by Katie Lane
Even if he was.
He had been thinking about her too much lately. He could understand his preoccupation if he was just replaying their night of sex. But he didn’t think about the sex as much as their conversations. She was intelligent and interesting to talk to. She was also funny. She made him laugh. And it seemed that his infatuation with her was bordering more on like than lust. Which scared him almost as much as the triplets did. Lust he could control. Multiple women had entertained him in bed and he never had a problem forgetting them. But only one woman entertained him out of bed. He enjoyed being with Summer. Like her brother, she made him forget about work and want to enjoy life. And maybe that’s why he liked her so much. She reminded him of Dirk.
It made sense. It also helped relieve some of his fear. He wasn’t infatuated with Summer. She just entertained him in a small town where there was nothing else to do. Once he helped her with her business plan, he would leave Bliss and forget all about her.
He’d read through her plan the night before, and Granny Bon and Dirk were wrong. Summer had a good business head on her shoulders. Her plan was detailed and well thought out. Almost too detailed and thought out. It read like a term paper that she had written for a high school class: She was trying for an A, but she cared nothing about what she’d learned along the way. He had to wonder if Dirk wasn’t right about Summer’s need to succeed overpowering her true desires. Ryker hoped so. He hated to see Summer hurt when she found out her siblings had closed her store. And maybe he could help her by making her see that fashion wasn’t really her cup of tea. It was worth a shot.
With a few hours to kill, Ryker decided to check out Bliss and see if it would be a good spot for a Headhunter call center. It took him all of fifteen minutes to walk from one end of Main Street to the other. While it was a quaint little town with its brick buildings and lamppost flowerpots, it was not a town that most people would want to live in. Especially young people who would be the main workforce behind a call center. The town had no fast food restaurants, theaters, coffee shops, or shopping malls. And there was only one bar and one diner.
It looked like the town was going through revitalization, but that seemed to be due to the history of the town more than anything. There was a line at the Tender Heart museum and the diner named after Lucy Arrington seemed to be full for lunch. With the tourist trade, Ryker could see small businesses doing well here. But he couldn’t see his business doing well.
And yet, it was a nice little town. Everyone he passed smiled and said “hey,” even the group of barefoot kids who raced down the street with dripping Popsicles. The trees that lined the streets were green and full, and the flowers in the pots that hung from the old-fashioned lampposts scented the air. Every store window was decorated in red, white, and blue for the upcoming Fourth. And in front of the museum, an old wagon was parked at the curb, festooned with stars-and-stripes bunting. Sitting on the wooden wagon seat were two mannequins dressed up like an old west cowboy and his mail-order bride.
Ryker had never read the Tender Heart series, but he was interested in history. So he got in line with the other tourists. When he reached the front, he recognized the woman sitting at the counter selling tickets. He knew she was married to the man who owned the gas station, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember her name. She remembered his.
“Well, hello, Ryker,” she said as he stepped up to the counter. “Glad to see you out and about. I heard about the accident and I’m happy you’re looking fit as a fiddle.” She held out a hand. “Joanna Daily. We met at the wedding.”
“Of course. It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Daily.”
“Joanna is fine. Just one ticket?”
“Yes, please.” He pulled out his wallet from the back pocket of the jeans he’d borrowed from Dirk. They were a little snug in the butt and an inch or so too long, but more casual than his dress pants.
Joanna ran his credit card and then handed him his ticket and a museum map. “You enjoy. And if you need anything, you just let me know. A friend of Dirk’s is a friend of the entire town’s. I guess he told you that he’s going to be our next mayor.”
It seemed that Joanna had already decided the vote. He smiled. “He did. And he’ll make a good one.” He moved on so the next person could buy a ticket.
The museum was separated into two parts. One side was devoted to the early history of Bliss and filled with antiques from the late 1800s. The other side was centered around Lucy Arrington and her writing. There was the desk and typewriter she’d written the Tender Heart series on in the 1960s and pictures of her from childhood to adulthood.
The pictures were accompanied with stories about Lucy’s life, including the story of how she’d fallen in love with a cowboy named Justin Bonner and they’d had an illegitimate child together. Below that story was a picture of Granny Bon and next to it a picture of Granny’s daughter. Summer and her sisters looked like their mother. Same coal black hair and same deep blue eyes. But Dotty Hadley’s soft, hesitant smile was more like Autumn than Spring and Summer. Spring’s smile was bright and contagious like Dirk’s, while Summer’s smile was more . . . sensual.
“Beautiful woman.”
The familiar voice made Ryker tense. He turned to see his father standing behind him holding his cowboy hat over his heart. Cord wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at the photograph of Summer’s mother.
“That’s quite a story,” he continued. “When I read the series as a kid, I didn’t even think of the author or that she would have a story of her own going on as she wrote the books.” His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “But I guess that’s how life works. There’s always a story behind the story you actually see.”
Ryker knew there was a lesson in there somewhere, but he refused to accept any lesson from his father. “I thought I made myself very clear yesterday that I don’t want anything to do with you.”
Cord nodded once. “Very clear.”
“So why haven’t you left Bliss?”
Cord looked back at him with eyes Ryker saw every day in the mirror. “I thought while I was here I’d look around.”
“And you just happen to come to the museum the exact same time I did.”
Cord smiled. “Quite a coincidence, isn’t it?”
“Give up. I don’t want a father and I certainly no longer need one.” He turned and walked away.
He moved into the next section. He stopped in front of a display of what a typical cowboy would wear in the 1800s, but he didn’t pay any attention to the clothes behind the glass. His mind was too focused on his father. Why was he still there? Before he could even begin to answer the question, his father’s reflection appeared in the glass of the case . . . right next to Ryker’s own reflection. Try as he might, Ryker couldn’t look away from the similarities. Same height. Same shoulder width. Same unruly hair.
“Funny, isn’t it?” Cord said. “Cowboy wear hasn’t changed that much over the years. I guess jeans and boots just couldn’t be improved on.” His head dipped as he looked down. “Please tell me that you own a pair of cowboy boots.”
He did, but he wasn’t willing to admit it to his father. “Not one pair.”
Cord shook his head. “Now that’s just not right. What are you? A twelve and a half medium width?”
That was exactly right. How had his father known that? Without a word, he moved onto the display of horse bridles and saddles. His father moved right along with him.
“You still ride? Even at five, you were a natural in the saddle. Your mama didn’t want you riding without me behind you so we had to keep our little riding lessons a secret. If she had ever caught you riding that old mare, she would’ve skinned me alive.”
His father had given him riding lessons? Ryker searched his memory, but he couldn’t pull up one image of him and his father. Not one. “I don’t ride,” he said as he moved onto the next display.
His father’s reflection appeared only seconds later. “I figured as much. I figured your mama wo
uldn’t want you to have anything to do with horses. And I can’t say as I blame her. She didn’t want them taking you away too.”
Cord paused, and Ryker watched in the glass as he fiddled with the beads that danged from his leather hatband. The beads were plastic, cheap, and colorful. Not something a world champion rodeo rider would wear. And yet, Cord seemed attached to them. He kept rolling the beads on the leather lace as he spoke.
“But truth be told, it wasn’t the horses that took me away as much as my ego. I just needed to prove that I was the best. But even when I reached number one, it wasn’t enough to fill the hole that was inside me.” He blew out his breath. “Damn, I was stupid.”
Ryker couldn’t agree more. He turned to say so when a potbellied man came hustling over. The star-struck look in his eyes was easy to read.
“You’re Cord Evans.” He grabbed Cord’s hand and started pumping it. “Damn, I can’t tell you what a pleasure it is to meet you in person. I was there in Vegas when you took the 2005 championship. Thought your butt was super glued to that horse’s back the way you stayed on until the buzzer.”
Cord smiled. “One of the longest eight seconds of my life.”
“I bet.” The man pulled out his phone. “Could I get a picture? My friends aren’t going to believe this.” He waved a hand. “Honey, stop being shy and get over here and get in the picture.” A heavyset woman hurried over, her face as red as a beet and her eyes as awestruck as her husband’s. She cuddled up on one side of Cord while her husband held out the phone to Ryker. “Do you mind taking it?” His eyes sharpened. “Hey, are you Cord’s brother? You two look identical.”
“My son,” Cord said, with a pride that was irritating as hell.
As soon as Ryker took a few pictures, he handed the phone back to the man and decided it was time to leave. Talking with his father had made him feel exposed. Like someone had peeled back his skin and bared it to the elements. Every word out of Cord’s mouth seemed to rub something raw inside of him, and he couldn’t take another second of it. Unfortunately, when he got in the truck he’d borrowed from Dirk, it wouldn’t start.
He sat there staring at the gauges, unsure of what to do. He was a whiz with computers, but he knew nothing about car engines. In Dallas, when he had car trouble, he simply tapped his roadside assistance app and waited for help. But he doubted that his app would work in Bliss. Still, he pulled out his phone to try. Before he could input his information, his father knocked on the side window. Ryker tried to ignore him, but it was getting damned hot in the car without air conditioning.
He rolled down the window. “What?” he snapped.
Cord’s eyes narrowed under the brim of his hat. “Pop the hood.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Pop. The. Hood.”
There must’ve been some residual part of him that still listened to fatherly commands because he popped the hood. But he wasn’t happy about it. He started ranting as soon as he got out of the truck. “Are you deaf? I don’t need your help.”
Cord didn’t say a word as he made some adjustments under the hood. “Try it again.”
Ryker hopped back in and tried to start the engine. He was relieved when it sputtered and died. He stuck his head out the window to gloat. “Obviously, you’re not number one at everything.”
Cord slammed the hood and gave Ryker another hard stare. “You have gas, right?”
“Of course I have gas. What do you take me for, an—” He cut off when he glanced at the gas gauge. Shit. He felt his face heat, but he refused to acknowledge that his father was right. It was too bad that Cord was good at reading facial expressions.
“Sit tight. I’ll be back.” He walked across the street to a brand-new pickup truck and jumped in while Ryker sat there and fumed. Around ten minutes later, the truck pulled behind Ryker and Cord got out. He took a red plastic gas container out of the bed and carried it over. Once he’d emptied it into Ryker’s tank, he walked up to the window. “If it was an older model truck like my dad had, you’d have to prime the carburetor. But fuel injected cars don’t need that. She should just start right up.”
Ryker wanted to say something snide about not needing a lesson in auto mechanics, but obviously he did need a lesson. With a scowl that hurt his forehead, he did what his father said. The truck started right up. He sat there for a moment struggling to get the word out. When he finally did, he still sounded like a belligerent teenager.
“Thanks.”
Cord tapped the roof. “No problem, but you’ll need to get to a gas station and fill up before you head out of town. Do you have money?”
Ryker stared at him. Did the man think he was ten? “Probably a lot more than you do.”
Cord laughed. “Sorry. I guess it’s a father thing.”
Ryker wanted to deny it. He wanted to hit the steering wheel and yell as loud as any ten-year-old that Cord wasn’t his father. But he couldn’t. He might not want Cord Evans as a father, but that didn’t change the fact that he was.
Chapter Fourteen
Summer was dreaming about her mama. It was something that happened a lot. In most of the dreams, Summer was searching for her mother in a thick fog, and just as the fog cleared enough for her to see her mom, Summer’s legs would become paralyzed, so she couldn’t run to her. But this time she hadn’t lost her mama in a fog. This time, her mama was holding her close and rocking her in the old rocker recliner at Granny Bon’s house.
Not Autumn. Or Spring. Or Dirk. Just Summer. Just her and her mama. The sun was shining in through the window and warming them. And the scent of honeysuckle was thick in the air. A bee buzzed somewhere nearby and a dog snored softly and soothingly. Tucked safely in her mama’s arms, Summer felt secure and free of responsibilities. She didn’t have to worry about her sisters and brother because mama was right here. She was right here.
Summer squeezed her mama tighter.
A loud hiss and sharp pins of pain ended the dream. Summer opened her eyes to find Watson in her arms glaring at her as his tiny claws sank into her chest.
Summer loosened her hold on the kitten. “Sorry, Wats, I was having a good dream.”
The kitten sent her a disdainful look before jumping off her chest to the porch, where he snuggled between Sherlock, who was snoring loudly, and an Elvis garden gnome complete with a flashy Vegas jumpsuit and microphone.
“What made this dream so good?”
The male voice had Summer sitting up so quickly that she almost flipped the porch swing. As soon as she regained her balance, she looked around for the man the voice belonged to. She zeroed in on a blurry blob sitting in the chair.
“Nice glasses,” Ryker said.
Summer took off the black-framed reading glasses and her vision cleared. Ryker sat in a chair a few feet away. His perfect hair was adorably mussed, and he was wearing a green t-shirt that reflected in the brown of his eyes and faded jeans that showed off the muscles in his legs. His feet were bare and resting on an ottoman and he held a paperback book in his hand. The same book she’d been reading right before she’d fallen asleep.
“How long have you been here?” she asked.
“Long enough to get interested in the rancher and the sassy schoolmarm.” He closed the book and sat up. “But now I’m more interested in your dream.” A sensual smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “What made it so good . . . or should I ask who?”
“If you think I was dreaming about you and our night together, you can think again.”
The smile disappeared, and a frown marred his forehead. She should let him think she was dreaming about some other guy, but instead she told the truth. “I was dreaming about my mama.” She reached down and scratched Sherlock’s ears before she scooped up Watson and snuggled the kitten. “I guess I fell asleep while I was reading. I can’t remember the last time I did that.”
“Reading or napping?”
She laughed. “Both. I haven’t had a lot of time for either lately.”
He link
ed his fingers behind his head and stretched his elbows back. “You don’t have the time? Or you don’t make the time?”
He had a good point. Summer only made time for work. But that would change when Seasons started making money. “If you want to be successful, you have to put in the time.”
Ryker stared out at the yard. “Maybe success isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
She placed Watson on her lap and pushed the swing with her foot. “Thus says the man who’s already proven himself.”
He lowered his arms and continued to stare out at the yard. “I don’t feel like I’ve proven anything. Except maybe that if you’re willing to give up your life, you can make lots of money.”
“Maybe I want lots of money.”
He glanced over at her. “For what?”
She could’ve given him some obvious answer: she wanted a big house and a fancy car. Instead, she told him the truth. “So my family never has to go without anything ever again.”
His eyes flickered with surprise. “I think Dirk has that covered, Summer. He won’t ever let you and your sisters go without.”
“But it’s not Dirk’s job. It’s mine. I’m the one my mama asked to watch out for my siblings before she died. And that’s what I intend to do.”
Once the words were out, she wished she had them back. She hadn’t intended to be quite so honest. She looked away from his intense gaze and continued to push the swing.
“I guess you think it’s stupid. Especially when Dirk has more money than he knows what to do with and Spring is happily married and living in the biggest house in town. But things can happen suddenly in life. My family is a perfect example of that. My Granny Bon didn’t plan on her husband dying and leaving her to raise her daughter on her own. Just like my mama didn’t plan on falling in love with a deadbeat or getting cancer and dying. Things happen. And I want to make sure that if things happen I’m prepared to help my siblings. Not just emotionally, but financially.”
