The Heart Won't Lie

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The Heart Won't Lie Page 16

by Vicki Lewis Thompson


  If all that didn’t convince him that she meant well, he wasn’t going to be convinced. She went over their conversation this morning and tried to think of how it could have turned out better. Maybe if he’d offered his plan as a possibility instead of a certainty, she wouldn’t have been so alarmed.

  But he’d proclaimed his intention boldly, leaving no room for discussion. When she’d tried to initiate discussion, he’d been closed to other options. His comment of you’re right had sounded almost belligerent. Sometime during the night he’d made up his mind and that was supposed to be the end of it.

  She might have let him stumble on if she hadn’t been so closely tied to his decision. But he wasn’t just moving to Wyoming. He also was moving to be with her. If it turned out to be the wrong thing for him, he could break both their hearts. Smoothing the folded sheet one last time, she returned to her room.

  Several hours later, after she’d finally dozed off, she heard everyone come back. Footsteps on the stairs, murmured conversation and muffled laughter were followed by calls of good night. Then, instead of one pair of feet coming down the hallway toward Michael’s room, there were two. And one of them stumbled a bit.

  “Almost there,” said a male voice that was not Michael’s.

  “Thanks, buddy. ’Preciate it.”

  Keri squeezed her eyes shut. The crazy idiot had decided to drown his sorrows, which meant he’d feel like crap tomorrow.

  “Glad to help out, dude.” The voice sounded too young to be one of Pete’s brothers or Seamus O’Connelli, so that left Regan, Tyler’s twin. “You were a riot, tonight.”

  Michael chuckled. “Was I?”

  “I’ve never seen anyone stand on a table and recite Shakespeare’s sonnets while balancing a mug of beer on his head. You got into it.”

  “Know why I did that?” Michael asked.

  “Can’t imagine, but it sure was funny.” A door creaked open.

  “I’m in looove.”

  Keri gasped. Dear God, was he, really? No, probably not. He was drunk and didn’t know what he was saying.

  “Congratulations,” Regan said. “Okay, a little more...there we go.”

  The rest of the conversation was lost to Keri as Regan helped Michael through the doorway and into the room. She lay in the darkness, pulse racing, while she lectured herself not to dwell on an offhand remark by someone who was plastered. No doubt he’d meant it as a joke, something to amuse his new friend Regan.

  But what if he’d meant it? Liquor acted like a truth serum sometimes. But he still shouldn’t move to Wyoming on the strength of that, should he? Even if he loved her, he might still hate living in Wyoming year-round. Then what? They’d have a mess.

  Oh, but the very thought that he might actually love her...that hovered in her mind, a glittering possibility that she dared not believe in. If she reached for it, would it disappear?

  A door creaked again, and footsteps retreated as Michael’s rescuer headed for the far side of the second floor. Another door opened and closed far down the hall, and all was quiet except for the erratic thumping of her heart. She needed to go to sleep, but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

  Eventually she turned on the light and picked up one of her Jim Ford books. Opening it to the back, she gazed at Michael’s author photo for a long time. She’d always been drawn to his eyes, even in a small black-and-white picture. Those eyes seemed utterly sincere. They weren’t the eyes of a man who would say something he didn’t mean, even in a drunken stupor.

  Yet as she started rereading the book, she remembered that this man had allowed his fans to believe he was a seasoned cowhand. She understood his reasons, but maybe he wasn’t as sincere as he looked. Maybe he was capable of blurting out words of love he didn’t mean.

  She continued to read, captured as always by his effortless prose. The clean crisp sentences had been part of the charm of his books. His style had convinced her that he was, in fact, a cowboy because he sounded like one.

  After she’d read a few pages, she was startled to hear Michael’s door open again. His steps whispered along the floor, and she guessed he was navigating the hallway in his bare feet. He walked into the bathroom and closed the door. Seconds later, the shower came on.

  The man she’d thought was passed out in a heap on his bed was awake and in the shower. Putting down the book, she listened while the shower ran. He’d been known to fall asleep in the bathtub. Would he fall asleep in the shower?

  She was about to check on him when he turned off the water. Moments later, the bathroom door opened and he returned to his room. She relaxed a little. He couldn’t be in very bad shape if he’d managed a shower.

  Switching off her light again, she eased down under the covers. A cool breeze through her open window soothed her and she closed her eyes, determined to get some sleep. The next day would be busy and she couldn’t afford to be tired.

  The knock at her door was so soft that she wasn’t sure if she’d heard it or imagined it. Then it came again.

  Adrenaline pumped through her. Only one person would knock on her door at this time of the night. Sliding out of bed, she left the light off as she went to the door. She opened it slowly, and his slurred declaration of love rang in her head as she gazed at him.

  He wore only his jeans, and his dark hair was still damp from the shower. He wasn’t smiling. “I saw your light under the door when I came out of the bathroom,” he said quietly. “I figured we woke you up, and I apologize for that.” He sounded a little hoarse, but not particularly drunk anymore.

  She took a quick breath. “Apology accepted.”

  “Hang on.” He lowered his voice even more. “There are more apologies where that came from.”

  “Oh?” She looked into his eyes, but could read nothing there.

  “I apologize for putting you on the spot about me moving here, and for being such an ass when you offered me some helpful advice. I realize now you had my best interests at heart.”

  She swallowed. “Are you saying that you’ll give the idea more thought before doing anything?”

  An emotion flickered in his eyes. They looked very gray tonight. “Depends on what you mean by anything.”

  “I mean—”

  “Never mind.” A hint of a smile touched his mouth. “I know what you mean. I promise to give the idea more thought, but right now there is something I’d like to do, with your permission.” The flicker in his eyes became a gleam.

  She’d seen that gleam before, and the implication made her tremble with excitement. “What’s that?”

  “I’d like to thank you for your note.”

  That threw her a little. “You’re...you’re welcome.”

  “No, I want to really thank you. May I come in?”

  17

  MICHAEL HELD HIS breath while he waited for her answer. He wasn’t convinced that she was as invested in this relationship as he was. She might have decided by now that he was too moody and not worth the trouble of further involvement.

  But she’d written him that note, turned back his sheets and placed a flower on his pillow. She might not love him as much as he loved her, but apparently she still cared about him a little. If she’d let him, he’d build on that.

  Obviously she hadn’t expected him to show up at her door. The flannel pj’s covered in little bouquets weren’t what women usually wore to entice a lover. They did entice him, all the same.

  She glanced down the hall, as if considering the reality of all the people sleeping upstairs tonight.

  “We’ll be quiet,” he murmured.

  Her green-eyed gaze lifted to his, and mischief danced there. “Do you think that’s possible?”

  “In my world, anything is possible.” He grimaced. What a cheesy line. “Okay, maybe not anything. This won’t be a sexual mara
thon. I’m not up to it. I’ve had quite a bit to drink.”

  “I know.”

  “You do?” He had a horrible thought. He’d assumed their stumbling around had been what had woken her up, but they’d been talking, too, mostly about his sonnet reciting stunt, and then he’d said...oh, hell. “When Regan and I came in, could you hear what we—”

  “Couldn’t make out the words. Just heard you both laughing and mumbling some kind of nonsense.”

  Something in her expression told him that might not be strictly true, but he’d let it go. In his boozy fog, he’d assumed she was asleep until he’d glimpsed her light on after his shower.

  But in spite of all his boorish behavior recently, she seemed to be in a forgiving mood. Smiling, she moved back from her door and opened it a little wider. “You can come in.”

  “Thank God.” He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

  She’d left the light off, which might be better. Lights only alerted others to activity that was none of their business. In the cool silky darkness, he turned his attention to getting her naked.

  “Nice pj’s,” he murmured as he worked at the buttons of her top. His coordination wasn’t quite up to par.

  “Let me.” She gently pushed his hands aside and made short work of the buttons. “I wasn’t expecting company tonight.” Slipping her arms free, she let the top slide to the floor.

  “I know.” He cradled her breasts in both hands, once again struck by her generosity. “After the snotty way I behaved today, you could have refused to accept any.”

  “But you see, I invited you.” She arched into his caress and wound her bare arms around his neck. “On monogrammed stationery, no less.”

  “I noticed that.” He nibbled on her bottom lip and fondled the breasts she thrust so eagerly into his hands. “What’s the S stand for?”

  “Sexy.”

  “Knowing you, I’d buy that.” He brushed his thumbs over her tight nipples. “Knowing who your family is, I don’t.”

  “Suzanne. My mother’s name.”

  “Keri Suzanne Fitzpatrick.” Leaning back, he looked into her eyes. They shone even in darkness, somehow gathering in the soft light flowing in from the window. “You said in your note that you wanted me to be happy.”

  “I do.”

  “Making love to you would make me very happy.”

  “Me, too.” Unwrapping her arms from around his neck, she reached down and untied the ribbon holding her pj bottoms. They fell to the floor. “So let’s.”

  His cock twitched. Considering all the beer he’d consumed tonight, he’d wondered if he’d be able to get it up at all. He’d planned to focus on her and not worry about whether he could fully participate.

  He followed that plan. After shucking his jeans, he guided her down to the bed and revisited his favorite places. He spent more time visiting some than others, and she was obliged to cover her face with a pillow to muffle her cries of release.

  In the process, he discovered that there was life in his cock, after all. Fortunately he was an optimistic kind of guy, and he’d shoved a condom in the pocket of his jeans. She had to find it, though. His coordination continued to be a little questionable.

  He also required her help in putting on the little raincoat. Consequently, he decided against trying any fancy positions. Besides, the missionary had lots of pluses going for it, in his opinion. He’d never understood why it had a reputation for being boring.

  Braced above her, he slid inside the warm sheath of her body with gratitude and joy. He wasn’t even slightly bored. Then he kissed her, and she kissed him back. Yes, she definitely liked him. A woman who kissed with that much enthusiasm wasn’t indifferent.

  But he’d scared her this morning with his news, and he’d take that as a lesson learned. If he wanted her, and he did, then he had to behave like a rational human being. Then maybe she’d believe that he loved...ah...so sweet...loved everything about her...mmm...especially...most especially...this.

  * * *

  KERI HADN’T SLEPT much, but the next day she drew energy from knowing that she and Michael had mended the rift between them. Whatever the future might bring, at least on this special day of Sarah and Pete’s wedding, they would enjoy that unspoken connection that had united them from the moment they’d met.

  The morning and early afternoon passed in a blur. Then, before anyone was quite ready for it, they had less than an hour before the ceremony. Keri and Mary Lou shooed everyone away so they could shower and change.

  Then the two of them tucked any remaining wildflowers in vases and straightened the rows of white folding chairs arranged in the living room. All the furniture had been stacked in the backyard and covered with a tarp, although the sky remained clear.

  Mary Lou adjusted the white satin runner that defined the center aisle. Then she walked to the back of the room and stood, arms folded. “Beautiful.”

  “It is.” Keri shifted one bouquet of flowers on the hearth, which was a mass of red, yellow and purple wildflowers. “There. Perfect.”

  “Sarah married Jonathan in this room,” Mary Lou said.

  “She did? Does Pete know that?”

  Mary Lou nodded. “He’s the one who suggested they have the ceremony here. I’ve never met a man who’s less jealous of the guy who preceded him. I never thought Sarah would find someone who could measure up to Jonathan, but Pete...well, he’s just special.”

  “I agree.” Keri walked around the chairs to stand next to Mary Lou. “You know why this looks so wonderful?”

  “The wildflowers,” Mary Lou said.

  “That’s a big part of it, but I think it’s beautiful because it was created with love by Sarah’s daughters-in-law. I watched Dominique, Morgan and Josie work together. Then Tyler showed up to help, and Bianca O’Connelli, and Emily.”

  “Don’t forget Cassidy,” Mary Lou said with a chuckle. “She’s a seventeen-year-old ball of fire. I loved how eager she was to help do whatever we needed. She’d race to get string, vases, duct tape, with her red hair flying.”

  “Yep, she’s a cutie. I think she’s after my job.”

  “She’s young, but she’s a hard worker, and according to her mother she isn’t set on going to college, at least not yet.” Mary Lou glanced over at Keri. “How soon are you planning to leave?”

  Keri decided she could confide in Mary Lou, so she described the job she hoped to create working with Bethany Grace. “And Jack said it’s a great idea, and he’ll put in a good word with Bethany when she gets home. He’s almost positive she doesn’t have anybody hired for that position.”

  “That’s terrific!” Mary Lou’s face lit up. “So you’d be right next door, so to speak.”

  “I would.”

  “Okay, now I don’t feel so sad about you leaving. I think you’ll get that job with Bethany and then you’ll be over at the Triple G, and we’ll see you all the time.”

  Keri’s heart squeezed. She hadn’t realized that she’d be so missed. “Now I’m even more determined to convince Bethany to hire me.”

  “Well, if you need a reference, send her straight to me.”

  Keri smiled. “Thank you. I will.”

  “Now let’s make sure all’s well in the kitchen. We don’t have much time left.”

  Keri followed Mary Lou back to the kitchen and they worked until it was nearly time for the ceremony. After tidying themselves as best they could, they walked back to the living room. Many of the chairs were already filled. They stood to one side and waited until the other guests had been seated before slipping into a spot in the back row, which had been provided for the ranch hands. The boss lady was getting married, and no one could be left out. By a stroke of luck, Michael was also in the back, and he took advantage of the vacant chair to Keri’s right.

  Watkins and
the new hire, Trey Wheeler, played old country favorites as the guests settled themselves. Trey had turned out to be a top-notch horse trainer and a fine musician. Having two guitars instead of one provided a more resonant sound and had been a good decision, in Keri’s estimation. During the ceremony, Tyler would add her talented voice to the guitar music.

  Watkins and Trey made an interesting combination. Watkins was stocky, mustached and middle-aged, while Trey was young, lean, and muscled. Keri noticed with amusement that most of the women in the room watched Trey instead of Watkins, even though Watkins was a better guitar player.

  Pete, who stood by the hearth with his two brothers and the minister, looked as if he’d won the lottery. Any minute Keri expected him to levitate.

  As excitement grew, Watkins and Trey launched into “Here Comes the Bride.” First down the aisle was the tiny flower girl, Morgan’s daughter, Sarah Bianca, or SB for short. She flung rose petals everywhere, even pausing to launch them into the faces of the guests leaning toward her with cameras raised.

  Mary Lou put her mouth next to Keri’s ear. “Did you bring tissues? I’m going to bawl. I just know it.”

  Keri dug in her pocket and came up with one she handed to Mary Lou while keeping a second one for herself. She’d expected to cry. Sure enough, when Sarah appeared, flanked by her three handsome sons, Keri’s tears began to flow. Regal as always, Sarah wore a long, ice-blue dress and carried a bouquet of the orchids Pete had ordered flown in from Hawaii. She was radiant.

  Jack, Nick and Gabe wore ice-blue vests under their Western-style jackets. Sarah linked arms with Nick on one side and Gabe on the other, while Jack walked protectively behind. Each man’s jaw was clenched against the emotion glittering in his eyes. All three had lived through the loss of a father and now manfully celebrated their mother’s happiness in finding someone to love.

  But Keri had come to know the Chance boys, and she didn’t think they were giving Sarah away. They would never do such a thing. It was more of a provisional loan that depended on Pete’s ability to keep her deliriously happy.

  Judging from Pete’s expression when he caught his first glimpse of Sarah, he was more than ready to do that. He looked as if he wanted to rush forward and escort her to the altar himself. But he wisely refrained. Those three broad-shouldered cowboys would have stopped at nothing to keep him from interfering in this special moment with their beloved mother.

 

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