Texas Redeemed (25 page)

But she didn’t seem to care. With low, bell-like moans,
she swept her hands up greedily to clutch the man’s back as he kissed her—hard,
hungrily, hotly. His hands were braced on the pantry door on either side of the
woman’s head, his body pinning her there, his mouth apparently making her
anxious for more.

Valerie couldn’t breathe. She had to get out of here,
before the couple discovered her watching and they’d all end up mortified.

Deciding to slip out of the kitchen as quietly as
possible, she took a backward step and heard the woman groan, “Jasper, yes.”

What the …?
Valerie glanced at the man and woman fused together again, just for
confirmation. The woman was grabbing a handful of wavy strawberry-blond hair,
and he was leaning down in a determination to keep mating his mouth with hers.

Jasper and Hope!

Valerie scooted out of the kitchen, left the cake with a
waiter and claimed a goblet of wine. She needed air. No, a freezing-cold
shower. The passion coming from the butler’s pantry was palpable, and she’d
been an innocent bystander who’d been smacked with a heavy dose of it.

At the ballroom archway, she was tapped on the shoulder.

“Peyton.”

Damn it. Did he
have
to look so sexy tonight? It was almost irritating that to top it off, he
smelled wonderful, like she could lick her way to the source of that masculine,
sensual scent.

“You okay?” His blue-gray eyes moved over her.

Why did that feel so … erotic?

“I …” She was reminded of the game Clue, and tempted to
say,
The
butler did it. In the
pantry. With the landscaper.

Only, that wouldn’t be fair to Jasper. He was her friend.
The man had kept quiet about her pregnancy, so she could keep quiet about this.

“I’m okay.” Deflecting the conversation away from her and
the secondhand horniness she’d contracted, she gestured to the crowd on the
dance floor with her goblet. “This party’s going well. Nice turnout, don’t you
agree?”

Without replying, Peyton continued to watch her.

“Just trying for polite conversation.”

“Polite,” he repeated, still studying her but now with a
veil of coolness.

Then someone said loudly, “Look at that! Y’all are caught
under the mistletoe!”

Valerie noticed the mistletoe hanging from the archway
above their heads.

He’s going to kiss
you. It’s part of tradition. Let it happen. You know you want to.

And she did, she realized. She wanted his kiss, wanted to
taste his lips, wanted that closeness that was
physical but could be so much more. However, she wouldn’t let it be more than
physical satisfaction.

She couldn’t.

She let her eyes move from his steady, unreadable gaze to
his sulky mouth. Hip hop music drummed in her ears, dozens of pairs of eyes
bored holes into her. But all she cared about was kissing Peyton Turner.

He bent, brought his face to hers. Of their own accord,
her lips parted.

And then there was coldness, a brush of air left in his
wake as he walked away.

A few of the guests gasped or murmured their sympathy at
her being rejected under the mistletoe. Valerie didn’t stick around for
anyone’s consolation or commentary. She took off in a fast walk, desperate to
be alone but trapped in a place packed with people.

She sensed him behind her as she rushed out the door and
across the drive to the three-tiered fountain in the center of the front lawn.
Everywhere were twinkling lights, and the water in the
fountain glittered like strands of diamonds.

Peyton stopped her with his hands on her shoulders.
“Valerie, I’m sorry.”

“What’s with you, Peyton?” She jerked free. “When we’re
alone you flirt with me, but in public—no, in the company of well-to-do stuffed
shirts—you snub me. Not okay.”

“No, it’s not,” he said, locking her to him and moving
her to the side of the fountain facing away from the house. In a second-long
flash she had the image of Jasper and Hope clenched together like this—except
there was bona fide passion in their embrace, not frustration. “But neither is
some kiss under mistletoe.”

“Whatever.”

“Valerie, you think a public peck on the lips is right
for us?
Us?
After all we’ve been through, all we’re meant to be to each other?”

“Who’s to say what’s meant to be?” she whispered.

Peyton stared hard into her eyes, and for a long moment
she couldn’t blink. “It wasn’t the right moment. When it comes—” his gaze
briefly brushed the quick rise of her breasts peeking out over the neckline of
her borrowed dress “—if it even comes at all, we’ll know it. And neither one of
us is gonna be able to stop it. As strong as you and
I think we are, we won’t be able to stop that.”

It was a cross between a dark promise and a carnal
warning.

“So why are you holding me?” She clutched his arms and
was technically holding him, too.

“Because I’ve been wanting to
touch you like this since I saw you step out of your car.”

Valerie suddenly became aware of herself, as if her nerve
endings were shocked alert. She felt the fabric of his tuxedo pants brush her
legs, felt her nipples harden as she shifted against him.

“You won’t get a mistletoe kiss tonight,” he said as he
edged back slightly, just far enough to be able to dip and press his mouth to
her collarbone.

A moan flirted on her tongue but she bit her bottom lip
to contain it.

Peyton’s lips traveled up her neck to her ear. “If
there’s going to be a kiss—my mouth on yours—are you
sure it’ll stop there?”

He let her go then, and her mind whirled as she watched
him stride across the lawn to the house.

“Are you sure it’ll
stop there?”

What if it didn’t? Could she handle that?

L
UCY
POINTED HER
mother’s key fob at their Chrysler, waited for the double beep and opened the
passenger door to find her cell phone. She’d left it in here earlier, and
wanted to take some pictures with Sarah at the party.

A dark silhouette in the cup holder between the front
seats caught her eye. Found it!

Phone in hand, she shut the door with a bump of her hip
and was about to hurry into the mansion when someone said, “What a beautiful
get-together!”

Lucy jumped. Maybe her hearing aid was acting kooky,
because she surely didn’t hear anyone walk up to her. “Yeah, it’s awesome.”

“And such a marvelous house.
Nathaniel’s outdone himself with these decorations.”

That super-heavy, obviously New York accent had Lucy
looking at her sharply. Where had she heard that voice?

The woman smiled, her dark eyes crinkling at the corners
under a fringe of brown bangs. She lifted a hand to wave and Lucy recognized
the cherry-red birthmark on the woman’s forearm that matched her own. “Hi, Lucy.”

“It was you, in the corn maze at the orchard. The witch.” Lucy turned to go into the house, but Marin Beck
molded her cool fingertips to her arm. “Let me go. I shouldn’t talk to you.”

“But it’s fine to spy on me at the diner?”

“I wanted to see what my grandmother looks like,” Lucy
blurted, still feeling guilty that she’d let curiosity get the best of her some
days ago when she’d gotten Sarah, who was the one friend she trusted not to
blab, to help her sneak off to the diner.

Marin glanced around cautiously, then
her face was pinched with sadness. “It’s not fair, Valerie keeping us apart
this way. You should be allowed to decide for yourself whether I’m worth your
time.” She leaned down so they were eye level. “If you’re serious about
fashion, the way people around town say you are, then you’ll need to spend a
lot of time here at the mansion. With the right training, the right
connections, you could flourish in New York City.”

Lucy stood in awe, imagining noisy streets, tall buildings
and bright lights. “I’ve never been there, or anywhere
outside of Texas, actually.”

“A young woman like you
needs
a bite of the Big Apple. The shopping’s fantastic. The
nightlife’s better than anything you could ever find in Night Sky.” She
shrugged. “I’d tell you more, but I can’t stay. We probably won’t ever see each
other again. Valerie wants it like this—to keep you away from me the way
Nathaniel kept Peyton from me.”

“Wait!” She couldn’t just say hi-and-bye to her
grandmother. “What if my mom didn’t know? We could plan it really carefully.”

Marin’s voice dropped to a whisper, and her eyes went
momentarily flat. “Most important, then. Don’t tell
anyone
you saw me. Not at the orchard
and certainly not here. It’s our secret. Swear that I can trust you.”

“I swear.”

“Okay.” Marin lifted Lucy’s hand, and the new bracelet
glimmered in the golden light washing over the drive. “What a gorgeous
trinket!”

“It’s a Christmas gift from my dad.”

“Peyton must think you hung the moon. Lucky
girl.”

Lucy smiled at the memory of him giving her the bracelet
with a hopeful but edgy look in his eyes. “Guess so.” She spotted her mother in
the doorway, and hoped she wasn’t ready to leave already. It wasn’t even ten
o’clock yet. If she had to beg to stay awhile longer, she would. To Marin she
said, “There’s Mom. Gotta go.”

At the word
mom,
Marin’s face seemed to change … harden … as she followed Lucy’s gaze and took a
step back into the shadows. But Lucy didn’t pay it much mind as she hurried to
catch Valerie at the door.

The last thing she wanted was for the party to end.

P
EYTON
DIDN’T REALIZE
where he was headed until
he took a slight left off the fork in the road and saw the diner. The neon sign
in the window blinked open and
the silver fringe banner taped to the glass door exclaimed “Happy New Year!” It
was still New Year’s Eve, but when he stepped inside he found the place already
deep in noisy celebration. The wait staff wore party hats and everywhere was
colorful confetti.

“Marin’s not here,” red-haired Junie
said over the commotion, with a hearty meat-and-veggies entrée in one hand and
a streamer in the other. Her expression said there was no point in him denying
that he’d wound up here in search of his mother. “New Year’s Eve’s tough on an
alcoholic, and they’ve got an A.A. meeting going on at Pastor Bruin’s church.
Bud cut her shift so she could go.”

“She’s been going to the meetings regularly?”

“You could set your watch by her. And she even helps out
at the gas station.”

Peyton wasn’t a man with a death wish, as Valerie had
once called him. He wasn’t a glutton for punishment, like the cop who’d
arrested him when he was twenty-one had said. He wasn’t out to give his mother
yet another turn to gut him. But he was thankful to have the chance to know his
daughter, and how could he not give Marin the chance to know the person he’d
turned out to be? If she was sincere about getting her life right, then she
needed someone—her son—in her corner.

It was his choice. Not his grandfather’s. Not Valerie’s.
And when he showed up at the church and waited in the hall near the open
multipurpose room where people sat on metal foldout chairs and took turns at
the podium admitting how difficult it was to refuse a drink when life got tough,
he’d decided not to tell either of them what he intended to do.

As Pastor Bruin’s wife bustled into the room to urge the
volunteer chairperson to wrap it up, Peyton slipped into the room and waited
while his mother grabbed a handful of crackers from the refreshments table. She
was wishing others happy holidays when she noticed Peyton.

Marin hurried to him. “Can we talk outside?”

He followed her out and they sat on the bench in front of
the church. People trickled to the parking lot, until finally the old building
was dark and the street quiet. She offered him a cracker. “You came here to
check up on me.”

“Is this fresh start for real?”

“Would you believe me if I said it is?” She handed him
another cracker, then broke the last one in two and popped half into her mouth.

Peyton looked at her. In the months that she’d been in
town she hadn’t asked anyone for a handout. Nor had she tried
to insinuate herself into his and Lucy’s lives. And right now, even with
her sitting right beside him, he missed her even though he had more bad
memories of her than good. “I would.”

“What about Valerie? She doesn’t want me anywhere near
you or your daughter.”

He’d told Valerie he was done with Marin. But that was
before he saw that she was different now. “Valerie’s only protecting Lucy.”

“And you. It’s sweet.” She nudged him with her elbow.
“Judging the way you just said Valerie’s name, I’ll bet this protection thing
goes both ways. You’re serious about her?”

Peyton nodded, not interested in tiptoeing around the truth.
“Yes, but that’s all I’m going to say.”

“All right.” Marin smiled but
averted her eyes, then started for a black Accord in front of the church.

“Mom,” he said, as she unlocked the vehicle. “Happy New Year.”

After leaving the church, Peyton didn’t know where to go.
He’d searched for his mother to find answers, but ended up with more questions
than before. For one, how would he get Valerie to understand that his
relationship with Marin was Rubik’s-cube complicated, and that drawing lines in
the sand and tossing around ultimatums wouldn’t fix anything? Years ago,
Valerie had been the supportive friend when it’d come to Marin. Would she be
the one to come between them now?

He showed up at Bueno Eats
desperate to clear his head.

“Jerk chicken and stewed tomatoes with okra,” a
Jamaican-accented voice said over the rush of Spanish music as he entered the
restaurant. A dark woman with braids down to her waist appeared and offered a
slim hand. “I’m Fatima.”

“Peyton Turner.”

“I know. You’re Valerie’s old friend, and the doctor who
patched up my Diego. Your meal’s on us, as a thank-you.” She led him to an
unoccupied table, but Will emerged from the double doors leading to what had to
be the kitchen and got a narrowed-eyed look at him.

“No, Mama,” Will said perceptively. “He’s not here to
eat. He’s here to train.”

Will led Peyton to the little bungalow behind the
restaurant, and inside was the gym. Without prelude, Diego climbed out of the
boxing ring, leaving Wayne Beaudine from the auto
body shop alone to practice his footwork.

“Bienvenido!”
The man clapped, his injured wrist
in good form now, and motioned for Will. “Get him taped and gloved. Can’t let
el médico
ruin his hands.”

Once they were both outfitted with wraps and gloves,
Diego gestured to the speed bag. “First you learn hand-eye coordination. Watch
my boy here.”

Peyton’s hesitation at training with someone from Battle
Creek must’ve shown because Will said, “We don’t judge here. It gets in the way
of a good workout.”

Diego slapped Peyton’s shoulder. “Let’s focus on getting
your mind in the right place.” Then he issued an ear-splitting whistle.
“Dejen
de perder el tiempo.
Vamos a trabajar.”

Stop wasting time. Let’s
work.

W
ITH
JOURNEY PLAYING
on the battery-operated
radio she blared every afternoon during barn chores, Valerie sat bent over on a
stool as her hand worked a cow’s udder to relax it for its second milking. She
could smell the spicy cologne she’d committed to memory before she even heard
Peyton’s footsteps approaching behind her.

He’d arrived to take Lucy out for the rest of the day—a
weekend routine they’d fallen into after Christmas, when confirmation had come
from Austin that the application for Lucy’s amended birth certificate was
official.

“Dinah took her to a scrapbooking class at Snip-Snap,
that little hobby shop on Old Towne. They’re not back yet,” Valerie said, not
intending to be short with him, but struggling to focus on milking the cow
without giving in to the distraction of his scent. “It’s cutting in on your time
with her. Sorry. It’s just that she hasn’t been herself lately.”

“Tantrums?”

“I wish. More of the sulk-in-silence
stuff. Not much interest in riding or drawing or even Ichabod, that
llama she begged for.” His silence spoke volumes, and she regretted even
broaching the subject. Already he was concerned that Lucy wasn’t just a
troublemaker acting out for attention, that she was in
need of rescuing. Valerie didn’t like the idea that he thought he knew their
daughter better than she did. Lucy and Anna were the best part of Valerie; no
one would ever know them as well as she did. “Peyton, don’t make this thing
with Lucy into something that it’s not. Dinah suggested a new hobby, and I
think it might do the trick.”

“If it does, then thank God for paper
and glue.” He slid the toe of his boot under a low stool, dragged it
over and sat.

Boot. “Are those actual boots, Peyton? Not Italian
loafers or European—”

“Just all-American boots. Can’t
a man try out different footwear?”

“Certainly.” She smiled in
triumph as she wrapped her hand around the cow’s teat and squeezed, producing a
short squirt of milk that shot into a bucket. “I can hardly live without them.
I do everything in boots.”

While his still had that newish look, hers were creased
and scuffed. “So are you morphing into a cowboy now, or what?”

“How’d you end up with that conclusion out of what I’ve
got on my feet?” Peyton braced his elbows on his knees and leaned forward,
ready for a real response.

The cow made a half sigh, half moan, and continued
nibbling on the spread of grass and hay in front of it as Valerie steadily
milked.

“It’s not just the boots. You’ve been hanging out at
Bull’s-Eye with Will Aturro and guys from the Culpeppers’ ranch. And Lucy said you tried out one of the
palominos the other week—and almost fell.”

“Falling off a horse isn’t a rare thing, Val. Neither is
getting back on.”

She snorted. “Depends on how hurt you get when you fall.”
Taking hold of another of the cow’s teats, she milked with both hands.

Peyton touched her arm, just a graze of his fingertips on
her skin, but she didn’t slow her pace. “Okay. Now we’re talking about
something else here. We’re talking about you and me.”

You
and me.
Why did that sound so good to her ears, but pierce a tender
spot in her heart? Right, because it was a fantasy that wasn’t allowed to come
true. Because she had to uphold boundaries between them.
“It’s not that simple. Rowena Bruin told Dinah you were at an A.A. meeting on
New Year’s Eve. Did you let Marin back in?”

“She’s my mother.”

“The mother who’s hurt you countless times. This town
won’t even let you live down what her choices drove you to, and here she is to
take another crack at you.” Valerie wanted to give him the entire truth, but
the moment she told him what he didn’t know about his mother would be the
moment it backfired against her. She’d made a misstep in the name of
friendship, so how could she point the finger at Marin when some of the blame
was hers?

“Val, my whole world changed when I left town. It changed
again when I found out about Anna and Lucy. People
do
change. My mother has.” His fingers brushed her again. “Hey.
Lucy’s not a part of this. Marin knows to keep away from her.”

But for how long? Valerie
wondered. “What about you, Peyton? Way down deep you’re still the little boy
waiting for his mama’s love. I understand that. I did everything I could to
have Uncle Rhys’s approval, until I figured out it wouldn’t happen. By that
time I had something better to count on.”

“What was that?”

“Your friendship.” She looked
up, found him watching her. “I had you.”

“You have me now.” Peyton’s voice dropped. “Is this
disagreement about Marin an excuse to keep you and me from getting closer?”

Partly. “How much closer can we
get? Besides sex.”

“Sex?”

“Yes.” Valerie let go of the cow and turned off the radio
sitting on the floor nearby. “You want me. Even sitting here this second, I can
tell you do. I want you, too.” His pupils dilated and she continued, “But it
stops at sex.”

“Valerie—”

“We can’t leave all this open-ended between us. That
impossible-to-stop moment you talked about at your grandfather’s party? It’s
not going to happen, and I don’t want to waste my time waiting for it. So we
choose either yes or no. Wait-and-see’s not an option.”

Peyton’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. “Can you hear
yourself, Valerie? Do you know what you’re offering?”

“As if you aren’t all for booty calls.”

“Not from you. You don’t do things like this.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think, Peyton.”

“What the hell made you this way? Your body’s fair game,
but the rest of you’s off limits?”

“Nothing ‘made’ me any way. Just like you’re not the guy
you used to be, well, I’m not the old Valerie. She didn’t know how to control
her life, how to set up boundaries and make the right choices.”

“Sleeping with a random man just for the sake of sex is
the right choice?”

You’re not random.
You’re the father of my children. You’re the man in my dreams.
But he was
also only a version of the man he once was, practically a stranger. Unfamiliar territory. “Look, it’s no big deal. A simple choice, really, to take me or not. Sounds like your
answer’s no.”

“My answer is this.” Peyton dipped his head, almost,
almost
drawing his lips over her temple.
“Put me down for wait and see. There’s no point in rushing anything.”

“There is if you’re leaving.” She missed his closeness
when he eased back. “If you’re going back to your real life
of world-traveling hero, not your try-on life of menswear heir or cowboy
daddy.”

Peyton tensed, just a slight tic in his jaw, but she
noticed it nevertheless. “I’ve been in Night Sky for three months.”

“Yup, so your time’s probably about up.” And when he did
leave, she’d breathe again knowing that her business and home and daughter were
safe and hers to keep.

She expected him to protest, to insist she was wrong.
Instead he said, “This whole ‘pilot your own life’ idea, this ‘everyone has
their own self to blame when shit hits the fan’ philosophy of yours—is it
because of Rhys, or me? Or Anna?”

“Great, now you’re on some psychoanalysis trip, too.” How
many nerves had he hit by mentioning Rhys’s abuse, his own abandonment and
Anna’s death in one fell swoop? “Gotta
say, it’s not a turn-on. In fact, I don’t even want to sleep with you.”