Читать книгу Delaney's Sunrise - Rhonda Lee Carver - Страница 6

Chapter 2

Dee watched as Abe marched toward the barn, his back stiff and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Icy fingers of dread skimmed down her spine and the butterflies in her stomach fluttered wildly. She’d expected his anger. What she hadn’t anticipated was the way her body still responded to him with such profound intensity. She should be repulsed. She wasn’t.

She turned on her heel and came face-to-face with Mrs. Graves, who blocked the doorway. The woman looked like a mama bear coming to her cub’s rescue. Dee could respect that Abe had a guardian, though he was the last one who needed protection. With a shrug and a fake smile, Dee said, “Well, that went well.”

Mrs. Graves threw her head back and sniffed loudly. “I found it much like snake charming. The charmer hypnotizes the reptile simply by playing an instrument.” Her cool gray gaze slid over Dee’s body in silent implication.

Dee stiffened her spine. “Am I the charmer in that comparison?”

“You know what they say, if the scales fit...”

“Well, I can assure you, they never met Abe Delaney.” Dee brushed past Mrs. Graves, fighting back the threatening mist of tears. She was a strong woman; she could handle the devil and his guard. She only needed a moment to regain her balance.

Back in her bedroom and safely tucked away from both Mrs. Graves’ judgmental eye and Abe’s harsh attitude, she finally swallowed the lump in her throat. She scrubbed her knuckles against her damp eyes with a groan.

Could the situation get any worse? She fell back onto the bed, pulled the downy blanket over her and closed her eyes.

“Okay, Jacob.” Her voice echoed in the empty room. “I’m here at the farm. Your brother despises me. I suspect that Mrs. Graves, whom I’ve never met before today, hates me too. I’m sure you have your reasons for leaving me your share of ownership, but for the life of me I’m stumped.”

After a good period of sulking, Dee moved from the bed and caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror. She hadn’t worn jeans in years. She found them comfortable. Her lifestyle in Chicago wasn’t fitting for jeans and boots. Designer clothes and lavish embellishment had been the norm.

Who had she become since she moved to Chicago?

She was only a fragment of that naïve girl who’d met a man, a week later agreed to marry him, and flown home with him to a farm located in nine-oh-two-one-nowhere. She’d blame the impulsiveness on lust, but no, that was impossible. Their relationship hadn’t gotten to that level.

She had known little about Jacob. There were things a woman needed to learn about a man before she said “yes” to the engagement. She’d gone into the relationship curious about his middle name, his favorite color, and what he slept in at night–if he slept in anything at all.

People should know those things about a partner before they promised to spend their lives together. Her mother had been right when she’d told her not to jump into marriage with a stranger.

Jacob had died before the wedding, but in truth their relationship had ended weeks before. They’d never have gone through with the ceremony. He’d destroyed a large part of her innocence. Her hopes of a happy ending had been smashed. When she’d found out Jacob had been living a double life she’d been floored. She’d had no clue who he truly was until he told her the truth.

She pulled away from the mirror. As tempting as it was, she couldn’t hide in her bedroom all evening. Things wouldn’t change on their own. She had the power to make things better–and hoped Abe would come around, eventually.

Feeling refreshed, she bounded downstairs. Mrs. Graves was working in the kitchen. Dee glanced across the room, admiring the modern stainless steel appliances and new cherry wood cabinetry. It was about time Abe got rid of the old stove and dated decor. This was a kitchen she could create culinary art in.

“Hello, Mrs. Graves.”

Mrs. Graves glanced up from kneading dough, gave Dee a brisk nod, then continued to pound the tan blob on the counter with a wooden rolling pin.

Dee leaned against the cutter-board island, glancing across the mound of sliced apples, a variety of spices and a bowl of butter. “Those apples smell delicious.”

Pausing again, Mrs. Graves brushed a loose curl off her forehead. “They’re from the trees in the grove. Apple is Abe’s favorite pie.” A hint of a smile lifted the corner of her thin mouth, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

How could she forget apple was Abe’s favorite? She’d made him more than one pie while she lived on the farm. “Well, I’d be happy to lend a hand. Apple pie is one of my specialties.” She stole a piece of apple and popped it into her mouth. The crisp, sweet and juicy fruit brought her taste buds alive as her mind conjured up an array of recipes she could create with them. Recipes to seduce a man right out of his boots. She cleared her throat–and her mind. “I bet these make great pies.”

With a tired sigh, the older woman shook her head. “With all due respect, Ms. Crawford, I enjoy working alone.”

A tinge of hurt tugged at her heart. She understood some people enjoyed baking because it relaxed them, but the other woman’s cool attitude had nothing to do with anything so simple.

Stepping back from the countertop, Dee straightened her back and dredged up a smile. “If you change your mind, let me know. Maybe you’d share a few secrets on how you roll your dough without tearing it.”

With that, Dee left her alone.

* * * *

In the barn, Abe grabbed another beer from the cooler and struck the cap against a wooden beam. The top popped off and twirled through the air, landing in the cooler with a clink. He smiled as he brought the long neck to his lips and guzzled half before settling onto his favorite makeshift seat: a bale of hay.

A cold brew never tasted better than when in his special place, which just happened to be the horse barn. He needed a buzz this evening. He could use a smoke too, but never lit up in the barn, and didn’t want to venture outdoors just yet.

He cursed himself for picking up the habit again after dropping it nearly seven years ago. Another bad habit to add to the long list he’d accumulated over the last few months. He blamed Dee for almost every single one of them.

Running his fingers through his hair, he made a mental note to get a trim. His entire schedule had been screwed since Dee had said she was coming. He hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything but the idea that she’d be living at the farm. He shook as he remembered his anger when he’d finished the letter.

She had no right to be here. He couldn’t care less if a piece of paper stated she owned half his land.

No one, not even the law, could make her presence acceptable.

“You out here hidin’?”

Abe frowned as Mitch Goody, his friend and farm hand, ducked through the doorway. “I’m not hiding.”

“Got your company, I see,” Mitch said in his slow Texas drawl.

“Buddy, the term ‘company’ implies she’s welcome.” Abe grabbed an unopened beer from the cooler and tossed it to Mitch. “Pull up a bale. Bet you could use a cold one, too.”

“I believe I’ll do that.” Mitch settled onto the bale.

“Are the cows looking good?” Abe asked.

After taking a long draw from the bottle, Mitch nodded. “They’re working out fine on the north end.” Mitch removed his black Stetson and scratched his thick mane of sandy curls. “Your unwelcome guest settling in okay?”

“Dammit!” Abe swore; Mitch jerked. Abe jabbed a thumb toward the house. “I’m a stranger in my own home.” His anger, which had just begun to ebb, swelled again. “I can’t even relax in my own bed.”

The black stallion in the farthest stall whinnied as he dug a hoof at the ground.

“It’s okay, Danger. She’s too afraid of horses to come anywhere close to the barn.” Abe chuckled. He was safe here.

Mitch slid him a curious glance. “Would you be sittin’ around in that big ol’ house right now?”

“If I wanted to, I couldn’t,” he said.

Mitch broke into laughter. Abe snorted. The situation wasn’t the slightest bit funny. He finished off his beer. He was done for the night. He had to get up early in the morning, and the last thing he needed was a hangover on top of his troubles. His mare Sally came to the edge of her stall and neighed softly, tapping her foot. Abe laughed. “Don’t you start with me too, old girl.”

Mitch pushed his hat back on his head and shrugged a broad shoulder. “In my family, Abe, we stick together. Dee is your family.”

Abe bit back a scowl. His idea of family wasn’t a woman who weaseled her way into his property. “She’s not family. She was engaged to my brother. That doesn’t make her blood thicker than water, my friend.”

He’d only briefly discussed Dee with Mitch. A man didn’t need to air his troubles to everyone, not even good friends.

Mitch shook his head and said, “That sounded a lot like bitterness, pal. She didn’t betray Jacob, did she?”

Abe narrowed his eyes. “Why do you ask that?”

Mitch shrugged. “Somethin’s ruffled your feathers.”

Abe leaned his back against the rough wood and thought back five years. “No, she didn’t betray him,” he answered softly. “But two months don’t make her family.” He held up two fingers. “Two. Anyway, whose side are you on?”

“Yours, partner. Or,” there was a long pause, “maybe not.”

Abe raised his head. “What?” He stared at Mitch, who froze with his bottle caught in midair and eyes rounded. “What’s wrong with you?” Abe followed Mitch’s stare to the open barn door.

Dee stood in the doorway, her fists planted on her hips, her lips pursed accusingly.

“Oh, shit,” Abe whispered.

“Am I interrupting?” Dee took the first step across the threshold of his private zone.

There went his space.

“Hell yes.” Abe shook his head. He caught Mitch ogling Dee appreciatively and wanted to clock him in the jaw. “Can’t a man have a beer in peace?” he asked.

“Are you expecting an answer?”

“Not from you,” Abe grumbled.

Abe restrained himself while Dee surveyed her surroundings with apparent interest. With her every step across the dirt floor, her boots shuffled and his heart thudded in rhythm. As far as he knew, this was the first time she’d ever set foot in the barn.

He’d asked her to go riding once, and she’d turned him down without a second’s hesitation. Something about a childhood accident with a pony.

“Wow, it’s clean in here,” Dee said. “Actually, downright immaculate.” She ran her finger along the sharp tines of a pitchfork hanging from the wall. “Aren’t barns supposed to smell like manure?”

Abe scoffed and rolled his eyes upward. Heaven help him. He caught the quirk at one corner of Mitch’s mouth.

The barn cat ambled up to Dee and wriggled against her ankle. She looked down at the fat tabby, which stared up at her with bright green eyes as if asking, Will you pet me?

Abe half expected her to shoo the scraggly critter away, but instead she dipped down and patted the cat’s head, earning a rumbling purr. “What’s her name?” Dee asked.

“Traitor.”

Dee’s head shot up. She caught him with a piercing gaze. Her mouth curved into a perfect frown. He bit his lip to keep from laughing. She then turned her gaze to Mitch, who was obviously smitten. His toothy grinned stretched for miles.

Abe started to offer introductions but stopped. Why should he? It wasn’t like she was his guest. Yeah, he was pickling in his own juices, but he didn’t give a damn.

It was too much to hope she’d get the hint, turn around and walk out. Instead she approached Mitch and offered a finely manicured hand. Her smile looked as fake as her nails. “Hi, I’m Dee.”

Mitch managed a dumbfounded “Hello,” and clumsily stuck his hand into hers. “I’m Mitch. Nice to meet you. Did you have a safe trip?”

“Most definitely,” she answered with a side glance for Abe. “Thanks for asking.”

Mitch pushed his hat up slightly with the tip of his thumb. “I bet this is a change from the big city.”

She shrugged and wrapped her arms around her waist. “It will be a nice change–at least, I hope.” Abe waited for another glance in his direction, but it didn’t come. “You’re not from around these parts, are you?”

Mitch chuckled. “Can’t hide it. I moved here from Texas almost four years ago.”

“You’re a long way from home.”

Abe groaned. So much for peace and quiet.

Dee turned her back to him, giving all of her attention to Mitch, who seemed more than welcoming. “Did Abe tell you I’ll be staying here permanently?”

Mitch glanced at Abe across the room. Abe scowled back.

“No, I don’t–”

“I didn’t tell him it’s permanent because that’s a lie.” Abe shifted on the hay. “Didn’t you get that much from our earlier conversation?” Damn, he really needed a cigarette. Since that was impossible for the moment, he reached for another cold one. It’d definitely relax his mood. Screw the potential hangover.

Dee smiled coolly. “Actually, after our conversation, it became much clearer that this is home.”

He squeezed the neck of the bottle until he thought it would shatter. “It’s my house, my farm, my life, and I refuse to share it...especially with you,” he growled. The tension grew. One lit match would have combusted the air

Mitch cleared his throat and moved to the edge of the bale. “Well, I think I’ll head out for the night.”

As Mitch moved toward the door, Dee offered, “It was nice meeting you, Mitch. I do hope you ignore anything and everything Abe has said about me, get to know me, and make your own decision.”

“It wasn’t all bad.”

Abe caught Mitch’s smile. His frustration built to the breaking point, impotence churning in his gut.

Dee laughed. “I find that hard to believe.”

Mitch opened his mouth, but Abe shot him a look that said shut up, or you suffer.

“Leave me out of this. I’m heading home.” Mitch threw up his hands. He slid off his hat and held it against his chest as he bid Dee goodbye.

Alone with Abe, Dee said, “He seems like a very nice man.”

Abe picked at the label on his beer. “I used to think so.”

Mitch had fancied up to Dee as if she was the next best thing to sliced bread. Mitch was a man. Abe guessed any red-blooded man would find her appealing. He slid a subtle glance over her.

Although the changes were faint, he could the differences in her. Five years ago she’d been young, unmarked and green when it came to life, especially on a farm. She’d tried fitting in by helping with the chores, and she’d done a lot of the work inside the house. She’d even given the place a homier feel, with modern decorations and feminine touches. He’d never admitted it, but he’d liked her personal touch in the old house.

Seeing her now with her fancy manicure, long hair and perfect make-up, he doubted she’d be any help. Her attempt at knocking off casual with the new jeans, simple red tee and boots bombed.

“Was Mitch supposed to be mean and cold to me too?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Abe averted his eyes.

“Well.” She reached down beside him, grabbed a bottle, opened it and took a long drink. “You’ve been a total ass, and Mrs. Graves has been eyeing me like I’m the devil’s child. Is this your plan to chase me off?”

“I see I’ve made myself clear.” He glowered at her, though in truth he was more upset that she’d taken his last beer. He emptied his own bottle. “I can’t speak for Mrs. Graves. I will say she has an uncanny ability to see right through people.”

“If you say so.” She plopped down on Mitch’s vacated bale of hay and gave Abe a steady, determined stare. “You have only two horses in here? Do you ride them?” She peered into the stalls.

“No. One bites and the other kicks.”

“Are you serious?”

“And at feeding time, we stand back and throw the food into the stall. Otherwise, we might get too close and lose an arm.”

Her skin paled. “I know you get a kick out of tormenting me, but I’m not leaving, Abe,” she said with a defiant tilt to her chin.

“You will,” he replied, with more confidence than he really felt.

“No, I won’t, not unless I decide to leave on my own terms. I won’t let you decide my future for me. At least, not this time.”

He tossed the empty bottle into the trashcan. The sound of breaking glass penetrated the air.

He glared at her. “Are you implying that I’ve done something to hurt you?” He didn’t want to have this conversation with her. Any conversation with her. If not for the four beers in him, he’d walk out. That was more than his limit in two months, and he was feeling just a little...loose.

She studied her beer bottle and skimmed the pad of her finger around the top. “Of course not.”

Dee didn’t look at him. He couldn’t look at her, either. He’d lived with the weight of shame, embarrassment and pain for years. He’d done a good job molding those emotions into something more useful, more productive: anger. The latter was far better than sorrow. Abe had convinced himself of her faults long ago. He wouldn’t allow her to unravel him again.

“You’re not welcome here, Dee.”

She set her bottle on the floor. It fell onto its side. Beer spilled out in a foamy puddle; both ignored it.

Tension enveloped him. What would she say?

“Let’s get past that, Abe. The reality is, Jacob wanted me here. I don’t know why he did, but I trusted him.”

He smirked. “You don’t belong here. Did you change your clothes to prove a point to yourself, or just to impress me?”

One thin brow curved in challenge. “It’d make you happy to think I was trying to impress you.”

“No.” He wrinkled his nose. “No, it wouldn’t.” He dropped his feet to the floor with a thud.

“Oh, forgive me.” Her tone teetered on mockery. “You’re into engaged women, right? I’m only a single girl now.”

Her bitter words hit home, striking as hard as a blow to the gut. He rose so quickly she stumbled back. He stalked toward her. Agitated, the horses kicked at the doors of their stalls as if they shared his tension.

Her lips trembled. “Did I touch a sensitive chord?”

Chord? Hell, she’d unleashed a flood. He caught her wrist in a solid grip. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he dragged her close and bent low to her ear. “You wanna stay?” His voice was dangerously low. “Stay. But don’t cross my path, or I’ll throw your ass off my farm quicker than you can throw Jacob’s name in my face again. Ownership rights or no ownership rights, that’s my word. Got it?”

She tilted her head back and looked up at him. Her face was devoid of emotion, but the damp mist in her eyes made her a liar. “Got it,” she whispered.

He dropped her wrist and pivoted on his heel, heading for the exit.

Her shaky voice stopped him. “I know you, Abe, probably better than Jacob did. If I didn’t already realize you’re a kind man, I’d run as far away from you as I could. You’re angry and you’re feeling guilty. I know, because I feel the same. I’ve dealt with those same emotions since Jacob died. You may hate me and I don’t know if I still...if I like you much either, but we share one thing. We both lost someone we loved.”

He kept his back to her, but as the last word left her lips he nearly fled outside. Sucking in fresh air, he shoved his hands into his pockets. Damn it. Damn her.

She’d leave...eventually.