“No. Gil had to make a trip to Phoenix today.”
She cast him a curious glance as she helped herself to the pizza. “I’ll bet Gil has been looking into Joel’s death. Did Maureen mention anything about it?”
He’d promised Maureen he wouldn’t mention that the two of them had ridden to water pump number nine. And he would keep that promise. But he didn’t want to lie to Emily-Ann, either. “Only in passing. She’s aware that her sons have been investigating the matter. I get the impression she has her own ideas about Joel’s death. I can see that Maureen isn’t a vindictive person, but if it was ever revealed that Joel was murdered, she’d damn well want justice served.”
“And who could blame her for that? Losing Joel was like sticking a knife in the heart of the family.”
Taggart didn’t make a reply to that and as long seconds ticked by without her saying more, he was relieved that she’d decided to drop the gloomy subject.
“You look exceptionally pretty tonight. That dress is nice.” The green-and-white fabric formed a ruffle that fell just off her creamy shoulders. The top part of her hair was wound into a bun, while the rest hung loose against her back.
“Thanks. Actually it’s a gift from Camille. She loves to buy me things even though I tell her not to.” She looked at him with sad acceptance. “She tells me that she and Matthew are going to be leaving for Red Bluff next week. It’ll probably be ages before I see her again.”
“Maybe not. Matthew has TooTall to keep things going while he’s away. They’ll probably come in for a holiday or special occasion.”
The smile she gave him was wan at best. “I hope so. Anyway, I can tell when we talk that she’s missing the diner and her friends at Dragoon. Maybe they’ll make the trip back up here for Sam and Gabby’s wedding. That’s going to be a very special occasion. Isabelle tells me they’re going to throw a big shindig on the Bar X and invite the whole countryside.”
His sigh was heavy. “I’m not surprised. Weddings seem to be important functions around here.”
She looked at him as though she wanted to say something, then quickly changed her mind. Was she thinking it was about time she had a wedding of her own?
Don’t be stupid, Taggart. Emily-Ann hasn’t known you long enough to fall in love with you, much less decide she wants to be your wife.
Maybe not, Taggart thought, as he fought against the voice inside him. But when she held him, kissed him, he felt as though she was pouring her heart out to him. And he’d been just greedy enough to take it. Or maybe he’d been misinterpreting all those sighs and kisses and words of desire whispered in his ear. A woman could enjoy sex without having her heart involved. Could be she was beginning to think Taggart was a dead-end street and she wanted to travel down a bigger and better avenue. One where she could find a man more than willing to marry her.
Finally she said, “Weddings are very important—to some people.”
He didn’t know what to say to that and after a moment they both fell silent until she pushed back her plate.
“One piece is all I can eat,” she said. “You can save the rest of it for your supper tomorrow night.”
He’d never known Emily-Ann to be a finicky eater. “Are you feeling ill?”
“No.” She smiled at him as though to prove it. “I’m fine. I just had a very busy day. I had to try to take a test between waiting on customers this morning. It was chaotic. I only hope I passed.”
“I had a surprise this morning,” he told her. “I got a message from my sister saying that Dad had been bugging her for money. He’s threatening to come out here to Arizona.”
Her brows lifted. “Threatening? That’s a strange word to use in connection with your father.”
“Well, if you knew him, you’d understand why I worded it in that way. He causes trouble wherever he goes. And he doesn’t ask, he demands. I don’t want to have to deal with him, Emily-Ann. And I certainly don’t want the Hollisters to meet him.”
She reached across the table and smoothed her fingertips over the fresh scar where he’d been bitten by the stallion.
“I wouldn’t worry. I’m betting he doesn’t have the money to make the trip out here. But he wants you to think he’ll show up so that you’ll send money to him. Just to make sure he stays away.”
“You’re probably right. And I can’t be worrying about him now. I just don’t want him harassing my sister.”
She rose from the table and crossed the room to where the coffee machine sat at the end of the cabinet counter. As she began to gather the makings, she said, “Sounds like she’s the one who needs to make the trip out here. A one-way trip.”
“I’ve considered the idea of asking her to move here. But I need to get some things...settled before I do.”
After she flipped the switch and the coffee began to brew, she walked back over to the table and rested her hands on the back of his shoulders. “What kind of things settled? Your job is secure. And you have a nice home here. You don’t have anything else to settle—unless you’re talking about your finances.”
It suddenly dawned on Taggart that sometime during the past month they’d quit talking like people who were simply dating and started conversing like a man and wife. He couldn’t rationalize how or why that had happened. Except that somewhere along the way he’d made a huge mistake. He’d slowly and surely allowed himself to get too close to Emily-Ann.
“I’m not concerned about that.” He tilted his head around so that he could look up at her. “When the coffee finishes, I’d like to go to the living room. I need to talk to you about something.”
* * *
Deep down, Emily-Ann had always known that sooner or later, she’d get the old “we need to talk” from Taggart. Yet she’d thought, or maybe she’d been hoping more than thinking, that she wouldn’t hear those final words from him for a long, long while.
And why not? Everything had been going so great between them. If all the passion he’d showered on her this past month had been an act, then he deserved an award for the performance. But passion wasn’t love, she realized. And love was the binder that held two people together. Not a set of sweaty sheets.
Emily-Ann carried a tray with their coffee and a saucer of Reeva’s homemade cookies into the living room and after setting it on the coffee table, she eased down next to Taggart.
He looked unusually tired this evening and she wondered if spending most of the day with Maureen had stressed him out. Not that the woman was difficult to get along with. On the contrary, she was a joy to be around. But she and Blake were Taggart’s bosses. He might’ve been feeling like he was under a microscope. Anyway, what did any of that matter now? she glumly asked herself.
Getting right to the point, she asked, “So what did you want to talk to me about?”
He reached for one of the coffees and took a long sip before he spoke. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about you and me. We’ve been spending a great deal of time together—both of us driving back and forth from here to Wickenburg. Which is hardly a short distance.”
“I haven’t minded.” Her palms were so sweaty she had to wipe them on a napkin from the tray before she could pick up her coffee cup.
“I don’t feel good about it, Emily-Ann. I worry about you driving in the dark on these lonely dirt roads. It isn’t safe.”
She didn’t know where he was going with this. “I guess you’re thinking about your late wife now.”
He looked at her with something like surprise and then the expression turned to a glower. “No. I’m not thinking about her. I’m thinking about you—being safe.”
“Oh. But surely you’re not thinking you’ll do all the driving to my place.”
“No. I’m not. I’m young and healthy, but I don’t think I could hold up to that pace and work, too.”
Over the rim of her cup, she studied his face and tried to int
erpret the expressions she saw in his eyes and on his lips. He looked frustrated and lost and most of all weary. But from what? Was she doing this to him?
“Okay. So I guess this means you want us to slow down. To just see each other once in a while. Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
He looked at her and frowned. “Hell, no. What I’m trying to tell you is that I want you to move in with me.”
Emily-Ann had never been so stunned in her life. For the past fifteen minutes she’d resigned herself to the fact that he wanted to end things. Instead, he was asking her to move in!
She must have stared at him far longer than she thought because he finally scooted to the edge of the cushion and squared around to face her.
“Well? You’re not saying anything. What do you think?”
“I wasn’t expecting this from you.” Dazed, she rose and walked across the room to where the main door had been left open to allow the cool night air to sift through an old-fashioned screen door. “If you want me to be completely honest, I don’t like it.”
Her throat was so thick she was surprised he’d heard the choked words. But he must have because he was suddenly standing directly behind her and so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body.
“Why don’t you like it?”
How could she begin to answer his question when she couldn’t even explain the reasons to herself? She only knew that if she moved in with Taggart, she’d be giving up everything she’d ever wanted for herself.
“I—just don’t think it’s a good idea,” she whispered, as the reality of his feelings were suddenly becoming quite clear to her.
His hands came down on her shoulders and for a second the emptiness inside of her wanted to turn and grab hold of him.
“You have something against a man and a woman living together—is that it?”
“No. It’s probably the right choice for some people. Just not for me.”
Awkward moments of silence began to tick away as she held her breath and waited for his response. Yet even as she clung to the tiniest hope that he’d say something—anything about loving her, she knew deep down that he was never going to have those kinds of feelings for her.
“I thought you liked being with me,” he reasoned. “And I definitely want to be with you. I thought us living together here on the ranch was a good solution.”
A solution to what? she wanted to ask. His urge to have sex whenever he wanted? Maybe that was enough for him, but not for her.
Her throat aching, she whispered, “Moving in with a guy has never been what I’ve planned for myself, Tag.”
He tightened his hold on her shoulders. “A person can change their plans.”
“Yes, and I can see I’m definitely going to have to change mine.”
“What does that mean?” he asked.
Summoning up more strength than she ever dreamed she possessed, she turned to face him and then nearly wilted as her gaze met his. Confusion and disappointment swirled in the brown depths of his eyes.
She said, “It means that I think it would be best if we didn’t see each other anymore.”
He visibly flinched and she realized she’d surprised him. No doubt he’d seen her as too besotted with him to walk away. Well, she was besotted with the man, she thought sickly. More than that. She was in love with him. But no way would she ever admit that to him now. No, at least this way she could walk away with some shred of pride in herself.
“Are you serious?”
“Never more so,” she said flatly. “You’ve made your feelings clear, Tag. And frankly, we’re not on the same page.”
A scowl caused his brows to form one dark line. “Am I supposed to understand that?”
Sighing, she reached up and gently touched her fingers to his dear face. For days after he’d given her the flowers, she gazed at them and allowed herself to believe they might have a real future together as man and wife—the whole family shebang. What a gullible idiot she’d been.
“No. I don’t expect you to understand, Tag. And I’m sorry that you feel slighted. It’s all my fault, really. When we first met, you made your feelings clear about love and marriage. I should’ve run from you then. But I didn’t. So here we are at a dead end. That’s all.”
She hadn’t thought it was possible for his frown to go any deeper but somehow it did. Taut lines ran from the corners of his mouth and eyes and furrowed his brow. He looked like a man in physical pain, but she knew that wasn’t the case. Not over losing her. A man had to love beforehand to experience that kind of loss.
“Love and marriage? Don’t you think you’re rushing things?”
His disbelief verged on the comical and the reality that he considered love and marriage to her a joke was all it took to have her backing away from him.
“Get this straight, Tag, I’m not asking anything from you. Now or ever! So relax. Go have yourself a good laugh.”
She stalked over to the end table where she’d left her handbag when she’d arrived earlier this evening. After shouldering the leather strap, she walked back to the door with King trotting right on her heels.
“This is your way of solving things?” he asked, his voice incredulous.
She struggled to keep her lips from quivering. “There’s nothing to solve. I’m glad for the time we spent together, but all good things come to an end. We both know that. But if you ever decide you want a cup of coffee and a pastry, you know how to find Conchita’s.”
She pushed past him and out the door. In spite of the pain ripping her heart and the tears swimming in her eyes, she put one foot in front of the other until she was down the porch and out to her car.
When she opened the door to climb in, she realized King had followed her and the sight of the whining dog was enough to cause a sob to slip past her lips.
Kneeling down to him, she cradled his face with both hands. “King, you can’t come with me. You have to stay here on the ranch and hunt cows in the brush. That’s your job. Tag will take care of you and someday—maybe—I’ll see you again.”
She dropped a kiss on top of the dog’s head, then quickly climbed in the car and drove away. It wasn’t until she was a quarter mile away from the house that she noticed King was chasing after her.
Blocking the dog and Taggart from her mind, she pressed down on the accelerator and headed the car onto the main road that would take her back to Wickenburg. Where she belonged.
* * *
Taggart stood on the porch and stared into the darkness where Emily-Ann’s taillights had disappeared only minutes before.
What in hell had just happened? How could she just leave like that without giving him a chance to explain and reason with her?
Forget the past. Move forward. Hell! That’s exactly what he’d been trying to do when he’d asked Emily-Ann to move in with him. But she’d taken the invitation as an insult. Maureen’s theory on life was probably good for her, but it hadn’t work for Taggart, he thought glumly.
He muttered a curse, then stuck two fingers in his mouth and let out a loud whistle.
“King! Come here, you damned traitor! There’s no use chasing after a woman who doesn’t want us!”
A couple of long minutes passed before the dog finally emerged from the dark lane and trotted up to the house.
As King approached the porch, Taggart started to give him a harsh scolding, but that plan was waylaid the minute the dog sat down next to him and let out a pathetic whine.
“Okay, boy,” Taggart said, as he bent to pat the dog’s head. “You’re not in trouble. You’ll just have to forget about her. That’s what I’m going to do.”
He turned and started back into the house and King determinedly trotted behind him. When they reached the screen door, Taggart hesitated for only a moment before he allowed the dog to follow him into the house.
The
tray of coffee and cookies that Emily-Ann had carried to the living room were still on the coffee table. He picked it up and carried it to the kitchen where their meal of pizza was still scattered over the table and nearby cabinet counter.
Taggart began to clear away the mess, while wishing he could clear away the agony and confusion he was feeling.
Today, for the first time in years, he’d decided it was time to try to tear down the walls he’d built around his heart. Not just because Maureen had suggested he move on from the past, but because he felt like things between him and Emily-Ann had reached a point where snatching pieces of time here and there to be together was no longer enough. He’d thought having her move in would be the next logical step. Then he’d have plenty of time to get used to the idea of having her in his life for the long haul. He’d have a chance to decide if he really wanted to commit that much of himself to her.
And what the hell was Emily-Ann supposed to do while you sat around trying to make up your mind, Taggart? She deserves more than a trial run from you and you know it. So if that’s all you can give her, then you got exactly what you deserve—a swift goodbye.
Damn. Damn. Taggart silently cursed as he tried to shut out the condemning voice in his head. Didn’t he have a reason to be cautious? Didn’t he have a right to think things through before he handed another woman his heart?
Yes, he did. But that didn’t mean he had the right to take her to bed and expect that to be all she needed or wanted, he thought miserably.
Jamming the leftover pizza back into its box, he shoved it into the refrigerator, then got out his phone and punched his sister’s number.
He was sinking into a chair at the table when she finally answered.
“Hi, Tag. How’s my sweet brother?”
Sweet? Right now he felt as bitter as a green persimmon. “I’m fine,” he lied, while wondering what he could do to get the clenched knot out of his stomach and the pain in his chest to go away. “I’m just calling to check on you.”
There was a moment’s pause and then she said, “I’m sorry if my text this morning caused you to worry about me. Everything is okay, Tag, really. I can handle Dad.”
The Texan Tries Again (Men 0f The West Book 44) Page 17
