The Texan Tries Again

by Stella Bagwell

  “Thanks,” he said, “but I’m fine.”

  Feeling more nervous than she could ever remember being, she sat down on the couch directly opposite of where he was sitting. As she smoothed her skirt over her knees, she could feel his gaze sliding over her and to know he was looking at her was enough to light a fire in her cheeks.

  “So how—”

  “I thought—”

  They both spoke at the same time and then laughed.

  “Sorry,” Taggart told her. “You go first.”

  “I was only going to ask you how things are going on the ranch,” she said, while thinking how terribly sexy he looked tonight. He was wearing a deep blue shirt with black diamond-shaped snaps down the front and on the cuffs. A bolo tie with a slide fashioned from black onyx hung loosely below the collar of his shirt. He looked dressed up without being too fancy. In fact, he looked exactly right.

  “They’re going great. Better every day, in fact.”

  “That’s nice. I’m glad for you. And the Hollisters,” she added. “Before you came, Blake and Maureen were very concerned about losing Matthew.”

  “Well, they haven’t exactly lost him. He’s just working a different property now.”

  “Yes. But this ranch in Yavapai County is the biggest one,” she reasoned.

  “I’m reminded of that every day I pull up in the ranch yard and see all the hands coming out of the bunkhouse. Back on the Flying W I maybe had to deal with a third of the amount of men that I do here. For the first day or two after I arrived, I felt daunted by the sheer size of everything.”

  “But now you’re growing accustomed to it, I’m guessing.”

  “More and more every day,” he replied, then glanced around the small room. “You have a homey little place here, Emily-Ann. I like it.”

  “You’re being overly nice, Tag. And it isn’t necessary. I’m sure you see plenty of things that need repairing or replaced. I do what I can, whenever I can.”

  He frowned at her. “I’m not being overly nice. This room feels lived-in and I’m sure the rest of the house does, too. And that’s a nice feeling. It’s something you can’t fake.”

  “Well, the house is very old. I think it was built in the 1940s and had several different owners until my mother moved into it in 1990. I was born a few months later. Some of my friends often tell me I should move into an apartment building. That it would be more modern and I wouldn’t have to worry about the upkeep. Which is true. But I wouldn’t feel comfortable. Here I have a little yard and my neighbors aren’t right on top of me.”

  He smiled. “I think you should tell your friends to mind their own business.”

  She let out a long breath. Maybe Taggart truly was different, she thought. Maybe he didn’t care that her closet wasn’t full of fancy clothes or her house needed repairs. Maybe he actually wanted to be with her just because she was Emily-Ann and no other reason.

  Laughing softly, she said, “That’s not a bad idea. Do you have everything moved into your house now?”

  He chuckled. “Everything is inside the house, but that’s about all I can say. I still have things piled here and there in boxes. But I’m a typical bachelor, Emily-Ann, I don’t care if my bed is made or I have to dig my clothes out of a box. I have more important things to think about. But I like the house. It even has a little fireplace and a small patio out back.”

  “That’s nice. Actually, I’ve never been inside the house,” she admitted. “Camille and I used to ride horses by the place. But, of course, that was years before she and Matthew got together so we never stopped or anything. In fact, right after he went to work for Three Rivers Ranch, he was married to someone else. But his wife was—I’ll just come out and say it—she was awful. You see, she was hollow on the inside. No substance at all. When she flew the coop I don’t think anyone was surprised. Not even him.”

  By the time she stopped speaking she realized he was eyeing her closely. Embarrassed heat suddenly poured into her cheeks. “Oh my, I’m sorry, Tag. I’m running off at the mouth and sounding like the town gossip. But I—didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that I wanted you to know that—well, I think I should just shut up before I make myself look even worse.”

  Shaking his head, he smiled faintly. “You don’t sound like a gossip—you were just telling me about the past. And actually I’m thinking how fortunate Matthew was to have a second chance at happiness.”

  Relieved that he understood, she nodded. “Yes, if only everyone could be that fortunate.”

  Suddenly restless, she rose to her feet and draped the light sweater over her bare shoulders. “If you’re ready to go, I am,” she told him.

  “Sure.” He rose from the chair and levered the hat back onto his head. “I’ve not said anything yet, but you look extra beautiful tonight, Emily-Ann.”

  Beautiful. The only time she ever heard that word and her name coupled together was when her mother spoke them. To hear Taggart call her beautiful filled her with pleasure. It also made her very wary.

  She’d made the mistake of believing a man’s pretty words before. She couldn’t make those same missteps with Taggart. And yet with all of her heart she wanted to believe he was sincere.

  “Thank you. Since you didn’t say where we’d be going I hope my dress is suitable.”

  He stepped closer as he eyed the off-the-shoulder dress made of red calico printed with tiny yellow flowers. A matching belt cinched in the waist, while the tiered hem fluttered against her calves.

  “The dress is perfect,” he murmured. “I like it.”

  Oh my. His voice reminded her of cool water trickling over rough stones. And he smelled like a real man. One with strong hands, broad strong shoulders and a constitution to match.

  “I’m glad,” she said huskily, then clearing her throat, she purposely stepped away from him and retrieved her purse from an end table. “I’m ready.”

  As soon as the last words came out of her mouth, she very nearly laughed. She was far from ready to deal with the feelings that Taggart was creating inside her. But she wasn’t going to shy away from him. For once in her life, she was going to believe, if just for one night, that she was good enough to have this man’s respect.

  * * *

  Jose’s, the restaurant Taggart had chosen, was located on the edge of town, where the empty desert stretched toward a far range of jagged mountains. The building was a rambling, hacienda type with stucco walls painted a pale turquoise and a red tiled roof. A deep porch ran the width of the front and was shaded with a roof supported by arched columns. Potted plants hung from the center of each arch, while an enormous bougainvillea covered with yellow-gold blossoms grew far past the roof. At the opposite end of the porch, a single saguaro with three arms stood against the darkening sky.

  As Taggart and Emily-Ann walked across the graveled parking area to the building, he said, “I’m sure you’ve probably eaten here dozens of times. But Doc tells me the place has great food.”

  “To be honest, Tag, I’m rarely ever out this way. I usually just fix myself something at home. Or if I do decide to treat myself, I grab something close in town. This is very nice. And it’s lovely here, don’t you think?”

  He looked down at her, while thinking nothing could look as lovely as she did at this moment with the twilight falling on her soft features and the smile on her face directed solely at him. He’d never known a woman as guileless as Emily-Ann and when he was with her, he forgot most everything. Even his vow to never let himself care for another woman.

  “If the food is as good as the outside looks, then I think we’re in for a treat,” he told her.

  Inside the restaurant, a hostess ushered them to a table covered with an orange-and-white checked tablecloth. In the center a fat brown candle flickered in the faint breeze wafting down from the blades of a ceiling fan. Beyond the small table, a long window exposed a view o
f the desert, while the sounds of a Spanish guitar played softly in the background.

  Taggart helped Emily-Ann into one of the cushioned chairs, then took a seat for himself. All the while it struck him that he could’ve driven for miles and not found a more romantic spot than this. He’d not exactly planned this type of dinner, but now that they were here, and he saw the enchanted expression on Emily-Ann’s face, he was glad.

  As soon as the waiter arrived, Taggart ordered wine for each of them, then picked up the menu and began to study the long list of dishes offered.

  “I should’ve asked if you like Mexican food,” he said. “But I see they serve typical American food, also.”

  “Oh, I love Mexican food,” she exclaimed. “It’s my favorite. What about you?”

  “Well, where I come from we had what you call Tex-Mex food. It’s a little different from the Mexican food served here in Arizona, but it’s just as good. I like it all,” he admitted.

  “Do you eat in the bunkhouse with the men?” she asked. “Or do you cook for yourself?”

  “I do both. Depending on what I have planned in the mornings or if I’m tied up late with work in the evenings. The cook in the bunkhouse is a gruff old guy. But he makes fairly good biscuits and beans and steak. Blake eats in the bunkhouse, too, on certain days. I think he enjoys being a regular cowboy.”

  Emily-Ann nodded. “Blake went to college to get a degree in ranch management thinking one day when his dad grew old and retired he’d take over the job of manager. No one could’ve dreamed that Joel was going to die so young and that Blake would have to step into his father’s position. Katherine, his wife, says that the job weighs on him at times, but he’ll do whatever he has to do to keep the ranch thriving.”

  The waiter arrived with their drinks and after they’d given him their choices from the menu, Taggart took a long sip of the dry, fruity wine.

  “Do you know Katherine well?” he asked, picking up on their conversation where they’d left off.

  She nodded. “Yes. She comes by the coffee shop on the days that she’s working at the school. She’s secretary for Penny—the school principal.”

  “She and Blake seem like the perfect match.”

  “Perfect,” she agreed. “Their twins are adorable. And their older son Nick is such a nice kid. Blake was the second of the Hollister men to get married. Joe, the deputy, was the first. I know you met him at the party.”

  Taggart had especially liked the youngest Hollister brother. “Yes, I did. He seemed like a quiet guy, but when his mother started talking about ranching, he really opened up. I got the impression that he does quite a bit of ranch work when he’s off duty. By the way, he introduced me to Sam, foreman of the Bar X.”

  Emily-Ann gave him a huge smile. “Ahh, Sam. He’s adorable.”

  “I’ve heard that women find him charming.” He slanted her a wry smile. “I see that includes you, too.”

  Laughing softly, she drew the wineglass to her lips. “What can I say? His face looks like a piece of cracked and crinkled leather. He’s as thin as a rail and his legs are just a little bowed. But there’s something about that old man that—I don’t know what it is. But women feel drawn to him. I think it’s mostly that soft look in his blue eyes when he looks at us. Like he cherishes all females.”

  “Well, he’s certainly snagged a nice one. Isabelle’s mother rarely left Sam’s side the night of the party. I hear they’re going to get married.”

  Emily-Ann sighed and Taggart could see the starry expression in her eyes. She was clearly a romantic. But he’d come to that conclusion the first time he’d met her. So why had he brought her to dinner? Why was he here drinking wine with her and watching candlelight flicker golden fingers upon her bare shoulders?

  Because you’ve lost your mind, Taggart. You’ve forgotten how it felt when you watched Becca being lowered into the ground. Because you can’t remember what it was like to have every dream and hope you’ve ever carried in your heart crushed into bits of ashes.

  No, damn it! He silently cursed at himself as he fought to block out the voice in his head. He hadn’t forgotten anything. But he was determined not to allow the past to haunt him tonight. He was tired of remembering. Tired of living in the past and trying to hold on to a memory that only brought him pain.

  “Honestly, I was shocked when I heard the news about Gabby and Sam,” Emily-Ann replied. “I mean, yes, Sam is a charmer. And I have no doubt he’d treat a wife like a queen. But Gabby is so opposite from him. Besides the fact that she’s probably twenty years younger and very attractive, she’s a city person—an artist. Sam spends his days on the back of a horse.”

  Amused, he grunted. “What do you think I do?”

  “The same thing. But I figure you’re—” pausing, she made a palms-up gesture “—more of a well-rounded man than Sam.”

  “Hah! Don’t kid yourself. I got the impression that Sam has already forgotten more than I’ll ever know about anything. And sometimes it’s that stark difference in people that make them attracted to each other.” He leveled a smile at her. “But that’s enough about those folks. What about you, Emily-Ann? How many hearts around here have you broken?”

  Above the rim of the wineglass, her eyes made a slow study of his face. “Seriously? You have the idea that I’ve broken a heart?” Laughing cynically, she lowered the glass back to the table, but her fingers continued to grip the stem. “That’s funny, Tag.”

  “Why?”

  Frustration tightened her features. “Because—I’m not a girl who men fall in love with. That’s why.”

  He frowned at her. “That’s nonsense.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “But it’s true.”

  “You’ll never convince me.”

  As he watched her lips curve into a wan smile he tried to imagine another man kissing her mouth, feeling her warm breath on his face, tasting the smooth skin of her cheek. But the image refused to form in his mind. Not because she was undesirable; everything about her was alluring. No, it was impossible to imagine her with another man because he was already thinking of her in possessive terms. As his and his alone.

  The faint smile on her face suddenly vanished and she let out a short, mocking laugh before turning her gaze to the window. “Oh yes, you’ll be convinced. You’ll soon learn that I talk too much, that I’m irritating and sometimes even ditzy. I’m a bit plump for most men’s taste and my mouth is too wide. My eyes are too big and I couldn’t grow a long fingernail if I tried.”

  He could see she was deadly serious, but Taggart couldn’t help himself, he had to laugh. “Oh, Emily-Ann, do you realize how ridiculous all of that sounds?”

  Her gaze returned to his face and the cynicism Taggart spotted in her green eyes took him by surprise.

  “Yes, I can admit that most of it is trivial stuff,” she said sullenly. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m Emily-Ann Broadmoor. Everyone knows my father was the real estate tycoon’s son. The one who believed he was too high-class to marry the poor girl he’d gotten pregnant. Too important to be a father to the child she bore, or to ever acknowledge he had a daughter. And I’m no different than my mother, Tag. I’m the girl the guys want to take to bed, but never fall in love with!”

  By the time she spoke the last few words her voice was wobbling and her face had turned to the color of paste. The dark pain in her eyes was like a knife in his chest and he desperately wanted to round the table and take her into his arms. He wanted to tell her in so many ways how very precious she was to him. But that would be the same as saying he was falling for her. He wasn’t ready for that. And from the sound of things, she wasn’t either.

  “Emily-Ann, I—”

  His words were suddenly interrupted as she jumped to her feet and blinked at the tears filling her eyes. “I’m sorry, Tag. I—you’ll have to excuse me.”

  She hurried away from
the table and for a moment Taggart thought she might run from the restaurant completely. Relief rushed through him when he saw her turn in the direction of an alcove where the restrooms were located. Clearly, she was seeking a private space to collect herself. He could only hope she wouldn’t allow this little episode to ruin their evening.

  Sighing heavily, he reached for his wineglass and emptied it with one long swallow. Her emotional revelation had shaken him. Not because they were in a public place. And certainly not because he’d learned she’d been born out of wedlock. Nowadays no one looked down on a woman for being a single mother. Most of the time it was because she’d chosen to parent the child alone rather than enter into a marriage that wouldn’t work. No, the part about her lack of a father hadn’t meant that much to Taggart. Hell, for the majority of Taggart’s childhood his father had been absent and now that he’d grown into adulthood he saw the man even less.

  No, the part of Emily-Ann’s admission that had cut Taggart so deeply was the last part. The part about being used instead of loved. Is that how she viewed most men? Did she put him in that same category? The idea sickened him.

  Where do you come off being so righteous, Taggart O’Brien? Isn’t that exactly what you’ve been thinking about Emily-Ann? You don’t want love or marriage. But when you look at her, you definitely imagine having sex with her. You’re no better than the rest. If you had any gumption about you at all you’d take her home and never see her again. And maybe, eventually, she’ll meet a real man who’ll give her real love.

  Sighing heavily, he wiped a hand over his face, then stared out the window at the darkening desert. He’d asked Emily-Ann to have dinner with him tonight because in spite of the great job he’d just landed at Three Rivers, and the money it was bringing to him, he wanted more than that. She made him feel alive again. She made him feel like a man.

  He couldn’t give her up now. But how did he think he could hold on to her when the very thing she wanted from a man he no longer had? His heart was buried back in Texas.