Texas Strong (23 page)

But she had been waiting tables since high school, and she wanted to spread her wings. She didn’t know how she could ever leave Ruby, though. Ruby had been mother and grandmother to her for much of her life, and now Ruby depended on her to help keep this place running.

So Jeanette stayed. And yearned for…something.

Rapping knuckles on the front door drew her out of her reverie. “All right, all right. Hold your britches, Harley Sykes.”

“What’s the hold-up, Jeanette? Ruby would have the door open by now.”

“Ruby’s not here, and it’s one minute past six. I think you’ll live.”

And so it began.

“Your sister is terrific,” murmured Brenda later that morning as she passed Chrissy on the way to pick up an order. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Henry smile that much.” They both glanced toward the kitchen where Henry was instructing Laura on the grill.

“Except when he’s looking at you.” Chrissy winked.

“Oh, I don’t know. I, uh—” The slender blonde’s cheeks reddened. “We’re just friends.”

“He doesn’t seem like that’s all he wants to be,” Chrissy said. Then she took mercy on the girl who was such a mystery and changed the subject. “But you’re right. Laura is the best. Her kids are around Henry’s age and yours. All their friends always wanted to hang out at Laura’s house and not only for the great food she kept supplying them, day or night. They could just tell she really cared about them. She’s an awesome mom.” Chrissy sighed, still tired from tossing all last night after the disastrous visit to Tank. “I can only dream of being as good.”

“I think you’re great,” Brenda said. “Your kids are sweet, and they seem happy.”

They won’t be so happy when I have to tell them the visit to Tank’s ranch is off
. But she wasn’t going to get into that. She felt enough like a failure.

“Are you two through talking? Think you might want to take care of your customers?” Jeanette sniped as she sailed past.

Chrissy’s gaze met Brenda’s. Chrissy screwed up her face in a mock-scowl.

Brenda giggled, then glanced over her shoulder and gasped. “Uh-oh. She saw me. And you.”

What was wrong with her? She needed this job, and besides, Jeanette was just trying to keep the place running while Ruby and Scarlett were gone. She dug in and focused, blocking out everything but her customers. She had spent most of the night alternately furious with Tank and so very sad about him. Absently she rubbed her chest over her heart. She’d made a mess of it, and now he wouldn’t even be willing to have her as a friend.

He needed a friend. So much.

The lunch rush trailed off, and she told herself she was glad he hadn’t come in. She had no idea what to say to him.
Sorry I ogled your muscles? Sorry I stuck my nose in your business? Sorry I thought I knew what you needed better than you do?

But she just couldn’t shake the notion that she did know better. That Tank’s ghosts would never let him rest as long as he remained an island.

So you bullied him. Great
. She sighed and made her way to the kitchen to get her own meal. Maybe she’d eat it outside. See if Laura wanted to join her.

But Laura was busily showing Henry something, their two heads together over a prep table. Laura looked as happy as Chrissy had seen her since she’d arrived, so she wasn’t going to interrupt.

Maybe she’d call Jake. Ask him what on earth he was doing.

Oh, yeah, great. Like meddling with Tank’s life wasn’t enough.

Just then she heard her name being called from the front. She turned.

And there he stood, face serious.

“You have a second to talk to Tank?” Jeanette asked protectively.

Even if he didn’t want anything to do with her, she was by golly going to make people stop treating him like a pariah. “Of course.” She kept her voice calm and neutral as she approached. “What can I help you with?” She was too aware of Jeanette hovering nearby.

“Could we talk outside?” he asked.

He looked uncertain, and she couldn’t imagine why. “Sure.”

He held the door for her, the way all the men in Sweetgrass seemed to do, as though gentlemanly manners were absorbed in the water or something. She tried to think about manners or the beautiful day outside or anything but how close her body brushed against his as she passed through the door.

How she longed to turn into his broad chest, however. To wrap her arms around him and make him see himself as she did.

Once outside, he came to a halt on the sidewalk, turning his cowboy hat in his hands. “You, uh, want to sit down or something?”

“I’m fine.”

He stared across at the courthouse. “There’s a legend, you know, connected to the spring over there, the one Sweetgrass was named for. About a soldier and the spirit of the spring. She saved him, goes the legend, when he was dying. He had to go back to war, and he said he’d return for her, but he never did.”

He was so uncomfortable that she didn’t stop him, didn’t ask why on earth he was telling her that story. Instead she forced herself to wait to find out why he was really here.

He cleared his throat. “You probably don’t want me to now, but I thought a lot about what you said, and I don’t want to disappoint your kids. They’re good kids, and they don’t deserve that.”

Just as she was about to say
I don’t deserve that either
, he looked at her. “Neither do you. Just because I can’t, uh, be the man you deserve, I…I like you, Chrissy. It’s not you, you know that, right?” His jaw firmed. “You can’t see it, but you’ll be glad one day.”

Of all the nerve.

“Anyway, I wanted to see if you and your kids want to come to my ranch on Saturday. I can take the day off ’cause I never use my vacation. Rissa and Mackey are loaning me a couple of horses, one for the kids and one for you, if you want.” Then he fell silent, waiting.

This would mean so much to Thad and Becky. Even if it made her mad that he was so blasted stubborn about what they could have.

She looked up, and realized he was nervous.

Amazing.

He was trying. It wasn’t his fault that she’d embarrassed herself in front of him. “I’ve never ridden a horse, but I can watch. The kids would love it. Thank you.”

He nodded. “I could teach you to ride, if you’d like.”

It wasn’t what she’d like most, but she shouldn’t be churlish. “Maybe later.”

“Okay.” Another silence.

Oh, this was excruciating, all this politeness.

“Bring your sister if you want.”

“I’ll ask.” Laura might as well come. At least then she’d have someone to talk to.
Oh, get over yourself. That’s unfair
.

“Does she ride?”

“I don’t know. I’ll ask that, too.”

He nodded.

Another long silence.

He cleared his throat. “I’m not wrong about being the worst person for you to be around, but I’ll be glad to see you.”

She was too weary to argue with him now. Or maybe ever again.

“So…nine o’clock Saturday okay? That’ll give me time to get chores done.”

“That’ll be great.” How she hated this stiffness between them.

He settled his hat on his head. “All right then. I’ll leave you be. And I’m sorry again.”

He waited for her to respond.

She was all out of words. “Thank you” was the best she could manage.

He studied her a little longer, but she couldn’t bear to see what was in those blue eyes.

So she nodded and with a grim smile, turned back to the cafe.

A little while before the kids were due home from school, Laura arrived and promptly dropped the key to her sister’s house, juggling grocery bags as she bent to retrieve it. Muttering, she balanced her purse on one hip and listened to Puddin’ howl on the other side of the door.

When at last she opened it, the dog threw himself at her as if she’d trekked to the Gobi Desert since his last sight of her. “I know, baby, I know. You need to go out?”

She’d gotten far too accustomed to tapping a garage door button and traversing only a few feet from car to kitchen counter. To possessing a large, beautiful yard where Puddin’ could attend to the necessities at his leisure.

Her sister had never been so fortunate, even when she was married. Though she rented this sweet little house now instead of her last grungy apartment, she didn’t have a fenced yard. She was very lucky that the house had been furnished, since all she had to live on and raise two kids on was her waitressing salary. Child support wasn’t something Darren Daniels thought about.

Laura and Jake had offered to take Chrissy and her kids in, but Chrissy was proud and resolute. Now here Laura was, making crowded living quarters only worse.

Maybe if her own marriage was over, she and Chrissy could share a bigger house. She’d have to get serious about that catering business, but perhaps she’d be able to make her sister’s life easier, as well.

The very notion of leaving her home, her nest, was sheer misery. And losing Jake—

Stop. Don’t think like that. It won’t help
.

So Laura would lose herself in a time-honored escape from life’s rough passages.

She would cook. She was worn out from a restless night followed by hours at the diner, but she wasn’t going to fall into the trap of napping. Sleep lured her like a lover, but its appeal was of the hiding-under-covers variety, and she had to resist. If her life with Jake was over—dear mercy, how she hoped not—then she had to stay on her feet.

Puddin’ whimpered again. “Hang on, fella. Let me just put this milk in the fridge. There.” She scanned the kitchen she’d already cleaned after Chrissy and the kids had left, the laundry folded and put away. She had in mind to fill Chrissy’s freezer compartment, modest as it was, with some meals to reheat after a long day at work.

She’d prepare them a dinner to remember tonight, as well, and when they arrived, the rest of the apartment would be sparkling.

Maybe Laura couldn’t keep her husband’s interest, but making a home, a refuge—this, she understood. There wasn’t a lot her sister would allow her to do for her, but Laura could stock her pantry and grant her some leisure while she was here.

And it would take her mind off the man who was breaking her heart.

She plucked Puddin’s leash from atop her suitcase. “Okay, boy. Here we go.”

Laura had no idea what her next step should be.

So she would just stay busy until she did.

Jake peered into the mirror at the creases on his face from where he’d gone prostrate on the bed and apparently not moved an inch for hours.

What did Laura see when she looked at this face? Damn, he was getting old. Gray at his temples—yeah, he’d rather say silver, but facts were facts—and not quite the hard, flat belly he’d had for most of his life. He was in better shape than a lot of his colleagues, but the resemblance to the man Laura had married was not as strong as it had been.

He seldom gave a moment’s thought to his appearance these days in more than an
I’m clean and everything’s covered
sense. He’d been a sharp dresser as a plastic surgeon, since appearances had been crucial to his practice, but he’d happily returned to the blue jeans of his youth after switching specialties. At work he wore scrubs and his white lab coat. Trauma victims cared little for your appearance, only about your competence.