The Next Mrs. Blackthorne (Bitter Creek Book 6) (22 page)

Clay smiled and said, “I had my mechanics check everything carefully and then keep a close eye on the plane.”

“So you might be in danger, after all?” Libby asked as she edged toward the opposite end of the couch, as far from him as she could get.

“I’ve made a lot of enemies as a prosecutor, and then as the attorney general for Texas and U.S. attorney general,” Clay said, turning his body to face hers. “If I let threats worry me, I wouldn’t be able to leave the house.”

Libby looked around and said, “This cabin is so isolated we’re either very safe or a very vulnerable target.”

Clay pointed to the windows and said, “Bullet-proof glass.” He pointed to the guns on the wall and said, “Plenty of ammunition to go with these.”

Libby laughed. “I wonder if Kate arranged for us to stay here to make sure you’d be safe.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Clay admitted.

“Do you suppose she and Jack have arrived by now? Should we call them?”

The moment of truth had come. Clay took a deep breath and said, “Jack had to work this weekend. So Kate decided to stay in Austin.”

Libby sat forward on the edge of the couch. Clay thought she looked ready to bolt and felt his stomach lurch. He hadn’t realized until this moment how much he wanted this time with her. He wasn’t sure what he hoped would happen over the weekend. But he was pretty sure if he let Libby walk out of his life this time, it would be forever.

She sat perched tensely on the couch, her blue eyes never leaving his. “You came knowing Kate and Jack wouldn’t be here?”

Clay nodded, cleared his throat and said, “Yeah.”

“Why?”

Clay hadn’t expected to be asked for an explanation, and he gave the excuse that seemed most logical. “We still need to figure out how to separate those two.”

Libby dropped her gaze so he couldn’t see what she was thinking. He realized that if they were going to have any sort of chance to resolve things between them over the weekend, he was going to have to take the first step, so he added, “And I wanted to spend time with you.”

He held his breath waiting for her to look up. When she finally did, what he saw in her eyes was distress.

“I haven’t changed my mind, Clay. I’m not going to fall into your arms. Or into your bed.”

Clay flushed. He’d been imagining exactly that scenario. In the past, he was sure, all he would have needed to do was beckon, and Libby would have come running. He’d certainly been holding all the cards. Things had definitely changed. Now he was the one wanting a relationship, and she’d put up a stone wall to keep him out.

He knew he ought to apologize for his past behavior, clear the air, make a clean breast of the things he’d realized about himself, explain why he’d been so unwilling to forgive. But it was so unusual for him to apologize—for anything—that he found the words “I’m sorry” caught in his throat.

“I was hoping you’d reconsider,” he said instead.

Libby rose and crossed to the fireplace, putting her hands out to catch the warmth from the fire. “No.”

Clay crossed to stand behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders and felt her tense. “I want another chance, Libby.”

She eased herself free and turned to face him, her blond curls bouncing on her shoulders as she shook her head. “I’m not going to let you hurt me again, Clay.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. I’ve never wanted to hurt you.”

She laughed scornfully. “Right.”

“Maybe I did once upon a time,” he corrected.

She crossed her arms and lifted her chin.

“A long time ago.”

She tilted her head and glared up into his face.

“Maybe even more recently,” he conceded. “But I had good reason.”

Libby threw her hands up in apparent frustration. “Good reason? I was sixteen years old when I hurt you. I was in love. I thought being with me would ruin your life, so I lied to you. I’ve paid dearly for it every day since.”

“I know.”

“You know? You
know
?” Libby said, her voice sharp.

Clay flinched.

She stepped deeper into his space, and Clay had to force himself to stand his ground. He resisted the urge to take hold of her arms, to keep her at a distance. He had to let her in. Finally. At last. If he wanted any kind of future with her, he had to hear what she had to say. And let himself feel her pain.

Except he had no idea how he was supposed to do that. He’d been catered to all his life, so he had no experience being empathetic. Partly, it was because he’d been his mother’s spoiled, favorite child. Partly, it was because he was and always had been rich and hadn’t needed to pander. Partly, it was because from a very early age he’d been in a position of power. People answered to him. He didn’t answer to them.

How could he begin to comprehend what Libby had been through over the past twenty years? How could he expect her to forgive him for walking away from her? How was he going to convince her that he’d never stopped loving her even when he’d been married to one woman and gotten engaged to another? All he could do was try.

“I’m listening,” he said.

Libby opened her mouth to speak and shut it again. “Talking isn’t going to solve anything.” She backed up two steps, then crossed to where he’d dropped the two overnight bags, picked hers up and slung the strap over her shoulder. “Will you fly me out of here? Or shall I take the car?”

“Don’t leave. Please. We won’t talk about us. I won’t even mention us. We’ll focus on Kate and Jack.”

Libby pursed her lips. “I don’t want you thinking that if I stay here I’m capitulating to—”

“I wouldn’t think that,” Clay said. But he now had some idea exactly how thick and how high she’d built that stone wall to keep him out.

“I am concerned about Kate,” she said. “Did you know I went with her to try on wedding dresses?”

“I’ll bet she was beautiful.”

Libby frowned. “Beautiful. And flippant.”

“Flippant?” Clay crossed and slipped the luggage strap from Libby’s shoulder and set the bag back on the ground. “By the way, how about something to drink? There’s a bar here with anything you want, and I’m sure Summer and Billy keep the refrigerator stocked.”

“Something hot,” Libby said, rubbing her arms against an apparent chill.

With another woman, Clay would have stepped closer and warmed her himself. But Libby had set boundaries he had to respect. Boundaries he had to hope she would relax as the weekend progressed. He thought of all the pressure he normally brought to bear when he wanted something and was determined to have it. None of those tried-and-true methods were going to work with Libby.

He was going to have to humble himself. He was going to have to grovel—if necessary. He was going to have to give Libby the chance to hurt him as badly as he’d hurt her all those years ago. And pray that he could free the love she’d once felt for him from whatever deep, dark place she’d buried it.

Clay felt his stomach turn over. So much was at stake. He felt like he was walking through a mine-field, and any wrong move could end in disaster. He headed for the kitchen to get something hot for Libby to drink, and she followed after him.

“Hot tea? Coffee? Cocoa?” he said, as he looked through the cupboards.

“Cocoa sounds great,” she said. “Let me help.”

Clay was surprised how easily they moved around the kitchen together, searching through cupboards and drawers to find what they needed to make the packages of instant cocoa he’d found.

“Porch swing?” he asked when they each had a cup of cocoa in hand.

“Sure,” she replied.

She followed him to the wide back porch, which had a second-story veranda above it, from which hung a white wooden swing. He didn’t turn on a porch light, so the only light came through the screen door from the kitchen. He sat down on the swing, setting his cocoa on a nearby table, and waited for her to sit beside him. Instead, she settled in one of a pair of pecan rockers that were situated nearby.

Clay told himself he couldn’t expect miracles. That he had to be patient, even though patience wasn’t one of his virtues. He had to consider Libby’s wants and needs—and her fear that he would hurt her again. Maybe the best thing was to keep the focus of any discussion on Kate and Jack and let things between the two of them happen as they would.

“Tell me about the wedding dresses,” he said.

Libby balanced her cocoa in both hands and set the rocker in motion with her foot before she spoke. “I know she’s a grown-up. She’s in college, after all. But when I saw her in those wedding gowns, I couldn’t ignore the fact that she isn’t my little girl anymore. Soon she’ll be married and on her own.”

“And you’ll be all alone,” Clay said, when she didn’t say it herself.

“My life is very satisfying,” Libby said.

“Even without a man in it,” Clay finished again.

“Yes. Infinitely more comfortable, I think, than yours without a woman in it.”

Clay smiled. “Touché. Tell me about Kate being flippant when she was trying on dresses. What was that all about?”

“Trying on wedding gowns should be fun,” Libby said, keeping the rocker moving, making a pleasant creaking sound against the wooden porch. “But Kate didn’t seem to really care whether she found a dress she liked or not.”

“Which means what?” Clay asked.

“I think she was flippant about trying on dresses because she’s having second thoughts about getting married.”

“That’s good news,” Clay said. “Isn’t it?”

“Maybe. What if Jack didn’t have to work this weekend? What if they’ve decided to spend the weekend together in Austin, and they let us come here because they didn’t want us around?”

“There’s another scenario that also works,” Clay said. “What if Jack having to work is an excuse Kate gave us because she was too embarrassed to admit he opted out of a weekend with her and her parents?”

“That’s certainly a possibility,” Libby said. “I just wish we knew which scenario is the right one. I hate to think of Kate being hurt, but I’d rather Jack dumped her now than after they’re married.”

“I hate to think of my daughter being a fling for some playboy ex–football hero,” Clay said.

“Would you rather he married her?” Libby said wryly.

Clay grimaced. “I suppose when you put it that way, a fling has its merits.”

Libby laughed. “I can’t believe we’re discussing our daughter’s love life.”

“Better hers than ours.” Clay hadn’t meant to sound embittered, but he was having a hard time biting his tongue. He was a man of action. It was hard to pretend there was nothing wrong, hard to pretend they were just two ordinary parents discussing their child.

The silence grew until Clay realized he could hear the cicadas and the rustle of the wind through the bushes and the distant lowing of the Santa Gertrudis cattle his family raised on the ranch.

He rose from the swing and crossed the porch to sit on the railing that surrounded it, closer to Libby. “I miss being here.”

“Didn’t you tell me you left Bitter Creek to go to college and never came back? If you liked it so much—”

“Not being the eldest son, there was never any chance I was going to be the one running Bitter Creek,” he said. “Trace was always destined for that role. It’s ironic that he ended up running a cattle station in Australia and Summer, the youngest of us, and the only girl, ended up in charge of the ranch.”

“Would you have wanted to be a cattleman?” Libby asked.

“I might have enjoyed it. As I said, I wasn’t given much choice.”

“You could have found a job that would keep you in Levi’s and boots,” Libby said. “Owen became a Texas Ranger.”

Clay had sometimes envied his twin. He certainly respected him. “My mother had different plans for me.”

“I never think of you as someone who would let someone else run his life.”

“I don’t think I realized my becoming president was her dream and not mine, until I was a long way down the road to achieving that goal,” Clay admitted.

“I never wanted to become a mother,” Libby said into the silence. “I did enough mothering as a child in my father’s household to last me a lifetime.”

Clay worked to keep the shock off his face. Before he could figure out how to respond to such a momentous statement, she was speaking again.

“I mean, there was never a mother figure in my life to make me think that being a mother was a good thing. King married my mother, a woman he didn’t love, and she presented him with two offspring, North and me. When she died—of heartbreak, I sometimes think—he married his second wife.

“Lenora didn’t last long. Once she realized King wasn’t going to open his wallet for her, and that he expected her to take care of two little kids, she asked for an annulment. King married Sassy next, and you know how that turned out. She took Breed with her when she left.

“King’s third wife, Jill—or fourth, depending on how you count—presented him with three children in five years, my half brothers and sister, Taylor, Gray, and Victoria. But King’s eye was already wandering, and Jill decided in a fit of pique to divorce him. Of course, she didn’t want anything to do with King’s Brats, who’d become infamous in the neighborhood for causing trouble. She left them behind when she hit the road with a big divorce settlement.