Oklahoma Moonshine (The McIntyre Men #1) (25 page)

They discussed when and how I would declare my candidacy nine months from now, just a little before New Year’s Day. They discussed what I was going
to stand for and what I was going to stand against. They didn’t discuss these things
with me
, mind you. They discussed them with each other.
I was an onlooker. A bystander. They went on, telling me what I was going to wear, eat, and do on my vacations, as I sat there, listening, nodding, and
growing more and more uneasy.

And then they went too far. There we all were, in my father’s drawing room. Eight three-piece suits—seven of them straining at the
middle—seated around a long cherry wood table that gleamed like a mirror. The place reeked of expensive leather, expensive whiskey and cigars of
questionable origin. And all of a sudden, one of the men said, “Of course, there will be a
Mrs.
Montgomery by then.”

“Of course there will!” my father agreed, smiling ear to ear.

And I sat there with my jaw hanging.

“Got anyone in mind, son?” A big hand slammed me on the back, and a wrinkled eye winked from behind gold-framed glasses. “No? Great. Even
better this way, in fact. We can start from scratch, then.”

And suddenly they were all talking at once, growing more and more excited all the time.

“She should be blond. The latest analysis shows that blondes hold a slight edge over brunettes or redheads in public opinion polls.”

“Of course, there’s always dye.”

“Medium height. Not too tall.”

“Yes, and not too short, or she’ll have to wear heels all the time.”

“And of course, she has to be attractive.”

“But not too attractive. We don’t want any backlash.”

“Educated. Not quite as well as you, though, but that goes without saying.”

“Well versed. She should have a good voice, nice rich tones. None of those squeaky ones. And no gigglers.”

“Oh, definitely no gigglers!”

“Sterling reputation. We can’t have any scandals in the family. That’s probably most important of all.”

“Absolutely. No scandals.”

“We can run background checks, of course. Just to be sure. And—”

“Wait a minute.”

They all fell silent when I finally spoke. Maybe it was because of the tone of my voice, which sounded odd even to me. I placed both my palms on the table
and got slowly to my feet. And for the first time in my entire adult life, I let myself wonder if this was what I really wanted. It had been expected of
me, planned for me, even from before I was born. Everything all laid out, private school, prep school, college, law school. And I’d gone along with
it because, frankly, it had never occurred to me to do otherwise. But was it what I wanted?

It shocked me to realize I wasn’t sure anymore. I just…wasn’t sure. Giving my head a shake, I just turned and walked out. They all called
after me, shouting my name, asking if I was all right. I kept on going. I felt disoriented—as if, for just one instant there, a corner of my world
had peeled back, revealing a truth I hadn’t wanted to see or even consider. The fact that there might be more for me out there. Something different.
Another choice.

Anyway, I went out that night looking to escape my name. My reputation. My identity, because I was suddenly questioning whether it was indeed mine.
Everyone who knew me, knew me as Cain Caleb Montgomery III. CC-Three for short. Hell, without the name and the heritage, I didn’t even know who I
was.

I shed the suit. Dressed in a pair of jeans I used to wear when I spent summers on my grandfather’s ranch. God, I hadn’t been out there since
my college days, and they barely fit anymore. I borrowed the pickup that belonged to our gardener, José. He looked at me oddly when I asked but
didn’t refuse.

And then I just drove.

Maybe it was fate that made me have that flat tire in Big Falls, Oklahoma, on the eve of Maya Brand’s twenty-ninth birthday. Hell, it had to be
fate…because it changed everything from then on. Although I wasn’t completely aware of those changes until some eight and a half months later.

But really, you have to hear this story from the beginning.

It all began nine months ago, on the day I began to question everything in my life….

April Fools’ Day

Maya had always been of two minds about working at the saloon. Of course, it wasn’t a five-star restaurant, or even a respectable club. It was where
the ordinary folk liked to come to unwind. You would never see the church ladies or the PTA moms on the leather bar stools munching pretzels and sipping
beer at the OK Corral. But they didn’t have to see Maya waiting tables to know she worked there. It was a small town.

Everyone in Big Falls knew she was a barmaid.

And it probably didn’t do her efforts at becoming respectable much good at all. But the thing was, this was the family business. It put food on the
table. And it was an honest business, and one her mother had worked hard to make successful. It meant a lot to Vidalia Brand. And respectability or no,
family came first with Maya. Always had. That was the way she’d been raised.

So she helped out at the OK Corral, just as her sisters did. Well, all except for Edie. Edie was off in L.A. chasing her own dreams. And respectability
didn’t seem to be too high on her list.

Anyway, April Fools’ night started out like any other Saturday night at the Corral. Kara helped in the kitchen, where her frequent accidents were
heard but not seen. Selene waited tables, so long as no meat dishes were ordered. Mel tended bar and served as unofficial bouncer. And Maya did most of the
cooking, and gave line dancing lessons every Tuesday and Saturday.

In fact, the only thing that truly set this particular Saturday night apart from any other was that it was Maya’s last Saturday as a
twenty-eight-year-old woman. On Sunday, she would turn twenty-nine. And twenty-nine was only twelve months away from thirty. And she was still single,
still alone. Still an outcast struggling to make herself acceptable. Still living with her mother and working at the Corral. Still…everything she
didn’t want to be. Still a virgin.

So she was depressed and moody, and she’d sneaked a couple of beers tonight, which was totally unlike her. As a result, she was just the slightest
bit off the bubble, as her mother would have put it, as she walked out of the kitchen. Wiping her hands on her apron, she strained her eyes to adjust to
the dimmer light in the bar. Dark hardwood walls and floor, gleaming mahogany bar, sound system turned down low for the moment. Just enough to create a
soothing twang underlying the constant clink of ice and glasses, the thud of frosted mugs on the bar, and the low murmur of working men in conversation.
The light fixtures were small wagon wheels suspended over every table, a bigger one way up in the rafters dead center. Dimmer switches were essential, of
course. The only time the lights got turned up to high beam was when they closed the doors to clean up. The row of ceiling fans over the bar whirred softly
and tousled her hair when she walked underneath them.

And then she looked up.

And he was there.

He’d just come through the batwing doors from the street outside. He stopped just inside them, and he looked around as if it was his first time at
the Corral. And as Maya looked him over, she thought he seemed just about as depressed and moody as she was.

“Now that looks like a cowboy who’s been rode hard and put away wet one too many times,” Vidalia said near her ear.

Maya started. She hadn’t even heard her mother come up beside her. And though she tried to send her a disapproving glance for her choice of words,
she found it tough to take her eyes off the man. “Who is he?” she asked. “I don’t recognize him.”

Vidalia shrugged. “I don’t either.”

He wasn’t tall, but he wasn’t short. Not reed thin or overweight or bursting with muscle. Just an average build. He had dark hair under a
battered brown cowboy hat that bore no brand name or markings she could detect. His jeans were faded and tight as sin. His denim shirt was unsnapped and
hanging open over a black T-shirt with a single pocket. Even his boots were scuffed and dusty. But none of that was what made her so unable to look away.
It was something about his face. His eyes, scanning the bar as if he was looking for something, or someone. There was a quiet sorrow about those eyes. A
loneliness. A lost look about the man, and it touched off that nurturing instinct of hers from the moment she saw it.

She walked closer without even knowing she was doing it, and those lonely eyes fell on her. Blue. They were deep blue. So blue she could see that vivid
color even in this low lighting. His lips curved up in a fake smile of greeting, and she forced hers to do the same. But the smile didn’t reach his
eyes. They still looked as sad as the eyes of a motherless pup, and they latched on to hers as if she was his last hope.

“Can I help you with something?” she asked him at last.

He shrugged. “Can I get a beer?” he asked.

“Well now, this
is
a saloon.” She took his arm for some reason. Kind of the way you’d take hold of a stranger lost in a storm,
to lead him home. “Mister, your shirt’s wet through.”

“That’s because it’s raining outside.”

“Yes, but when it’s raining outside, most people stay inside.” She took him to a table near the fireplace. It was in the area where the
line dancing lessons would be starting up in a little while, but the man was chilled to the bone. He had to be.

He took the seat she showed him and looked at her sheepishly. “I had a flat on my pickup. Had to change the tire in the rain.”

“I’d have let it sit there until it let up.”

“I hear it hasn’t let up in days.”

“You have a point. Our weather’s been nothing short of freakish this year.” She signaled Selene, who came right over. “Hot cocoa.
Bring a whole pot.”

“Um, I asked for a beer.”

“It’s your call, of course. But beer will make you even colder. You want to catch your death?”

He blinked up at her, then shrugged in surrender.

“And see if you can find a dry shirt kicking around, will you, Selene?” Maya called.

Selene nodded, tilting her head as she examined the stranger. Of them all, she was the most strikingly different. Her hair was long, lustrous, perfectly
straight and silvery blond. Her eyes were palest blue, so they, too, often seemed silver. They seemed silver now, as she narrowed them on the man.

“You new in town?” Selene asked him.

“Just passing through,” he told her.

Selene’s gaze slid from his face, to her sister’s. “That’s odd. I got the feeling you were here to stay.” She shrugged,
tipping her head sideways, and said, “Oh, well,” as she turned to hurry away.

The stranger sent Maya a questioning glance.

“This month she’s convinced she has ESP,” she explained. “Last month she was exploring her past lives in Atlantis.”

He grinned widely. “Your sister?” he asked.

“How’d you guess?”

“There’s a resemblance.”

Maya smiled back at him, feeling warm all over just from the light of his smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You were meant to.”

There was something in his eyes that made her heart quiver. She cleared her throat, searched for something to say, and came up with the lamest line ever
uttered in any bar in any town, ever. “So, where are you from?”

His smile died. All at once, just like that. He lowered his eyes, cleared his throat “Umm…a long ways from here. You wouldn’t know
it.”

“Try me.” She wasn’t sure why she said it. Curiosity, she supposed. She wanted to know his story. What had hurt him. What had sent him
out into the dark rainy night to a strange town, a strange bar, a strange woman….

He looked up again. Seemed about to say something. Then seemed to change his mind. “Tulsa. I’m from Tulsa.”

“Well, now, Tulsa’s not that far away. And I’m pretty sure everyone in this room has heard of it.” She smiled gently at the way his
eyes widened and he looked around. “Hey, don’t look so nervous. I’m not gonna tell anyone where you’re from if you don’t want
me to.”

His gaze met hers again. “I appreciate that.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” she asked.

He shook his head slowly. “I’m not wanted or anything, if that’s what you mean.”

The reply that popped into her head was that he most certainly
was
wanted. Right now. By her. But she bit her tongue and didn’t speak. The
fire snapped, and its scent made her nostrils burn. The glow from the flames painted his face in light and shadow, and she took advantage of the chance to
explore it more thoroughly. He had a straight nose that began high and was on the large side. It made her think of royalty, that nose. His jawline was
sharply delineated, and strong, and he hadn’t shaved in several hours. A soft dusting of dark whiskers coated his cheeks and his chin. Reaching up,
she took off his hat, again moving without thinking first. It was unlike her to be this forward with anyone. But she took the hat off, and it was wet. His
hair underneath, though, was dry. Brown and fire-glow red in places, when the firelight hit it. It was thick, wavy, but short. If it grew long, she
thought, it would be curly. But short it couldn’t be. He kept it that way to keep it tame, she mused. He liked control.

And now who was pretending to have ESP?

“Stealin’ my hat, ma’am?” he asked, his voice very soft, very deep, and stroking her nerve endings like callused fingers on velvet.

“Umm…it’s wet.” Turning away to hide the rush of heat to her face, she hung the hat on one of the pegs beside the fireplace. Then
she spoke to him over her shoulder, avoiding his eyes. “Might as well hang that shirt up here, too,” she told him.

His reply came from close beside her. “If you say so.” A second later, his damp denim brushed her arm as he leaned in close to her to hang it
up beside his hat. His shoulder was pressed to hers, his hip. He looked down slowly, and his mouth was only inches from hers as he turned toward
her….