Wildfire (13 page)

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Rae was walking beside Drew along the little stone path that led through the Dicton Cafe's small Japanese garden when the commotion from next door reached them.

Stepping off the pathway, she moved closer, and even before she drew near the hedge she somehow knew what she would see.

In the parking lot of Rusty's Tavern, at the center of a small knot of people, Tanner had Marty Johnson by the collar, forcing him up against an old station wagon.

She caught her breath as Marty pulled free and hit Tanner in the mouth. Beside her, Drew gave a low chuckle and took her arm to lead her away from the hedge.

"Shouldn't someone make them stop?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

"Marty can take care of himself," Drew said, his voice unconcerned. "And even if he couldn't, Tanner always stops before he does much damage."

She wasn't worried about Marty. It was Tanner. Marty was shorter, but he was a good fifty pounds heavier.

"Why does he do it?" she wondered aloud.

"Tanner?" The man beside her shrugged. "Who knows? I think he enjoys it. For as long as I've known him, he's been fighting his way through life. That's just Tanner."

Drew had grown up with Tanner. He was used to his behavior and couldn't see what an outsider saw. Old Joe had probably been close to the truth when he said Tanner was fighting something inside himself.

Thirty minutes later Rae stood at her front door and watched Drew pull away from the curb. She couldn't even remember what they had talked about on the way home. Her mind, then as now, had been taken over with a problem named Tanner.

After locking the front door, she leaned against it for a moment, chewing absentmindedly at her bottom lip. He wasn't her problem. She knew that. And he wouldn't thank her for worrying about him. He thought he had life and his place in it all figured out. There was no way she could—

The thought died away when she realized that her distracted gaze had passed right over the man in her living room.

Tanner was sitting in an armchair, one long leg slung over the side as he flipped through her photo album.

Glancing up, he said, "Who's this?"

She put her purse on the hall table and walked into the living room. Moving to stand beside him, she looked down at the picture he was pointing to.

"My uncle Titus. Great-uncle, actually. That old man always scared me to death. I don't know why. He was always yelling, 'You, girl, come here,' then laugh when I'd run and hide."

When he moved his finger to another picture, Rae sat on the arm of the chair, leaning down to look at the snapshot. "That's Aunt Boojie, my mother's adopted sister. She couldn't have children, so she compensated by spoiling me rotten. She was always bringing me little gifts, sneaking me chocolate-chip cookies when I got sent to my room."

He pulled something from the back of the album. "And this?" he asked with a grin.

She groaned aloud when she saw the picture of her as a young teenager. "I hate that picture. The shadows make my face look fat. I don't know why Mom sent it to me. She knows I hate it."

"Your face could never look fat. It's a good picture. You have a dreamy look in your eyes, like you're seeing things no one else can see. It's a good picture," he repeated.

"If you say—" She broke off and caught her breath, only now getting a close look at the cuts and bruises on his face.

"Look at you," she said, her voice both reproving and concerned. "Come on, let me put something on those cuts."

Although she had expected him to object, he followed her to the bathroom and sat meekly on a white wicker stool while she cleaned the numerous cuts and abrasions.

"Don't keep me in suspense," he said when she had finished with a cut on his lip. "Spill your guts. Did you bring Drew to his knees?"

"Not quite."

"What—" He let out a loud yelp, when she applied antiseptic to a cut on his cheek. "Holy hell, what is that stuff?"

"Stop whining. If you want to indulge in childish behavior, you have to pay the price."

Picking up his right hand, she shook her head over the scraped knuckles. She was glad she didn't have to see Marty Johnson's face. This fist had done some damage.

"Why are you so quiet?" he asked abruptly. "Are you still thinking about Prince Charming? Did he get you all hot and bothered tonight, Rae? Are you wondering how many dates you have to go on before you can ask him to come in?" His voice was harsh, his eyes cynically bored. "Drew would fit real well in that fluffy white bedroom of yours, but you'd better not let him have the goods too soon. Make him pant for a little while."

She glanced at him, one brow raised. "Just because you had a bad night is no reason to take it out on me."

Dropping his hand, she moved into the bedroom, barely aware that he followed her. How was she going to tell him? How was she supposed to break it to Tanner that all their work had been for nothing?

Drew was a good man. A nice, gentle man. But he wasn't the man for her. Tonight she had discovered an uncomfortable truth. She would never be able to feel anything more than friendship for Drew, and not even a close friendship. When he had kissed her at the front door, she had felt nothing. Nothing. All the sensuality Tanner had set loose in her had slept through the kiss.

She glanced over her shoulder and saw him standing near the window seat, watching her. There was no need to tell him anything, she decided. He would get Lynda just the way he had planned. Drew had lost interest in the blonde and wouldn't mind if Tanner started seeing her.

With a frown adding lines to her forehead, she sat on the bed. Drew wouldn't mind, but maybe Rae would. Tanner didn't need another strictly sexual relationship. He had had too many of those in the past.

Considering their history, it shouldn't have happened, but Tanner and she had become friends. Against all odds, and against the better judgment of both, they had gotten close. And now Rae wanted something more for him, something better than a lifetime of Lyndas. He needed a woman who would look beyond his sexy body, beyond the gleam of wildness in his eyes.

He needed the kind of woman who knew what forever meant.

Tanner was still watching her, his eyes dark and brooding as he waited for her to come out of her preoccupied silence.

Her lips curved in a rueful smile. "Have you ever thought how life has a way of making you wish you were a rock? Rocks are always either being worn down or built back up, but they don't care. Rocks just don't worry about it."

He drew back his head, one brow raised as he stared at her. "How whimsically philosophical."

She shook her head. "You look silly trying to raise your brow like that with your eye all swollen." She paused. "Why were you fighting?"

He shrugged his shoulders, then winced as the movement brought pain. "The guy was a butt-head and needed hitting."

"According to West's Law, they're all butt-heads. What was the real reason?"

He lowered himself to the window seat, moving carefully. "He made a smart remark about my parents," he said without looking at her, "and I just happened to be in the mood to make him regret it."

"Your parents? I thought Old Joe—I mean ..."

He gave a short laugh. "I know what you mean. You were there when Virg started spouting off about me being Joe's bastard. The stupid dipstick. If Virg had a brain, he'd know it couldn't be true. If I were Joe's son, you can bet he wouldn't keep it a secret. He'd go around telling everyone he knew, just to show he could get away with it."

"But Joe raised you?"

"No," he said, smiling, "I raised myself. Joe just gave me a place to do it."

She glanced down at her hands. "Glenna told me she remembers when you and your mother moved to town, but where was your father? Has it been a long time since you've seen him?"

"It will be twenty-eight years in October. I was seven last time I saw him. I have to say this for my old man, he may not have been perfect, but he damn sure knew how to make an exit."

There was genuine amusement in his laugh, but there was something that was not amusement in his eyes, something secret and painful.

"We were living in Abilene. Hadn't heard a word from him in six months, and then one day he just showed up."

He turned sideways and leaned against the side of the small alcove, a reminiscent smile curving his lips. "He took me out to eat. Italian food. I had spaghetti, he had pizza."

Catching her look, he shrugged one shoulder. "It's funny the things that stick in your-memory. I guess it was because we didn't eat out very often. Anyway, when we got back to the house, the two of us sat out on the stoop for a long time, just listening to the night sounds. Dogs, police sirens, a radio somewhere down the street. After a while he started to talk. He told me he had made a lot of mistakes, but he was going to try and make it up to me. He was going to be a better father, the kind of father I deserved. He was going to take me fishing and buy me that red bicycle we saw at the discount store."

He drew in a slow breath and closed his eyes. "It was the most wonderful night of my life. I can still feel what I felt that night when I went to bed. I was so full of excitement and happiness, I could damn near see it in the room around me."

Opening his eyes, he met her look squarely. "When I got up the next morning, he was gone."

He paid no attention to her sharply indrawn breath, and when he continued, his voice was flat, empty of emotion. "He had taken everything of value in the house. It wasn't much, but it was all we had. I could have forgiven the stealing, I could have forgiven him for taking off without saying good-bye. But I never forgave the way he held out that little bit of hope, then pulled it out of reach again before I could grab hold."

Tilting his head back, he gave a short, rough laugh. "He said he was going to be the kind of father I deserved. For once in his life he was probably telling the truth. He probably thought he was giving me just exactly what I deserved."

Rae had to bite her lip to keep the tears back. Wrapping her arms tightly around her waist, she leaned forward, trying to contain the pain. Dear God, it hurt. It hurt as much as if it had happened to her. He had been seven years old. Seven. Too young, too vulnerable, to face that kind of disillusionment.

"What about your mother?" she asked in a hoarse whisper. "Where was your mother? Why didn't she stop him? Why didn't she—"

A short bark of laughter interrupted her. "You think I have a temper?" he said. "You should have seen her when she came home from one of her all-night romps and found out I let the old man steal the little bit of money she had stashed away."

He turned to raise the window, then glanced back at her. Whatever he had been about to say was lost as he took in the look on her face. He stared at her for a long moment before turning to lower one long leg out the window.

"I figured someone would have told you by now," he said, his voice curiously dead. "Everyone in town knows. My mother was a slut."

Before she could respond, before she could even take in what he said, he was out the window, sliding it shut behind him.

She walked to the window and as she stood, tears streaming down her face, and watched him vault over the back fence, the truth finally hit her.

She couldn't fall in love with Drew because she was already in love. With Tanner.

O
nce Rae had recognized the truth, she couldn't believe she hadn't seen it before. The way she had been fooling herself was almost funny. She had told herself that when she looked into his eyes and felt an instant bond, it was nothing but Lone Dees madness. She said that Tanner annoyed her. She said that he enraged her. She said that although he attracted her, it was only physical.

All lies. Rae hadn't wanted to accept what she was feeling, had denied it vehemently and often, because it scared her. The intensity scared her. The sheer magnitude of her feelings for him scared her.

As she sat at her desk the next day, she reached out and touched the portrait of Johnny, smiling as she ran her fingers over the dear features. What she was feeling now wasn't anything like what she had felt for her late husband. It wasn't warm and gentle. It wasn't comfortable and safe.

Loving Tanner was like that narrow mountain road he had told her about, full of hairpin turns and sheer drop-offs. But she had a feeling that if she ever made it to the top, the view would be spectacular and like nothing else on earth.

Getting there was the problem. Tanner never let anyone close to him. Last night she had wanted so badly to hold him, to rock him in her arms until some of the pain let go. But she knew by the rigid set of his jaw and the excluding look in his eyes that he wouldn't welcome comfort from her.

She leaned back in her chair and stared for a while at the ceiling. Tanner had told her about the wall society had built to keep itself separate from its own nature, but what he didn't say was that he, natural and wild as he was, had also built a wall. He had built a wall around his heart.

He didn't want Rae's love. He didn't need it. Tanner didn't need anyone. It hurt like hell to admit that to herself, but the sooner she learned to face facts, the better off she would be.

An instant later Rae sat up straighter. Better off? Without Tanner? What on earth was she thinking? She was sitting here in her dusty little office, and she was giving up. Without a fight, without a whimper.

She had become the old Rae again.

Rising to her feet, she stiffened her jaw. She wasn't that woman anymore. The new Rae fought for what she wanted.