Читать книгу Dynasties: The Ashtons - Maureen Child - Страница 17

Cole spent the drive to his cabin caught up in a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings. When would he be old enough for it to stop mattering? So what if his father was a sorry sonofabitch? Millions of people had lousy fathers. He ought to be able to shrug off the bastard’s indifference by now.

Most of the time he could. He did. Today, though…there was just something about seeing Spencer with his newest side piece, pulling the same shit that had wrecked Cole’s life all those years ago. It rubbed him raw, too, that Dixie had been there. He didn’t know why. It just did.

If he hadn’t looked up to the man so much when he was a kid, tried so hard to win his approval…

The past was a closed book, he reminded himself, pulling to a stop in front of his cabin. Put it back on the shelf and leave it alone. “Go on inside,” he told Dixie, climbing out. “I’m going to chop some wood.”

“Oh, good idea,” she said, getting out and shutting her door. “Go play with an ax while you’re too mad too see straight. I’ll get the bandages and tourniquet ready.”

He flicked one glance at her then walked away, heading for the edge.

The cabin was surrounded on three sides by oak, pine and brush, but the strip along the front was clear all the way to the drop-off. There, the land fell away in dizzying folds. The view always opened him up, made him breathe easier.

It didn’t do a damn thing for him today. He stopped a pace back from the rocky edge and shoved his hands in his pockets.

Dixie had followed him, of course. “This would be easier if you really were Sheila. I can’t help you vent in the traditional male way, by getting into a fistfight.”

“I should have known all that silence was too good to last.”

“If you wanted silence, you should have come here alone.”

Why hadn’t he? He was in no mood for company, yet it hadn’t occurred to him to take her back to The Vines before heading here. “If you wanted me to drop you off, you should have said something.”

“I’m just putting you on notice. You brought me along. Now you have to put up with me.”

“I want to show you the cabin.” There. He knew he’d had a reason for bringing her. “But I need a minute to myself first.”

“You need to do something with all the stuff churning around inside you, all right. Try talking.”

“I’m not in the mood for amateur therapy.”

“You know, people were talking—sometimes even listening—for a few thousand years before Freud called it therapy.”

He gave her an ugly look. “You won’t let it be, will you? You have to poke and prod and try to fix me.”

“I used to do that. It was a mistake.”

His eyebrows went up. “You’re admitting it?”

“Astonishing, isn’t it? But I wasn’t the only one. We both tried to fix each other. Your technique was a little different, that’s all.” She shrugged. “Young and stupid sums it up, I guess. We fell hard and immediately started trying to change each other into people it would be safer to love.”

Love. The word scraped across places already raw. “You found plenty that needed fixing, didn’t you? There wasn’t that much that you liked about me back then.”

She winced. “I can see where you got that impression, but it isn’t true. There was plenty I liked. And,” she admitted, “one or two things I couldn’t live with.”

She’d made that plain. Restless, he started walking. “Why did you come back, Dixie?”

She fell into step with him. “You keep asking me that.”

He didn’t know what kind of answer he was looking for. Just that he hadn’t gotten it yet.

What was wrong with him, anyway? He’d planned to bring Dixie to his cabin after lunch—but he’d been hoping for a little afternoon delight, not a session mucking around in his least pleasant memories. Not to mention his least pleasant self. “I’m acting like an idiot, aren’t I? Sorry.” He made himself smile.

She stopped. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what? Be pleasant? Polite?”

“Don’t put on a happy face for me.”

“What if it isn’t for you?” he snapped. “Maybe I need to remind myself I can be civilized.”

She stood there, shoulders straight, eyes narrowed as she studied him. God, he used to love the way she faced off with him, not backing down an inch…Cole took a deep breath. Some things it was best not to remember too clearly. “Walk with me a bit, okay?”

“Okay.” And that was all she said.

Cole headed for one of his favorite paths, a deer trail that led to a small meadow that was green and pretty now. It would be spectacular in the spring, he thought. Dixie would love it when the wildflowers burst into bloom.

But she wouldn’t be here in the spring, would she?

Carpe the damn diem, then. If all he had was another week or so, he’d better make the most of them. “What did you think of my cabin? I realize you haven’t seen much of it yet.”

“I love it. But it wasn’t what I’d been expecting.”

“What were you expecting?”

The path was too narrow for them to walk abreast, so she was following him. He couldn’t see her teasing smile, but he heard it in her voice. “Something more rustic. A lot more rustic. You did say you’d done a lot of the work yourself.”

“You lack confidence in my carpentry.”

“I didn’t think you knew one end of a saw from the other.”

“I didn’t, to start out with,” he admitted. “After the wall fell down, I took a couple courses.”

She laughed. “It really fell down? Which one?”

As he told her the story of his early, botched attempt at fixing up his place, a wave of relief swept through him. They’d be okay. As long as they kept it light, didn’t let things get intense, they’d be fine.

At the end of the tree-shrouded path lay his meadow. His heart lifted as he stepped from shade to sun. There was nothing vast or magnificent about this spot. The beauties here were small and common, but something about the shape of the pocket-size meadow seemed to cup the sunshine, to gather and soften it. He could have sworn the grass grew a little greener here, waving gently in a breeze the trees had blocked. Off to the west a towhee called its name—to-whee, to-whee.

“Oh…” Dixie stopped several paces behind him and turned in a slow circle. “A little piece of perfection, isn’t it?”

Her response pleased him. “This is the other reason I bought the place.”

“It’s lovely.” She stood motionless and smiling, glossed by sunshine. The breeze teased her hair and pressed her thin blue dress against a shape that was pure female.

Longing hit, a sweep of emotion that made him feel larger, lighter, full of air and dreams…then receded, leaving him mute and unsteady.

“Cole?” She tilted her head. “Is something wrong?”

“Probably.” He’d been wrong. Terribly wrong. He didn’t want a few days of friendly, keep-it-light sex from her. He wanted more. Much more.

He walked slowly up to her.

Nerves flickered in her eyes. She knew what was on his mind, oh yes. She didn’t back up—but she wanted to, he could see that. Instead she tilted her head back, frowning. “What flipped your switch?”

“You.” He put his hands on her arms and ran them up to her shoulders, letting the warmth of her seep into his palms. “You always have.”

“I don’t think this—”

“Good. Don’t think.” He crushed his mouth down on hers.

She jolted. He knew that, but only dimly—the ripe taste of her flooded him, a wine more heady than sweet. He pulled her tight against him, running his hands over her, feeding on the feel of her, the scent and taste and heat that was Dixie.

It wasn’t enough. He needed more—needed enough of her that she wouldn’t leave, couldn’t leave him again. His arms tightened around her.

And, dammit to hell, as soon as he did that, she started struggling. Pushing him away.

Cole had to drop his arms and let her go. Again. And it hurt, again.

Her mouth was wet, her hair wildly mussed and her eyes snapping with anger. “I won’t be forced.”

It was guilt that made him snap back. “Forced? It was a kiss!”

“You were going too fast. Pushing too hard.”

His mouth twisted. So did something inside, something that spilled out ugliness. “You’ve given me every reason to think you’d like to be kissed. Or was that all part of the game? Do you get a charge out of teasing men?”

“Where did that come from?” she snapped.

“You like men, don’t you? Eli, Russ, me—you flirt with us all. Am I just one of your men, Dixie?”

She spun around and started back toward the path.

“That’s right. Walk away. That’s your answer to everything.”

She paused. Slowly she turned. “People who leave aren’t exactly high on your list, are they, Cole? Or maybe they make the wrong list. Eleven years ago, I was the one to leave. We haven’t talked about that.”

“That’s right, I forgot. Talking is your other answer.”

She scowled. “I like yelling, too, sometimes.”

“I remember.” God, he did remember. Not the exact words of that last fight, but the feelings. She’d been furious, hurt—and the more angry she’d gotten, the colder he’d turned, until he’d thought he might never be warm again. “You yelled plenty when I forgot your birthday. Then you left me.”

She stared. “Tell me that isn’t the way you remember it.”

“It’s what happened! I messed up with the dates—”

“You refused to change a dinner with a client to another day!” She advanced, fists clenched at her sides. “We had a date, you and I, but you forgot and booked a dinner with a client for that night. I was hurt, yes, because you’d forgotten, but that wasn’t why I left!”

“Then why?” he demanded. “Tell me why, because I remember you screaming at me that if I wouldn’t take you out instead of my client, you were leaving—and you did!”

“You could have switched your client to another night instead of putting me off! I came last, like usual. Over and over you showed me where I stood—business came first, your family second, and I finished a poor third. Yet in spite of that, you couldn’t stand it if I so much as smiled at another man!”

His lip curled. “Half the time, you smiled at everyone but me. Is it any wonder I wasn’t sure of you?”

“You weren’t there for me to smile at! God, I’d be waiting for a phone call, then when it came you’d tell me you had to cancel lunch. Or dinner. By the last month we were together,” she finished bitterly, “you’d canceled pretty much everything except sex. That, you had time for.”

Her words struck him mute, inside and out. In the flash of mental silence that followed he heard his own words, past and present, echoing in his mind. After a moment he asked quietly, “Did you really think that? That all I wanted from you was sex?”

She gave her head a little shake, as if she were emerging from the fog, too. When she spoke there was a thread of humor in her voice. “Surely I must have screamed something along those lines.”

“By then we were accusing each other of everything short of abetting the Holocaust. I didn’t think you meant it.”

“I, on the other hand, believed you meant every word. You weren’t screaming, like me. You were deep in your chill zone, still speaking in complete, grammatically correct sentences…everything you said came out cold and deliberate.”

“I have no idea what I said. I was terrified.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You?”

“Oh, yeah. I was losing you and I knew it.” He’d never really believed he’d be able to hold on to her, so he’d held on too tightly, letting jealousy twist its knife in him. “I’d bought a ring.”

The words just slipped out. Dammit, he’d never wanted her to know that, never wanted anyone to realize how deep and complete a fool he’d been.

Her eyes went huge. “A ring?” she whispered.

“I was going to ask you to wear it on your birthday. Or,” he added wryly, “on whatever night I managed to make time to celebrate your birthday.”

Her eyes closed. She rubbed her chest as if it hurt. “Give me a minute. You…That’s a real leveler.” She paced away a few steps, then just stood there, her hand on her chest, looking away…pretty far away, he suspected. About eleven years. “If I’d known…”

“You might not have left. And that,” he added with painful honesty, “would probably have been a mistake. I wanted to keep you, but I had no intention of changing. I didn’t know how, back then. We’d have made each other miserable.”

She looked back at him. “I was sure you’d call. I waited for weeks for you to call and say you’d been wrong and wanted me back.”

“I was waiting for you to call and apologize. I gave you a month, being big on tests back then. You mentioned that.” He remembered only too well what she’d said. “Or shouted it. You were sick of the way I kept testing you, but as usual I didn’t listen. At the end of the month I decided you’d failed the test. I pitched the ring into the deepest canyon I could find. It was all very dramatic.”

She shook her head, a sad smile touching her mouth. “God have mercy on the young.”

“Young and stupid,” he agreed. “Both of us.”

Suddenly she laughed. “Pigheaded fits, too. Both of us waiting for the other one to call—”

“Confess their sins—”

“And come crawling back.” She grinned. “Admit it. The crawling part figured in your fantasies, too.”

“Absolutely.” Right up until he threw away the ring that had meant so much…and so little. After that, he’d made up his mind to forget her.

He’d failed.

For a moment they just looked at each other, letting the past settle back into place. Cole found that the shapes it fell into weren’t quite the ones it had held before. “I was out of line earlier,” he admitted. “Way out. I shouldn’t have accused you of being a tease, or…” He swallowed. “Or forced a kiss you didn’t want.”

“I wanted it,” she said, low voiced. “Then I got scared.”

“God, I never meant—”

“Of course not,” she said quickly. “If I’d let you know…but I don’t like to admit it when I’m frightened.”

But he knew of another time she’d been frightened, one she’d told him about. That knowledge hung between them.

She’d been eight when her father died, fifteen when her mother became engaged again. Helen McCord had believed she’d found the man who would take care of her and her daughter forever. Dixie hadn’t liked him, but she’d kept quiet about it for her mother’s sake. They’d just moved in together when Helen’s heart condition had grown suddenly worse. She’d gone in for surgery, comforted by the knowledge that the man she loved would be there to take care of her daughter.

The day after her surgery, that man had cornered Dixie in her bedroom. She’d gotten away. She’d even left her mark—the bastard probably bore a scar on his forehead to this day. And she hadn’t told her mother about it until Helen was home from rehab.

It was typical of Dixie. Admirable. And it provided a stark exclamation point to all the reasons he’d had for doubting she could ever commit completely to one man. Life had taught her not to trust men. To rely only on herself.

“It wasn’t you I was afraid of,” Dixie said at last. “Not you. That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook for your comments,” she added with attempted lightness. “Some women may find jealousy attractive. I don’t.”

“Noted.” He nodded, grimly accepting that he’d given her a flashback moment. One more in a long series of mistakes he’d made with her. “You’ve seen my temper, my favorite spot and my least favorite side of myself. Can I show you my cabin now?”

She shook her head. “I do want to see it, but not today. Things are pretty charged between us right now. I don’t want to fall into your bed by accident.”

His pulse leaped. Down, boy, he told his most optimistic body part, and held out a hand. “Walk back with me?”

She smiled, came to him and took his hand. The connection felt good. After a moment he said, “I guess this means I’ll have to postpone my plans for an afternoon of hot sex.”

Her laugh was shaky. “Good guess.”

Postponed, he thought. What a wonderful word. For a few minutes it had looked as if he was going to lose her all over again. They walked back in a silence every bit as complete as when they’d walked out to the meadow…and wholly different.