The night’s still young yet.”

Abby smiled, because of course he was just flirting. She let him jostle her around the dance floor, graceful on his feet, expertly leading her through the twists and turns and shuffles and exchanges. Abby was having a great time until she glanced at the table where Justin and Calhoun were sitting. Justin’s dark eyes kept darting over to Shelby. Abby was too far away to read his expression. Calhoun, on the other hand, was glaring at Abby and Tyler with enough venom for ten rattlesnakes.

Her heart leaped at the jealousy she saw on his face. Maybe there was still a little hope. The thought perked her up, and she began to smile, and then to laugh. Tyler mistook her response for pleasure in his company, and so did Calhoun. By the time the dance was over, Abby was caught in the middle of a building storm.

It threatened to explode when Calhoun, sick of watching Abby with Tyler, went and asked Shelby to dance.

Shelby was hesitant because Justin had just straightened at his table and looked capable of starting a world war all by himself.

“He won’t mind,” Calhoun said. “You look lonely sitting here by yourself.”

“Oh, Calhoun, don’t start anything,” she pleaded.

“I won’t,” he promised. “Now come and dance with me.”

Shelby gave in, but her lovely face was troubled.

Abby watched them go onto the dance floor, and her spirits fell. Shelby and Calhoun looked good together, her brunette beauty a perfect foil for his blond good looks. Abby felt plain and unattractive by comparison. She stared at Ty’s chest, hopelessly depressed. What if Calhoun had come because of Shelby? What if he was courting her now? She felt sick.

“I feel like I’m sitting on a time bomb,” Tyler mused as he watched Calhoun and Shelby and then got a look at Justin’s face. “I don’t know what Calhoun’s up to, but Justin looks dangerous. Even if he hates my sister, he still seems to consider her his personal property. Would you look at that scowl?”

Abby saw Justin’s expression and was ashamed of herself for wishing he would get out of his chair and beat the hell out of Calhoun. She flushed with embarrassment. “If Justin was dancing with another woman, how do you think Shelby would feel?” she asked, looking up at him.

He pursed his lips, his green eyes dancing as they searched her face. “I hadn’t considered that.”

“Calhoun probably thought Shelby was uncomfortable sitting by herself with nobody to dance with,” Abby added.

Tyler sighed, his eyes wandering quietly over Abby’s distracted expression as she looked toward the other couple on the floor. And all at once a lot of things became clear for him. Foremost was that Abby was jealous. Her eyes weren’t any softer than Justin’s. If she wasn’t already in love with Calhoun, she was well on the way to it. Tyler felt all his chances slipping away, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.

The evening wore on, and the tension rose. Calhoun seemed to enjoy dancing with Shelby. Abby stuck with Tyler. Justin sat and drank quietly by himself after he finished his business with the other gentleman, who left. The tall man began to look more coldly violent by the minute.

Toward the end of the dance, Calhoun left Shelby long enough to saunter over to Abby, who was sipping ginger ale while Tyler spoke to someone he knew at a nearby table. Abby hadn’t been watching Calhoun, because he was making her miserable. He didn’t smile at her anymore. He hated her, she was sure of it. So when Calhoun appeared in front of her, Abby grew flustered and nervous and almost spilled her drink.

Calhoun saw the nervous motion, and it gave him hope. “How about dancing one with me?” he asked quietly.

She looked up, her eyes searching his face almost hungrily. “No, I’d better not,” she said softly.

He caught his breath at the wounded sound in her voice. “Abby, why not?” he asked.

“It might hurt Shelby’s feelings,” she said, and turned away, searching the room desperately for Tyler. “I can’t imagine where Tyler got to,” she added huskily.

Calhoun looked like a radio with the transistors removed. He blinked, doubting that he’d really heard what she’d just said. Shelby might be hurt? Surely she didn’t think—It suddenly dawned on him that if Abby was crazy enough to imagine he was getting involved with Shelby, Justin might, too.

He turned toward the table where Justin was sitting like a statue, and whistled under his breath. “Oh, my God,” he breathed. “I’ve done it now.”

Abby didn’t say another word. She watched Calhoun move through the crowd toward Justin and wondered absently if his life insurance was paid up. Justin looked murderous.

There were two full ashtrays in front of Justin, and one half-empty whisky glass. The older man drank on occasion, but usually not when he was angry. If he did, he limited himself to one drink. The glass was what told Calhoun how angry his older brother was.

Calhoun sat down across from him, leaning back to study the older man. “She was lonely,” he told Justin.

Justin drained his glass and rose, his eyes blacker than Calhoun had seen them in a long time. “Then I’ll see what I can do about it.”

While Calhoun was catching his breath, Justin walked to Shelby’s table. He didn’t say a word. He looked at the woman until her face colored, then simply held out his hand. She put hers into it. He pulled her onto the dance floor, and they melted into each other to a slow, dreamy tune.

Abby sighed as she watched them. They were stiff, as if there were more than just space between them, but the look on Shelby’s face was hauntingly beautiful. His expression was less easily read, hard and rigid. But Abby would have bet that he was as close to heaven as he’d been in six years.

“How about that for a surprise?” Tyler murmured over her head, watching. “My God, look at them. They’re like two halves of a whole.”

“Why did they ever split up?” she asked him.

“I don’t know,” he said with a sigh. “I think my father was mixed up in it somehow, and one of his friends. But Shelby never talks about it. All I know is that she gave him back his ring and he’s been bitter ever since.”

As the music ended, the couple stopped dancing. Justin released Shelby very slowly and abruptly turned and walked out of the dance hall. After a minute, Shelby went back and sat down. Calhoun returned to the table.

Abby, turning to watch Calhoun bend toward Shelby, felt even sicker when she saw Shelby get up and leave the building, holding Calhoun’s arm.

She toughed it out for several more dances, but when Calhoun didn’t come back, she finally realized that he’d more than likely taken Shelby home. And was still there…

“Can we go home, Ty?” she asked huskily.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Ty asked, his voice full of sympathy.

“I’m tired,” Abby replied, and it was no lie. She really was. She was tired of watching Calhoun in action. First the blonde, now Shelby, and all in one week. But plain little Abby didn’t figure in his world. She didn’t even matter. She looked up at Ty, her eyes misty with unshed tears. “Do you mind?”

“Of course I mind,” he said gently. “But if that’s what you want, we’ll go.”

Abby didn’t speak all the way home. It was unlike Calhoun to deliberately start trouble. It was almost as if he were getting back at Justin for something, but for what? Justin hadn’t done anything to him.

Tyler walked her up the steps onto the long front porch with its graceful arches and porch furniture.

“Sorry the evening ended so abruptly,” Tyler said. “But I hope you had fun.”

“I did, honestly,” she said, smiling up at him.

He took a deep breath and bent toward her hesitantly. When she didn’t resist, he brushed his mouth gently against hers. There was no response, and after a minute he lifted his dark head.

His green eyes searched hers, and he wasn’t smiling. “You don’t have a clue, do you, honey?” he asked gently. “And I think it’s lack of interest more than just lack of experience.”

“You think I’m green as grass, too, I guess,” she sighed miserably.

He cocked an eyebrow and tweaked her chin with his lean fingers. “So that’s how it is.” He pursed his lips. “Well, little Abby, with some cooperation from you I could take care of the green part in about five minutes. But I think that’s a lesson the man you’re mooning over should teach you.” He touched his lips to her forehead. “I hope he appreciates his good luck. You’re a special girl.”

“He doesn’t think so, but I’m glad you do.” She looked up at him with a faint smile. “I wish it could be you.”

His expression hardened for just an instant before the old mocking humor came back. “So do I. Want to go to dinner one night? Just a friendly dinner. I know when a door’s being closed, so you won’t have any worries on that score.”

Her smile grew brighter. “You’re a nice man.”

“Not always.” He touched her cheek gently. “Good night.”

“Good night, Tyler. I had a good time.”

“So did I.”

He took the steps two at a time, and Abby stood quietly, watching him drive off. It was a long time before she turned and went into the house.

She closed the front door and started toward the staircase, only to be stopped in her tracks by an off-key rendition of a Mexican drinking song. Somewhere in the back of her mind she recognized it as one Justin sang on the very rare occasions when he had had too many glasses of whiskey.