Читать книгу Cowboy Under the Mistletoe - Linda Goodnight - Страница 11
ОглавлениеThe next morning Jake made the rounds in town. First, to the post office to redirect Granny Pat’s mail where a friendly postal clerk he remembered slightly inquired about his grandmother. Then to the bank and finally to the grocery store.
Gabriel’s Crossing was a lazy stir of business this early, sunlit morning. Townspeople wandered in and out of stores. Doors slammed. Cars and pickups puttered down a five-block main street still paved with the same bumpy red bricks put there eighty-five years ago.
A truck with a Buchanon Construction sign on the door rolled past. Jake watched it, curious and wary, though the morning sun blasted him in the eyes, so he couldn’t clearly see the man at the wheel.
Allison had been at the house again last night. Her visits stirred him up and interfered with his sleep. Her and the musty smell of sheets he should have washed before bringing Granny Pat home. A man didn’t always think of those things, especially a man who was accustomed to sleeping in his truck or cheap motels along the rodeo circuit.
He both dreaded and longed for evening when Allison would return. She’d promised Granny. Why had she done that? And why couldn’t he find the initiative to be somewhere else when she arrived?
Heaviness weighed on his shoulders like a wet saddle blanket. That’s what Gabriel’s Crossing did to him. When he was on the road or in his trailer in Stephenville, he seldom dwelled on the tragedy. He’d learned to let it go or go crazy. But here, in Gabriel’s Crossing, where memories lingered around every corner and Allison popped in unexpectedly, he thought of little else.
He felt as trapped as a bull in a head gate, unable to go forward, and he sure couldn’t go back.
Inside the quiet IGA, Jake pushed a shopping cart down the produce aisle. He wasn’t much of a cook but Granny Pat needed nourishing foods to rebuild her strength. A woman who’d cooked from scratch her whole life wouldn’t stand for frozen dinners or pizza delivery either. He added a head of lettuce, some tomatoes and a bag of carrots to the cart. Salad. He could do salad. And steak. Big, juicy T-bones with loaded baked potatoes.
He tossed in a bag of potatoes and headed for the meat. The aisles were narrow, a throwback to earlier times, but he’d not been in the mood for the supercenter this morning. Too many people. Too many opportunities to run into someone he didn’t want to see.
He wasn’t afraid to climb into the chute with an eighteen-hundred-pound bull, but he was a coward in his hometown. The knowledge aggravated him so much Jake considered reshelving the groceries and driving out to the supercenter. If he hadn’t promised to meet the home health nurse in an hour, he would have.
As it was, he threw a few more items into the cart and headed for the checkout. A flaming redhead with a snake tattoo down one arm and a dragon from neck to chin rang up the purchases. Gabriel’s Crossing had certainly changed. But then, so had he.
The redhead gave him a friendly smile. “Coach Hammonds brought in the football schedules yesterday. Want one?”
She offered a small cardboard card similar to the wallet schedules he remembered.
“I’m good.” He would not be attending any football games.
“Oh, well. They’re free.” She tossed the schedule inside one of the grocery sacks. “You must be new in town. I don’t think I’ve seen you around.”
Jake was not about to make a fuss over a high school football schedule even though the red-and-white piece of card stock was a reminder he didn’t want.
“Visiting my grandma.”
“That’s nice.” The register beeped as she slid lettuce across the conveyer. “Are you a real cowboy?”
“Nah, I just found the hat.” He softened the joke with a smile.
Her hand paused on the T-bone package. She giggled. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I am. Sorry. I ride bulls.”
Her eyes widened. “No way. That is so scary.”
If he lived to be a hundred, he’d always enjoy that kind of reaction, as if he was something special because he wasn’t afraid to get on a bull. “Only if I don’t stay on.”
Which had happened way too often this season.
Another customer pulled into the lane behind Jake. Bolstered by the friendly cashier, he turned to acknowledge the woman, and his heart tumbled.
“Allison.”
“Jake, hi.” Her wide smile did crazy things to his head. “What are you doing?”
“He’s visiting his grandma,” Tattoo Girl said as the register beeped and plastic crinkled. “Isn’t that sweet?”
Allison’s eyes danced with merriment. “He’s a sweetie, all right. Are you shopping for Miss Pat?”
“I’m not much of a shopper, but yeah, sort of. I wasn’t sure what to buy.”
“She made a list. Didn’t you bring it?”
Ah, man. The note was sticking on the refrigerator. “Forgot about it.”
Allison backed her cart out of the checkout. “I remember. Go ahead and pay out and then we’ll go again.”
He should refuse, but he couldn’t. When it came to Allison Buchanon he didn’t have a lick of sense.
Jake glanced at Tattoo Girl who hiked one shoulder and said, “Why not?”
He could think of a lot of reasons.
By the time he paid out and found Allison, an easy task in the small family-run store, she was pondering the brands of laundry soaps.
“I can’t remember if she said Tide or Cheer.”
Jake studied the detergent as though they mattered. “Pick one. I don’t care. I’ll be doing the laundry.”
“Do you know how?”
“Allison.” He grabbed a box and sent it thudding into the basket. “Single guys learn to do laundry or go dirty. I prefer not to smell like the bulls I ride.”
“But you don’t cook.” So small she barely reached his shoulders, she gazed up at him through big brown eyes he’d never forgotten. Did she have any idea how pretty she was?
“How do you know I can’t cook?”
“I saw your shopping cart.” She made a cute face. “Steaks and salad are a guy’s go-to meal. And then you’re done.”
Jake let a smile creep up his cheeks. “Wise guy.” Though she was anything but a guy. Little Allison had grown up. “I don’t suppose you’d take pity on a man for eating out a lot.”
She tossed in a box of fabric softener sheets and pointed to the west. “Next aisle over. Come on. We’ll stock the cabinets.”
“Who’s going to cook?”
Her answer nearly stopped his heart. “Me.”
So much for avoiding Allison Buchanon.
* * *
Allison left the warehouse office at five-thirty, stopped at The Bakery to discuss Faith’s cake with Cindy, the best and only wedding cake decorator in Gabriel’s Crossing, and then headed toward Faith’s house.
Jake’s truck was noticeably absent as she drove past the Hamilton place, and if she was disappointed, she tried not to be. She’d see him tonight, though she questioned her sanity, as well as her family loyalty. At the same time, she wanted to be there for Miss Pat, a woman who’d taught all the Buchanon kids in first grade. And Allison loved to cook. Buchanon women were noted for their kitchen gifts.
Right. As if Jake had nothing to do with the buzz of energy racing through her system. A buzz that had begun the moment she’d seen him again and hadn’t let up.
She passed two little girls pedaling bikes and pulled to the curb outside the faded red brick where Faith had lived alone with her mother since her parents’ divorce twenty years ago.
“The topper is in,” she said without greeting when her BFF pushed open the smoked glass door. Tall and narrow, Faith was a bleached blonde with a long face and gray eyes who could play the fiddle and clog at the same time, a feat Allison found both charming and hilarious considering her towering height.
“Did you take a picture?”
“Do birds fly?” Allison whipped out her cell and scrolled to the photo. “The next time you’re not tutoring after school, you should stop by and check it out. The cake is going to be gorgeous.”
“Ooh, I love this.” A pair of silver and crystal hearts twined on a silver base engraved with the initials of the bride and groom. “That’s exactly what I had in mind.”
“Only the best is good enough for my bestie. How did the dress fitting go?”
Faith made a face. “Let’s put it this way. Don’t tempt me with ice cream or pizza until after the wedding. One more pound and Clare will have to paint the dress on.”
“Tell that to Derrick. He’s the one who wines and dines you like a princess.”
“One of the many reasons I love the guy.”
“Derrick is the steadiest, most dependable man in Texas. You’ll be a princess forever.”
Faith grinned. “From stork to princess. I love it.”
Faith’s superior height had made her the object of too many jokes through the years. Though Derrick was two inches shorter, he adored his fiancée the way she was.
Every girl wanted a man like that.
Ever present in her thoughts these days, Jake flashed into her mental viewer. He’d been entertainingly inept at the grocery store, and he’d made her laugh over a can of spinach.
“Stop calling yourself a stork. You know how many times I’ve wished I was tall enough to reach the second shelf in the kitchen cabinet?”
“I can change a lightbulb without a chair.”
“Lucky duck.”
Faith laughed and hooked an elbow with Allison. “Come on. I have a stack of RSVPs to go through. Let’s see who’s coming to the biggest party in town.”
With the wedding in three weeks, time was running out for all the last-minute details. “I touched base with the band and the caterer this morning, and scheduled the final fitting with all the bridesmaids.”
“And?”
“Everything’s a go. The caterer even managed some vegan dishes for Jayla and her friends after I sent over some suggestions.”
“She’s a genius.” They settled side by side on a fawn-colored couch. “So are you. How do you find time for all this?”
“The perks of working for family. When the office is slow, I make calls or run errands.”
“Saturday for the bridesmaids, right? What time?” Faith chewed the edge of a fingernail.
“Stop that.” Allison swatted her friend’s hand. “Ten o’clock. Which reminds me, are you going for acrylic nails or natural?”
“Do you actually think I can keep my hands out of my mouth in the weeks preceding the most important day of my life?”
“Not a chance. Acrylic it is. Have you made the appointment? What about your hair?” Allison went down the list she’d checked and rechecked dozens of times. Faith had been known to forget the details. Allison was a detail girl.
A stack of wedding RSVP envelopes—in the same white pearl as the mountain of invitations the two of them, along with Faith’s mother, had addressed weeks ago—waited in a box on the coffee table. “Have you opened any of them?”
“I was waiting for you.”
“Good. I want to keep a list.”
“And you know I’m lousy with lists.”
“Part of your charm. You’re marrying a statistician. You don’t have to worry about lists anymore.” Allison grabbed a stack and a letter opener. “Put acceptances in the white box, rejections in the blue one.”
As they sorted the cards, they talked. About how hard it would be to live three hours apart. About the darling house Faith and Derrick had purchased in Oklahoma City. About the honeymoon in Saint Thomas. If Allison felt a twinge of envy mixed in with her absolute delight for her best friend, she didn’t acknowledge it.
“Derrick’s brother is pretty cute, don’t you think?” Faith’s voice was casual but she didn’t look at Allison, a sign she was trying—and failing—to be subtle.
“Yes, and nice, too, like Derrick.”
“And? He’s the best man. You’re the maid of honor. Maybe you could get something going, and we could be sisters-in-law?”
Allison laughed. “Marrying your husband’s brother would not make us related. Besides, I like being single.”
“You do not. We’ve both waited long enough. Now that I’m getting married, you should get serious about finding someone.”
She’d found someone once-upon-a-fairy-tale. But her fairy tale had turned into a horror flick.
In self-defense, she said, “I went to the movies with Billy last month.”
“Last month! Allison, do you know how pathetic that is? And you only went with him because his sister asked you to take pity on him.” Faith put the stack of envelopes in her lap. “Jake’s the problem, isn’t he? Like always.”
Was she that transparent?
“Maybe.” Probably. “But that was years ago.”
“You still have his picture in your wallet.”
“I never got around to taking it out.”
“You’ve changed wallets a dozen times since then. Which means he’s still stuck in your head and your heart. So now that he’s back you need to do something about him.”
“And cause the biggest war since the Hatfields and McCoys?” Allison shook her head. “I only want to make things easier for him. Our teenage romance is long behind us.”
Faith rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. This is me you’re talking to. You have never—I repeat never—laid to rest the issue of Jake Hamilton. Every guy is measured up against your handsome cowboy, and then you kick them to the curb like a pop can.”
Allison sighed. Faith was right. Even when she’d wanted to move on and forget her feelings for Jake, she never had. They’d been prematurely interrupted and she’d never liked unfinished business. It was so untidy. “I don’t know what to do. I wish my brothers could get over themselves.”
“If wishes were horses. Stop wishing and go for it. Your brothers should have nothing to do with your romantic life, so get to know Jake again and see what happens.” Faith ripped open another RSVP. “I have an idea. Invite him to the wedding. We still have invitations.”
Allison’s heart jumped. “He won’t come.”
“You never know until you try. Sit right there.” Faith pointed at Allison as she hurried out of the room, but stuck her head around the door facing. “Do you want anything to drink while I’m up?”
“Water would be great.”
“Got it. I hear Mom in the garage.”
While Allison opened, sorted and listed RSVP cards, a nervous pulse ticked in her temple.
The unresolved heartache of a first love that had crashed and burned pushed to the surface like a dead body in water. She had loved him as much as any teenager could. He’d seen her at her worst, her most humiliated, and had never judged her. On the other hand, he’d stood her up at the graduation dance.
Did she really want to revisit either of those places again?
She stared down at the vellum cards and thought of all the weddings she’d attended, of the tiny unacknowledged ache to find her own true love.
Faith was right. She needed to explore this thing with Jake and put the issue to rest once and for all.
“Hello, Allison.”
Deep in thought, Allison jumped when Faith’s mom, Ellen, trudged into the room wearing blue scrubs, a testament to her nursing job. She wiggled her fingers and padded on silent white shoes down the hall and out of sight.
“Your mom looks tired,” she said as Faith returned, bearing a white invitation.
“Eight twelve-hour shifts in a row take a toll.”
“Ugh. Poor woman.”
“No kidding. I’m glad I went into teaching.” With the teacher shortage in Oklahoma, Faith had easily found a new job in Oklahoma City for the spring semester. “I’m filling out this invitation right now, and I want you to hand-deliver it.”
Allison returned Faith’s grin, though hers was filled with trepidation. “That’s easy. I’m going over there when I leave here.”
“Cleaning Miss Pat’s house is a great excuse to see Jake.” Faith pumped her eyebrows.
“Helping an elderly neighbor is not an excuse to see Jake. Stop it!” Allison bit her bottom lip. “I would help Miss Pat even if Jake wasn’t there.”
“Yes, but you wouldn’t enjoy your little trips nearly as much.”
True. Painfully true.
She watched Faith write Jake’s name in her beautiful script. “Do you think he’ll accept?”
Faith slid the card into the envelope and held it out like an Oscar win. “Only one way to find out.”
* * *
He shouldn’t be here. He should get in his pickup and drive out to Manny’s.
Jake looked at the spread of vegetables on the kitchen counter and considered sticking everything back in the fridge. Then he could shut off the stove and walk out. Allison would be here any minute.
“Jacob?” Granny Pat’s voice wafted in from the living room. “Honey, did you buy cheese for the baked potatoes? Bring me a slice. I haven’t had anything but prison food in so long, I’m hungry as a starved wolf.”
At the request, Jake resigned himself to letting Allison help him cook dinner. Granny needed this, no matter how hard it was on him.
He took a chunk of cheddar to the recliner where Granny Pat had pretty much lived since coming home. Earlier, the home nurse had gotten her up and walked her to the bath, a trip that had worn her out and torn a strip from Jake’s heart.
“Here you go.” He went to his knee beside her chair. “Anything else?”
“No, baby.” She patted his hand. “You’re such a good boy.”
The comment made him snort. “Is your memory failing you?”
“I remember everything I want to.” She grinned her impertinent grin. “You were always a good boy with a big soft heart. That’s why you acted up after your mama left. And you had a right. She broke your little heart in half.”
Jake’s muscles tightened. He didn’t think about his mother much anymore. “I always wondered why she left.”
“I know you did, son. Leaving you was wrong of her.”
That was the only explanation he’d ever received. His dad was barely cold in the ground before his mother packed her bags and drove away in an old Buick. “Do you ever wonder where she is?”
Granny Pat’s winkled face saddened. “All the time, baby boy. For a long time I thought, once she’d grieved your daddy, she’d come back for you.”
But she never had. And he’d grown up with a big, gaping hole inside, waiting for his mama to come home and fill it with love.
“I’m not complaining. You took good care of me.”
She’d done her best. In between work and her grief over the loss of a son, his grandmother had done all she knew to deal with a sad little boy and later, a wild teenager. Still, he wondered what might have been.
Outside a car door slammed. Jake shook off the uncomfortable nostalgia and jerked to his feet. “Allison’s here.”
“Ralph thinks you’re still sweet on her.”
He tried to laugh her off. “You want to get me killed?”
“You’ve been trying to do that yourself for years.”
A man with nothing to lose made a good bull rider.
At the knock, he ignored his grandmother’s keen insight to let Allison in. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.” She shoved a bag at him. “Put this in the kitchen while I bring in the casserole.”
“Casserole?”
“Mama’s chicken spaghetti.”
Granny Pat’s voice sailed across the room. “I love that stuff.”
“I thought we were cooking.” Jake looked over one shoulder. “I already put the steaks in the oven.”
“For tomorrow,” Allison said. “You know how Mom is. She still cooks for an army in case one or two of us kids drops in. She had an extra and I ‘borrowed it.’”
Karen Buchanon had fed him for years when he’d tagged along with the four Buchanon boys. Now, he was as grateful as he’d been back then, and the throb of longing was every bit as raw.
He set the bag of what appeared to be cleaning supplies on a table beside the door and followed Allison to the Camaro. Wearing a tan skirt and crisp white shirt with a collar, her flyaway hair bounced as she walked. He liked her hair, itched to touch the silk of it and wanted to kick his own tail for even thinking about her that way.
He had to stop this. Had to stop it now.
His longer stride caught up to her quickly. “Did your mother know you were coming over here?”
“She was going to bring the casserole herself. I volunteered.”
“She must not know I’m home.”
Allison shrugged. “She wasn’t wild about me seeing you, but I make my own choices and she knows that. Besides, she and Miss Pat go way back.” She handed him the still-warm container. “Mom takes care of her friends.”
Right. Karen Buchanon would visit Granny Pat even if her grandson was Ted Bundy.
“Neither of you mentioned this little errand of mercy to your brothers, did you?”
“You’re cranky today.”
“Did you?”
“No. They might do something stupid. They’ve been threatening—” She stopped halfway to the house and slapped her hands on her hips. “I want this to stop. You got me to admit my brothers still hold a grudge, and I didn’t want to go there. Does that make you happy?”
With her face tilted toward his and her brown eyes snapping, she was cute as a kitten. Adorable and off-limits.
“Happy? Hardly.” But exactly what he’d expected. Not what he’d hoped for or even dreamed of, but exactly what he deserved.
She hadn’t intended to discuss her brothers. He could see that and understood. Now, she was furious, both at herself and him, for opening up the sore topic.
Unlike Brady Buchanon whose temper was renown, Allison’s fury wouldn’t last long. She was too good, too generous, too kind. And she was tearing him apart.
Resigned to spend the evening fighting memories, he led the way into the kitchen where the smell of broiling steak overpowered the small space.
“Better check this,” he said and peaked inside the oven. “Looking good.”
