Crockett came to a stop in front of a smaller building tucked behind the two larger ones. “That’s why I bought the place.” He stepped out of the vehicle.
“How many acres do you have?” She unbuckled and followed him to the door of the metal building that resembled a large garage.
“Couple hundred, give or take.” He unlocked the dead bolt, then punched a code into the keypad near the handle. Finally, he pushed open the door and stepped inside, turning on the overhead lights as he went.
Warehouse-style shelves stretched from front to back, each holding some sort of container. Wooden boxes, plastic tubs, metal lockboxes... She glanced from the large worktable near the door to a framed poster of the Alamo on the far wall. Turning, she noted a historic Republic of Texas map—a replica, she was certain—over the table.
“It’s quite comfortable in here.” Not to mention clean. Even the concrete floor was pristine. “I thought it would be hot.”
“No, sirree. Not with these antiques.” He pointed toward one wall. “This building is insulated and climate-controlled to ensure that the humidity is low, and the temperature remains between sixty-eight and seventy-five degrees year-round.”
“I see.”
He moved to one of the shelves and retrieved a wooden box. He set it atop the table and removed the lid to reveal a tarnished sword. “This—” he withdrew it from its container “—belonged to Santa Anna and is believed to have been used in the Battle of San Jacinto.”
Paisley lifted a brow. “Wasn’t he at the Alamo, too?”
He gave her a harsh look. “Sounds like somebody could use a Texas history lesson.”
“Funny, they didn’t cover that in Georgia.”
Over the next hour and a half, he passionately revealed artifacts and historic documents relating to Texas history. Cherished pieces from Texas’s early years, including a cannon that had been used at the Alamo and a letter written by Stephen F. Austin, along with other items ranging from the cattle boom in 1870s to the oil boom in the early 1900s and countless items in between, none of which were trivial as she’d expected.
“Where did you get all of this stuff?” She watched as he carefully tucked the last box away.
“Some of it was passed down from my grandfather who’d inherited several things from his father.” He moved to another shelf and removed a cloth covering to reveal a scale model of the Alamo. “Papaw and I built this when I was a kid. It’s a replica of how the Alamo would have looked in 1836.” Replacing the covering, he continued, “Of course, I’ve acquired a good many things on my own, too.”
“You must have started young, then, because there’s a lot here.”
“Over thirty thousand pieces at last count.”
“That’s amazing.” She dared to look him in the eye. “I’m quite impressed. This is not at all what I expected. You obviously have a fervor for Texas history.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Guess I come by it honestly. Davy Crockett was my great-great-great-great-uncle.”
She felt a slow smile coming on. “You’re messing with me now, aren’t you?”
“Not at all.” His expression was so serious.
“Is that why your folks named you Crockett?”
“Yes, ma’am. My father was adamant that if he ever had a son that’d be his name.”
“And is that why your son is David?”
He nodded. “David Crockett Devereaux.”
“Why not Davy?”
He shook his head. “That’s not what they called my uncle. Some playwright dubbed him Davy Crockett after his death and, unfortunately, it became forever linked with his folk hero persona. Just like the coonskin cap.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You mean he didn’t wear a coonskin cap?”
“Not once.”
“Well, if that don’t beat all.” She surveyed the space, her heart twisting. “Thank you for showing me all of this. Now I understand your concern. Not only is your collection valuable, it’s sentimental.”
“That it is.”
At least he had a good reason. Not that it made things any more palatable. Because without Crockett, her castle dreams were no more.
* * *
Dark clouds churned overhead as Crockett drove his pickup through the streets of Bliss with his kids later that evening. He’d hoped enchilada night at La Familia would get him out of the funk he’d been in all afternoon. But despite a full belly, his unease lingered.
He should not be feeling bad for Paisley. Yet, ever since she left his place earlier today, he’d been beating himself up. If he didn’t agree to the Renwicks’ deal, her plans for the castle were dead in the water.
Why had the family proposed an all-or-nothing deal anyway? It wasn’t fair to him or to Paisley. Because even though she might not be one of his favorite people, he didn’t want to stand in the way of her dream. He wasn’t that callous, especially after she’d taken such an interest in the items he showed her, asking questions and, seemingly, understanding his apprehension.
“Slow down, Dad.” From behind him, Mac enthusiastically patted his shoulder. “There’s Ms. Paisley!”
His gaze shifted to the corner lot just ahead. Yep, there she was in her side yard, crouched beside a lawn mower.
“Hi, Ms. Paisley.” His daughter all but hung out of the now-open window, waving as they approached.
Standing, Paisley smiled and returned the gesture as he continued past the stately Victorian.
“What are you doing?” Annoyance filled Mac’s voice.
“Trying to get us home before this storm hits.” He pointed to the sky. Definitely more threatening than the patchy clouds that had been there when they came into town. Then again, it was spring in Texas where weather could turn on a dime.
“You can’t just leave her there.” In the rearview mirror, Mac’s dark eyes pleaded with him.
“Why not? She’s already home.”
“But she needs help.”
“And how do you know that?” Glancing at the mirror, he was met with the dreaded eye roll.
“Dad, it was so obvious. A person doesn’t just stare at their lawn mower.” Crossing her arms, she flopped back in her seat. “You’re supposed to be a gentleman.”
His grip tightened around the steering wheel. “Mac, it’s about to storm.”
“I don’t care.”
Still eyeing the mirror, he looked to David sitting behind the passenger seat.
His blue eyes glimmered. “She brought us cookies and brownies, Dad. You should help her.” He nodded adamantly.
Traitors. They could forget about enchilada night next week.
Crockett made a U-turn then rounded the corner and pulled into Paisley’s driveway, wondering why a single woman would want such a big house. Then he glimpsed the sign hanging in the yard. Blissful Bed and Breakfast. He’d forgotten about that.
Twisting to face his children, he said, “You two stay put. This shouldn’t take long.” At least he hoped not.
“But, Dad, we need to thank her for the cookies.” Mac already had her door open, and David was unbuckling his seat belt.
So much for quick.
Shaking his head, Crockett killed the engine and followed them as thunder rumbled in the distance.
“What a pleasant surprise.” Paisley smiled as his children pushed through the gate of the vintage iron fence that wrapped around the yard.
“We wanted to thank you for the cookies.” Mac hugged her Sunday school teacher. “They were so good.”
“The brownies were even better, though.” David’s snaggletoothed, bashful smile was priceless.
Crockett’s heart twisted. While he was doing his best to be both mother and father to Mackenzie and David, times like this reminded him of all the little things they were missing out on without a female influence in their lives. It wasn’t
so bad for David, he supposed, since he barely remembered his mother, but Mac struggled sometimes, especially now that she was about to be a teenager.
Crockett rubbed the back of his neck. Shannon had done a number on all of them, following in the footsteps of his own mother. How a woman could simply walk away from her family was something he’d never comprehend.
“I’m glad you enjoyed them.” Backdropped by a leafed-out crepe myrtle, Paisley wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. “How is school going?”
“It’s so boring.” His twelve-year-old gave an exaggerated eye roll, then quickly brightened. “But we only have two weeks left.”
“And what do you plan to do with your summer?”
Mac’s smile went wide as she tucked a strand of brown hair that had escaped her long ponytail behind her ear. “Whatever I want.”
Crockett couldn’t contain his chuckle. “That’s highly doubtful, young lady. At least, not if you still want to earn some money.”
His words set off yet another eye roll. The wind kicked up as she leaned toward Paisley. “I have to muck stalls.”
“Oh, I see.” Paisley pressed her lips together as though trying not to laugh. “Well, maybe once you’ve saved some of that money, we can go to the city and do some shopping.”
The girl’s expression brightened. “Really? Do you mean it?”
“Of course, I do. But we’ll need to make sure it’s all right with your father.”
He eyed the two, recalling all the times Mac had been let down by her mother. He wouldn’t let Paisley do that to his daughter.
A peal of thunder echoed across the sky, quickly followed by another, reminding him why they were there.
He looked at the woman whose long copper hair was piled on top of her head. “Are you having a problem with your mower?”
She nodded. “I don’t know what’s wrong. It was running fine, then it sputtered and died.”
“Does it need gas?”
Her I’m-not-stupid look was accentuated by a gust of wind.
Clearing his throat, he said, “Mind if I take a look?”
“Be my guest.”
Kneeling beside the mower, he checked the spark plug and throttle. Nope.
Sprinkles peppered his arms as he turned the machine on its side. Thick green clippings spilled out while more lodged around the blades, likely impeding their movement. Setting the mower back on the ground, he glanced around the small yard, noting the thick St. Augustine grass. With all the rain they’d had this spring, the stuff was growing like gangbusters.
Standing, he said, “When was the last time you mowed?”
“Five days ago. And I need to get it done because I have two rooms booked for this weekend.”
Thunder crashed over their heads, making Paisley shrink while Mac and David latched on to Crockett’s waist.
Smoothing a hand over David’s back, he eyed the blackening clouds. “Looks like things are about to let loose.” He looked from Paisley to Mac. “We need to go.”
“Of course.” Paisley had to raise her voice to be heard over the wind.
“No, Dad.” Mac gripped his arm. “What if there’s a tornado and your truck is flipped over?”
“Mac, plea—”
A brilliant flash accentuated by a crack of thunder had all of them ducking.
Both Mac and David whimpered as Crockett locked gazes with a wide-eyed Paisley. “That was too close for comfort.”
“That’s for sure.” Turning, she waved them toward the back of the house as the rain began to pour.
While the kids rushed ahead with Paisley, he grabbed hold of the mower and hurried behind them.
Paisley tucked the kids inside then sprinted to the detached garage and opened the door so he could stow the machine.
When he emerged, she looked up at him. “Thank you. I appreciate you doing that.”
For a moment, he simply stared at her. He’d never seen her so...unadorned. Between the simple work clothes, the rain and the heat, she looked like anything but a fashion model. And she was downright gorgeous.
Forcing himself to look away, he said, “Wind’s picking up. We don’t need any projectiles out there.”
Another loud clap of thunder had her jumping.
“We’d better get inside.” His hand instinctively fell to the small of her back, urging her out from under the eave and into the onslaught of wind-driven rain. The gesture sent a shot of heat racing up his arm.
He quickly pulled back as moisture penetrated his T-shirt and jeans.
Ahead, he saw Mac holding the door open, frantically motioning for them to hurry.
As they neared the covered porch, the hairs on the back of Crockett’s neck stood on end. They had to get inside.
He propelled Paisley toward the door then dove behind her, landing hard on the porch’s wooden floor. Air rushed out of his lungs as lighting so bright it hurt his eyes flashed around him, accompanied by an instantaneous and deafening boom that sounded as though a high-caliber gun had been fired next to him.
From inside, he heard Mackenzie scream. David cried.
Crockett dared a glance through the railings to see leaves and twigs raining down. Then a distinctive snap ripped through the air, sending a chill up his spine.
He covered his neck and head with his hands as a low groan gave way to a loud crash. The sound of breaking glass added to the cacophony as a rush of wind, rain and debris swept over him.
When the racket dissipated, he pushed to his feet, brushing leaves from his hair as he noted the massive tree limb that now stretched across the drive, burying his truck beneath a sea of bright green leaves. His muscles tensed. Thank You, Lord, that my children weren’t in there.
He turned his gaze to the still-open door, an eerie silence enveloping him. Shards of glass and leaves littered the wooden floor. And his children were nowhere to be found.
Chapter Three
“Is it over?” Mackenzie’s bottom lip trembled as she stared up at Paisley with those beautiful caramel eyes.
Inside of her small pantry, Paisley and the kids had huddled together while nature had its way with her house. She didn’t know if it was a tornado or something else, but she was grateful God had prompted her to shelter Mackenzie and David in the tiny space. Simply hearing the chaos had been frightening enough.
She hugged Crockett’s children closer. “I hope so.”
But with the sounds of the storm quieting bit by bit, one question drowned out every other thought: Where was Crockett? She thought he was right behind her. Now she prayed he was all right.
“Mac! David!” Crockett’s panicked cry boomed like the thunder that had finally subsided.
His daughter scrambled to her feet and pushed open the pantry door. “Daddy!”
He hurried toward her. “Praise God you’re all right.”
She leaped into his arms and hugged him tightly. “I was so scared.”
“I know you were, sweetness.”
The loving exchange warmed Paisley’s heart. To her surprise, though, David remained snuggled against her, his body shivering. She cinched him closer and continued to stroke his short brown hair with her fingers, just the way she used to do with Logan. He’d never been a fan of storms either.
Crockett set Mackenzie to the floor and held her hand as he continued toward the pantry. Crouching in the doorway, he rested his elbows on his knees. His hair and clothes were soaked.
Tenderness filled his eyes as he studied his son. “You okay, buddy?”
The boy nodded against her shoulder. But when he looked up at her, she saw a tear streaming down his cheek.
Her heart melted right then and there. Smiling at the frightened little boy, she wiped away his tear with her thumb. “He was very brave.”
Crockett straightened and moved into the space. “Co
me here, son.” He scooped the boy into his arms before extending a helping hand to Paisley.
Warmth infused her when his fingers touched hers. As he pulled her to her feet, she looked into his dark eyes. “Are you all right? You weren’t hurt, were you?”
“I’m fine.” He abruptly let go and turned into the kitchen. “Though I can’t say the same for your house and my truck.”
Following him, she said, “Why, what happ—?” The words lodged in her throat when she looked across her kitchen to see a tree where windows had once been.
“Whoa...” David squeezed his father’s neck.
Shock sifted through Paisley as her gaze traveled from the window to the table and the floor. The entire kitchen was littered with glass and leaves.
She pressed a hand to her stomach, trying to quell the sudden roiling. If she and the kids hadn’t taken shelter, they’d be tending wounds instead of gawking at the wreckage.
“I’m so glad we were in the pantry.” Mackenzie wrapped her arms around Paisley.
“Me, too, darlin’.” Slipping one arm over the girl’s shoulders, she tilted her head to look at Crockett. “Was there a tornado?”
“Lightning strike. Took a big ol’ chunk out of that oak tree beside the drive.” He shifted David to his other arm. “If you think it’s messed up in here, just wait till you see the outside.”
That was all the impetus Paisley needed. Releasing Mackenzie, she picked her way across her war zone of a kitchen, until she reached the back porch where she promptly traded her sandals for a pair of rubber boots.
She had guests arriving tomorrow night for this weekend’s Bliss Barbecue Fest. How would she ever get this mess cleaned up by then?
One step at a time.
With thunder rumbling to the east, she squared her shoulders. That’s right. Everyone was alive and well, and that was all that mattered. Besides, the upstairs rooms were all ready to go, so—
Terror rushed through her. What if that limb broke the upstairs windows, too?
Ignoring the sprinkles dotting her bare arms, she hurried to the corner of the house to survey the second floor, relief washing over her when she saw that the upstairs windows were still intact.
A Future to Fight For Page 3
