Читать книгу Homeward Bound - Marin Thomas - Страница 9

“Duck…duck…duck…Bobby, that’s cheating. Sit on your bottom.”

Heather pressed her lips together to keep from laughing at the disgruntled five-year-old’s freckled face. As soon as he wiggled his rump back down on the campus day-care’s blue-carpeted floor, she patted the next head.

“Duck…duck…” Her hand hovered over a bright pink bow on top of a mountain of blond curls. If she “goosed” Rebecca, freckle-face would throw a temper tantrum, and carrot-top, on the other side of Rebecca, would most likely stick his hand out and trip the little girl.

Tapping the bow, Heather moved on. “Duck…duck…goose!”

A quick pat on Tommy’s head and Heather was off as fast as her knees would move. The kids loved her duck-duck-goose rule that adults play the game on their knees. She almost made it back to the empty spot, but Tommy’s fingers grazed her shoulder. She toppled over and tugged the boy to the floor.

“Dog pile!” Brian yelled, jumping through the air.

Heather clenched her stomach muscles right before Brian’s butt landed on her midsection. The hundred-per-day situps she struggled through every morning at the campus gym paid off tenfold in this job. The other five children joined in and she ended up buried beneath bodies that smelled like peanut butter and jelly, laundry detergent and Play-Doh.

She wiggled her fingers against a pair of legs covered in pink tights and smiled when little Sonja, normally quiet and withdrawn, belly-laughed along with the rest of the preschoolers. The sound of rambunctious laugher warmed Heather’s heart. She couldn’t remember ever laughing with such abandon and glee as a child.

“Excuse me, Heather.”

Peeking between the squirming bodies, Heather spotted her supervisor’s mud-colored Easy Spirit shoes inches from her nose. “Yes, Mrs. Richards?”

“There’s someone here to see you. Come along, children. Snack time.”

One by one, the munchkins popped off Heather and dashed across the room. Feeling as if she’d narrowly survived a school of hungry piranhas, she lay sprawled on the carpet, her clothes in disarray and her ponytail smashed to one side. She turned her head—and spotted a large pair of worn cowboy boots.

Uh-oh.

Inch by inch, her gaze strolled up denim-clad legs, slowed across solid thighs, then came to a complete stop at a well-endowed…One hip shifted, jarring her attention upward, past the shiny silver belt buckle. Past the six pearl snaps on the sky-blue western shirt. Past a whisker-stubbled chin. Straight to his eyes. Eyes that stirred up memories of—

“Heather.”

Sucking in a deep breath, she braved a smile.

Eyes dark as chunks of coal stared solemnly down at her from under the brim of a seen-better-days black Stetson.

So he was going to pretend they’d never shared glorious kisses three years ago. Okay, fine. She could pretend, too. “Hello, Royce.”

Her self-appointed guardian angel glowered. She imagined any sensible women would take one look at his expression, which hinted at a not-so-sunny disposition, and steer clear of the cowboy. Not Heather. She’d always admired his temperament, not to mention his strong stubborn jaw, deep-set brown eyes and equally dark slashing brows. Royce McKinnon was downright handsome in a rugged, manly-man sort of way.

His sober gaze fastened on her bare tummy, where a dainty silver butterfly ring pierced her navel. His stare, moving and mysterious, turned the simple act of breathing into a strenuous exercise. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she struggled for control. Three years ago this man had rocked her world. If her skittering nervousness at the moment was any indication, she hadn’t succeeded in putting the past—rather, this man—behind her.

With one last gulp of air, she shoved her T-shirt back in place and hopped to her feet. Desperate for a moment to corral her frazzled nerves, she brushed at an imaginary wrinkle in her jeans, then fixed her lopsided ponytail.

At six feet two inches—minus the cowboy hat—the mayor of Nowhere, Texas, didn’t exactly blend in with the gaggle of preschoolers running loose in the room. “If I’d known you were stopping in town I would have asked for time off.” Well, that was brilliant. He’ll think I’ve been pining for him all these years.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Some things never change.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I left a message on your cell phone.”

The brooding, arrogant egghead was accusing her of not checking phone messages? Rolling her eyes, she sighed. “I see you brought along that trusty soapbox of yours.”

“When you decide to grow up, I’ll leave it at home.”

The fact that he thought her plenty grown-up three years ago, when he’d kissed her, hung in the air between them like wet laundry on a windless day. “For your information, this isn’t a job. Working at the day care is part of my student-teaching requirements.”

Heather waited for a comeback that didn’t come.

Royce’s attention switched to the back of the room. Puzzled by the expression of deep sadness that filled his eyes as he watched the group of towheads devour their snacks, she touched his shirtsleeve.

The feel of the soft cotton material brought back a long-ago memory of Royce finding her bawling her head off behind the feed store. Even though her crying had embarrassed him, he’d offered her his shirtsleeve to wipe her nose. From that moment on Royce had been her hero.

After a while the novelty of his attention had worn off and she’d focused her efforts on ignoring his meddling presence. But nothing she’d done or said had made Royce go away and leave her alone—thank goodness. Because she would have been truly lost without this overbearing interfering man. For that reason alone she reined in her temper. “Look, if you’re here to lecture me on failing to graduate next week with the rest of my class—”

“You’re not graduating?”

Oh, crud. He didn’t know? “Isn’t that pretty obvious, since I didn’t send you a graduation announcement?”

He rubbed the sexy little bump in the middle of his nose with his index finger. “I assumed I wasn’t invited.”

Did he think so little of her? Just because they’d shared one magical afternoon of intimacy and then…then…nothing didn’t mean she hated him or didn’t want him to celebrate her graduation. With all she’d put the man through over the years, he at least deserved to see her accept her degree. “I’m six credits short.” His silence compelled her to explain. “I’ve signed up for the first and second summer sessions. If everything goes as planned I’ll have my degree by summer’s end.”

“Degree in what now?”

“Psychology.”

His brow dipped below the hat’s brim. “Come again?”

“Psychology, with an emphasis on family and children.”

His tanned complexion faded several shades, as if her choice of major and area of focus stunned him.

Perturbed by his reaction, she demanded, “What? You don’t believe I would be good with kids?”

“You’re nothing but a big kid yourself, Heather.”

“People change. Maybe I wasn’t the quintessential good-girl back in Nowhere, but I hope my past experiences will help other troubled children.” She motioned to the crowded snack table. “Besides, I love kids.”

A rude snort popped out of his mouth. He removed his hat, then tapped the edge against his thigh.

Shocked, she stared at the long, jagged scratch marring the underside of the brim. Another memory flashed through her mind: Royce parked outside the diner on Route 8, twenty miles outside of Nowhere, just over the Arkansas border. He’d sat in his truck for two hours, watching her and then boyfriend Buddy Mansfield through the plate-glass window. Then he’d followed them back to her trailer, his truck’s brights beaming into the backs of their heads.

“You kept the hat,” she whispered around the lump clogging her throat.

As if noticing the imperfection for the first time, he smoothed his thumb over the mark.

“I ruined the Stetson.” Because you ruined my plans to elope with Buddy. Thank goodness Royce had. A marriage to the hometown bad-boy would have ended in disaster. Last she heard, Buddy was doing time in the Huntsville prison for armed robbery.

The lines around his Royce’s eyes crinkled. “Only a fool would toss away a perfectly good hat because of a minor scratch.”

An ache filled her chest. “Minor? I slashed the thing with a pocketknife.” She hadn’t known if she or Royce had been more stunned by the vengeful act.

“Yeah, you were full of piss and vinegar that evening.”

She’d been thankful the moonless night had concealed the tears in her eyes as she’d struggled to find the words to apologize. Words she’d never found the courage to speak. Half of her had hoped she’d finally succeeded in driving Royce away. The other half had prayed he wouldn’t give up on her.

When he shoved his fingers through a tuft of thick, reddish brown hair, the fluorescent lights in the ceiling highlighted a splash of silver along his temples.

“You’ve got gray hair,” she blurted.

The corners of his mouth lifted in amusement. “Your name is on every one of them.”

Her name and those of the rest of the good folks in Nowhere. Apparently, being rancher, mayor and saver of lost souls was taking a toll on the thirty-two-year-old.

The longer she studied him, the more she saw beyond his don’t-mess-with-me expression. The rumpled state of his clothes reflected the long drive to the university. The tight lines around his mouth hinted at fatigue, not anger. She suspected a headache, not frustration, created the furrow in the middle of his brow. And exasperation didn’t deepen the brown of his eyes—the dusky rings beneath them did.

Forbidding and unapproachable—not today. Exhausted and troubled—yes. But how could that be? Royce McKinnon had always been unshakable.

He checked his watch. “Can we talk in private?”

“I get off in fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll wait outside.” He headed for the front door.

An uneasy feeling skittered down her spine as she watched his retreating back. Shoving the sensation aside, she hurried to the snack table to help Mrs. Richards quickly clean up the mess.

A short time later she sat in the front seat of Royce’s big Dodge truck as he drove through the small campus side streets toward the rental house she shared with two roommates.

Royce hadn’t said a word since he’d pulled out of the day-care parking lot. His silence bothered her more than the country music blasting from the CD player. He’d never been a talkative man…unless he was firing off one of his lectures on taking responsibility for one’s own actions and other such drivel. She’d never given much consideration to his quiet nature, but right now she’d kill to know what was going on in that brooding mind of his.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. The clean crisp scent of his cologne wrapped around her like a warm hug, bringing with it a flash from the past: his mouth hovering over hers as they struggled to catch their breath.

Royce turned the corner and drove south on Conner Avenue, where most of the homes on the street were university rentals. She pointed out the windshield. “The bright yellow one.” He parked at the curb in front of the house.

“What are those guys doing on your property?” he asked, referring to the two males sitting in rocking chairs, drinking beer on the porch.

“‘Those guys’ are my roommates.”

“Roommates?”

His jaw worked as if he’d gotten a six-inch piece of rawhide caught between his teeth.

She hustled out of the truck and shut the door, cutting Royce off in mid sputter. Taking a deep breath, she marched up the sidewalk, determined to act like an adult even if he couldn’t. A chorus of “Hey, Heather” greeted her as she climbed the porch steps. Ignoring Royce’s hot breath fanning the back of her neck, she handled the introductions. “Seth, Joe, meet Royce McKinnon. He’s the mayor of Nowhere, Texas.”

“Cool,” the two grunted in unison. Neither student stood or offered a hand in greeting. No one had ever accused Heather’s roommates of having too much on the ball.

“Follow me,” she muttered, moving across the porch. Once inside, she veered right, through a pair of French doors. “It’s a two-bedroom house, but I converted the front parlor into a third bedroom.” She set her purse on the chair in the corner.

Royce stopped in the doorway and glanced around. He cleared his throat. “Do you mind?” Without waiting for an answer, he stepped farther into the room and shut the door.

She held her breath as his hand hovered over the door-knob. She didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved when his large masculine fingers fell away without securing the lock.

Shoving his fists into the front pockets of his jeans, he rocked back on his heels. The stubborn lug looked so out of place standing in the peach-colored room with flower-stenciled walls and a mint-green velvet canopy hanging over her bed. Barbed wire was definitely more his style.

“Your room’s nice, Heather.”

A compliment? Admiring comments from Royce had been few and far between over the years. “Anything is better than that hovel I grew up in.”

“If I’d known you cared, I’d have given you money to spruce up the trailer.”

A knot formed in her chest. She had cared. Once, she’d started to paint the kitchen a soft buttercup yellow, but her old man, in one of his drunken rages, had stumbled and fallen against the wall, smearing the paint and cursing her for ruining his clothes. After enough of those “instances,” she had realized caring was a waste of time and energy. Besides, acting as though living in a trash dump hadn’t mattered to her gave Royce one less thing to butt his nose into.

She sat on the end of her bed, smoothed a hand over the white lace spread and swallowed twice before she could trust her voice.

“Have a seat,” she said, motioning to the chair at the desk by the window.

As he crossed the room, she noticed the way his western shirt pulled at his shoulders. Noticed his backside, too. The cowboy was in a category all his own. Ranching was physical work, but most of the ranchers she’d known growing up didn’t have bodies like Royce. She’d touched a few of his impressive muscles when they’d kissed long ago, and this cowboy was in a category all his own. She wondered how he managed to stay in such great shape. She knew for a fact there wasn’t a health club within fifty miles of Nowhere.

Some fool named Sapple had opened a small sawmill in the 1920s south of town, but like so many other East Texas sawmills, the place closed up five years later. Sapple and most of the loggers and their families had moved on, but a few people stayed behind. The town was officially named Nowhere when the interstate went in twenty-five miles away, leaving the local residents out in the middle of…nowhere. Aside from a barbershop, a bank, her father’s feed store and a couple of mom-and-pop businesses, the town, surrounded by miles of ranchland and pine forests, boasted little else. If a person wanted excitement they had to get back on the interstate to find a popular restaurant or a honky-tonk.

Royce sat on her desk chair, expelled a long breath, then clasped his hands between his knees and stared at the floor.

Stomach clenching with apprehension, she asked, “What’s so important you couldn’t have told me over the phone?”

Her question brought his head up, and she stopped breathing at the solemn expression in his dark eyes. “What I have to say should be said in person.”

She almost blurted, Three years ago you had no trouble telling me that our kiss had been a terrible mistake. That you didn’t want to see me again. That you didn’t want me to come back to Nowhere. Instead, she settled for “A long time ago you had no trouble telling me over the phone to get lost.”

He stiffened, then cleared his throat and studied the Titanic movie poster hanging on the wall beside her bed. He turned his attention to her face, embarrassment and regret pinching his features. This time she looked away.

“How are you situated for money?”

The news must really be bad if Royce was stalling. “If I get the job that I applied for at the law library, I’ll be able to make ends meet this summer.” She’d already exhausted all the partial scholarships and government grants she’d been eligible for during the first four years of school. From then on, she’d had to work to pay for tuition and books, expenses and rent. She hated admitting it, hated that she was still dependent on him, but without Royce’s more-than-generous Christmas and birthday checks she would have had to drop out of college long ago.

Shifting on the chair, he removed his checkbook from the back pocket of his jeans. She had only one pen on her desk, a neon-pink one with a bright yellow feather and beaded ribbon attached to the end. She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling at the disgusted expression on his face when he tried to see around the feather as he wrote out the check.

“I don’t want your money, Royce.” Her face heated at the lie, but she felt compelled to offer a token protest.

He didn’t hand the check to her. Instead, he set the draft on top of her psychology text. “For someone who had to be forced to go to college, you’ve hung in there and beaten the odds.”

Two compliments in one day. This must be some sort of record for Royce. But knowing that she’d done something he approved of made her feel good. Proud. Vulnerable. She smiled sheepishly. “To be honest, I’m a little surprised I didn’t drop out my first year.”

“Just think. If you hadn’t been involved with that group of misfits who held up the Quick Stop, you might never have gone to college.”

Heather groaned. “Please. Let’s not bring that up.” She’d just as soon forget that fateful July night seven years ago when Royce had bailed her out of the county jail after being arrested in connection with the gas station holdup. She’d been using the restroom, unaware that the other teens had planned to rob the place. Because she hadn’t been in the store during the robbery, Royce had been able to convince the judge to let her off the hook. But the judge had added a condition of her own—college.

“The expression on your face when the judge announced your sentence was priceless. One would have thought you’d been sentenced to death, not college,” Royce chuckled, then his face sobered.

“What are your plans after you get your degree in August?”

“I want to work with children. Socioeconomically disadvantaged kids.”

He started to protest, but she held up a hand. “You’re thinking I wouldn’t be a good role model, right?” Why was it so hard for Royce to believe she’d changed since going away to school?

Shrugging, he slouched in the chair. “As long as I’ve known you, you’ve always been the one receiving help, not giving it.”

Ouch. That stung. Irritated with herself for allowing his comment to hurt, she changed the subject. “Enough reminiscing. Why the surprise visit?”

“I wish there were an easier way to say this.” He dragged a hand down his face.

The suspense rattled her nerves. “Spit it out, Royce.”

“Your father’s dead.”

She opened her mouth to suck in air, but nothing happened. Her lungs froze as her body processed the shock. After several seconds, her chest thawed, and she gulped a lungful of oxygen.

“I’m sorry, Heather.” He leaned forward again and squeezed her hand.

Numbly, she stared at the tanned hand, wondering whether the rough, calloused touch of his skin against hers or the news of her father’s death shook her more.

“How—?” Her eyes watered, surprising her. After all these years, she didn’t think she had any emotion left for her father. That she still felt something for the old man made her stomach queasy.

“A fire.”

Her gaze flew to his face. “The feed store burned down?”

He tugged his hand loose, and she bit her lip to keep from protesting the loss of his warmth and gentleness.

“The trailer caught fire. The county fire investigator believes it was accidental.”

No need to explain the gory details. As a child, how many times had she gone to bed, only to get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and find her father asleep on the couch, a lit cigarette dangling from between his fingers?

“A tourist passing by called 911. By the time the volunteer fire department got there…” Royce shook his head, sympathy in his eyes. “Nothing but a burned-out shell remained.”

“When?”

“Late yesterday afternoon.”

Her father was dead. She was alone in the world. Really alone. But maybe that was okay. Even when her father was alive she’d been alone. Still, Royce had always been there.

And he’s here now.

Royce stood. “I’ll wait in the truck while you pack.”

Dazed, she mumbled, “Pack?”

His eyebrows dipped. “For the funeral.”

“Funeral?” Why wasn’t anything making sense? She rubbed her temples, wincing at the onset of a headache.

He lowered his voice. “There’s usually a funeral after someone dies, Heather.”

“Why bother? No one will show up.” Not one person in Nowhere had liked her father, including her. The man had been an alcoholic, chain-smoking, card-gambling jerk.

“People will want to pay their respects to you.” He moved toward the door. “We’ll keep the service simple.”

“Simple.” She laughed at the absurdity of the whole situation. “I guess good ol’ Dad handled the cremation himself.”

Royce’s eyebrows shot straight up into his hairline. “I realize you didn’t have the best relationship with the man. But there are times when you have to do what’s right. This is one of them.”

Wondering if he could see the steam rising from the top of her head, she popped off the bed. “Ever since my mother ran off, you’ve pestered, nagged and lectured me! Well, I’ve had enough. Find yourself another hopeless cause to champion.”

His head snapped back as if she’d slapped him, then a shuttered look crept into his eyes. “Pack your bags, Heather.” His tone could have freeze-dried a whole cow. “You’re coming home.”

Home? She’d never considered the filthy, rattrap trailer she’d grown up in a home. Now, thanks to her father, there wasn’t even that.

And why would the good folks of Nowhere want to pay their respects to a girl who’d done nothing but cause them grief during her rebellious adolescent years? She wouldn’t last ten minutes in town before they ran her out. “No funeral. I’m not going back with you.”

Mr. Responsibility pinched the bridge of his nose, and guilt stabbed her. Undoubtedly, he’d already put in a hard day of ranching, then stuck his mayor cap on and solved the town’s problems, after which he’d driven three hundred miles to College Station. She didn’t doubt he’d return to the ranch tonight, wake up at dawn and start the whole boring process all over again.

“I’ll make the funeral arrangements. All you have to do is show up.”

She shook her head, hating the way her throat swelled and tears burned her eyes. Darn! She would not cry for her father. He didn’t deserve one single tear from her.

Royce’s brown eyes turned stormy. “You might consider yourself a grown-up, but when are you going to start acting like one?”

Ashamed to shove the burden of her father’s burial on Royce, she forced the words past her lips. “I’m not going back.”

The muscle along his jaw ticked. “What about the feed store?”

As far as she cared, the building could sit and rot before she’d ever set foot inside it again. “I don’t want the business. Sell it.”

“You don’t have to decide right this minute.”

“No, really. Just get rid of the place.” She lifted her chin, determined to stand her ground.

“Think about it some more. In the meantime, I’ll contact a Realtor.”

When he headed for the door, her heart skipped a beat. Part of her wanted him to leave so she could sort through the mishmash of emotions knotting her insides, yet part of her yearned for the comfort of his physical presence. Darn! She’d handled his visit badly. But for the life of her she didn’t know how to make things right.

“Royce.”

He stopped but kept his back to her.

“Thank you. For coming all this way.”

A quick nod, and then he was gone.

Just gone. She should be happy she’d escaped without having to suffer through one of his infamous hour-long sermons. Why then did she wish he’d stayed and lectured her?

Because you still haven’t gotten over him!

She flung herself across the bed and buried her face in the pillows, fighting the sting of more tears. Deep in her heart she believed she’d made the right decision not to go back with Royce. Summer classes started soon. And any day now she’d hear about the job at the law library.

Then an image of Royce’s tired face behind the steering wheel of his truck flashed through her mind. She rolled off the bed, went to her desk and lifted the check he’d left there. A thousand dollars! Her eyes zeroed in on the memo line in the bottom left-hand corner…Happy 25th birthday, Heather.

He hadn’t forgotten that tomorrow was her birthday.

She threw herself back on the bed and burst into tears.