by Jennie Adams
Tyson’s jaw sported a faint shadow of stubble and the suit coat hung awkwardly on his rangy frame. But the style worked for him and his dark eyes held a gleam of approval as he looked down at her. His appraising gaze made something curl inside her uncomfortably. What she wouldn’t give for a pair of comfy jeans and a baggy sweater right about now. The sage-green bridesmaid’s dress was far too fitted to her figure and made her feel conspicuous. Compliments were well and good, but she was far more confident when she was in her comfort zone.
“Mr. Diamond,” she said, setting her jaw defiantly as she held out her hand. She could set the tone between them right here and now. Businesslike—exactly the way it should be between her and Virgil’s adopted son.
But it was an utter flop of an attempt. His warm fingers enveloped hers in a strong, lingering grip. A hint of a smile flirted with the corners of his mouth. “It’s just Ty,” he replied, with a voice as smooth and chocolaty as the dark depths of his eyes. “Or Tyson if I’m on your bad side.”
Bad side? Right now she felt as though she might swallow her tongue as she looked into his face. She liked the feel of her hand in his. Where was the old reliable revulsion she’d become accustomed to? The instinctive need to pull away and keep her distance? She knew how to deal with that. This was all new territory, and she was momentarily at a loss for words.
His smile widened and she pulled her hand away, hiding her fingers within the clasp of her left hand. “Right,” she said, her voice shaking. “Well, I’d better get your dad inside. Good night, everyone.”
She couldn’t meet his gaze as she scuttled away, but she heard Sam’s voice and it made her burn with humiliation.
“Go easy,” Sam warned Ty.
“Did I do anything?” There was a hint of defensiveness in Ty’s voice that fit with what she’d heard through the grapevine. That things weren’t as smooth sailing between the brothers as they seemed.
She quickened her steps so she wouldn’t hear Sam’s answer. Everything she’d heard around town was right, then. She hadn’t been able to tune out the snatches of conversation that had reached her ears today. The return of the prodigal Tyson was a hot topic. Unfortunately so was his track record with the ladies.
Tyson Diamond was gorgeous and he knew it. He was also a wild card and Sam’s illegitimate cousin who’d been adopted by Virgil and Molly as a baby. Trouble. He was the last person who should make Clara blush and stammer. She was smarter than that, wasn’t she?
Now he’d hung up his rodeo spurs and was coming home to run the ranch with Sam. With Virgil still recovering and needing regular care, they were going to see each other all the time.
Great. Just wonderful.
Clara helped Virgil get settled, but once she was alone in the quiet house her unease came back with a vengeance, sending tingles shooting up the backs of her legs and making an all-too-familiar weight settle in her chest. It had been a long, tiring day and her defenses were down. That had to be the reason why Ty’s simple handshake had made her react in such an uncharacteristic way. Or maybe it was just weddings. Weddings did tend to make people sentimental and romantic, right? She twisted her fingers. Or stupid.
Either way, it was one day. It didn’t matter a bit if she found Tyson attractive. She had no interest in romance. Not after all that had been taken away from her in the name of “love.” She had her eye set on her goal and nothing was going to divert her from it.
She escaped into the first-floor powder room, sat down on the closed toilet and focused on breathing deeply for a few minutes. Once she’d regrouped she got up, ran some cold water over her hands and carefully touched them to her cheeks, soothing the heat there without marring her makeup. She could do this. She’d come too far to go back to hiding away at the first whiff of discomfort. Goodness, a year ago she would never have made it through a day like today. She shouldn’t let something like this rattle her.
She stared into the mirror. “Living in fear is not living. I will not live in fear.”
The words soothed, both from sentiment and habit. She let out a breath and straightened her shoulders. She opened the door and nearly ran straight into Tyson’s chest.
His hands gripped her arms, steadying her from toppling over in the heels she wasn’t used to wearing.
“Whoa,” he said, his low voice rippling over her nerve endings.
Her faced flamed anew, his word choice making her feel decidedly klutzy and horsy. And he was touching her again. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t know anyone was waiting for the bathroom.”
“I was waiting for you,” he replied easily. He squatted down slightly so that he was closer to her height and peered into her face. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. As though he was trying to figure her out. The less he knew about her the better. And she planned to keep it that way, no matter how often their paths crossed in the coming weeks.
“Waiting for me?”
“You ran off quite a while ago. I wanted to be sure you’re all right.”
“Of course I am.” His hands seemed to burn through the soft fabric of her dress to the skin beneath. She conjured up the polite smile she’d practiced all week in the mirror. “It took me a while to get your dad settled, that’s all.”
Liar, her brain protested, but she ignored it. A warmth ran through her at his concern. Usually she managed to fly under the radar, blending into her surroundings like a chameleon. People usually didn’t notice if she came or went. But Ty had.
Despite her assurances, Tyson didn’t budge from blocking the hallway. His lips curled up in the most alluring manner. Lordy, with a smile like that she bet he didn’t even have to try with the ladies. They’d all fall in his lap, wouldn’t they?
She stepped around him and he dropped his fingers from her arms. She breathed a little easier once he wasn’t touching her anymore. “If you’ll excuse me…”
“What’s your hurry?” he asked, his soft voice humming over her already raw nerves, making her pause, making her realize once more that they were very alone here in the house while the party went on outside.
“I should get back to Angela, make sure…”
“Angela and Sam have gone. You missed the throwing of the bouquet.”
Clara’s heart sank. Had she truly been gone so very long? Not that she’d wanted to catch the bouquet by any means, but she’d disappeared into a corner exactly the way she’d promised herself she wouldn’t. Once again she’d missed out on good things because she was too busy hiding herself away from something awkward or uncomfortable.
“I thought all the single women fought over catching it.” He raised his eyebrows. “You are single, aren’t you?”
The question was so ludicrous that Clara almost laughed. Single? Absolutely. For now and forever.
“I’m not interested in catching any bouquets,” she remarked, finally looking up in his eyes. They were good eyes, she had to admit. They were dark brown but she noticed now that they had little golden flecks around the pupils and crinkles in the corners. His lips were finely shaped, full where they needed to be full and just now curved in what she was realizing was his trademark smile—tilted to one side as if he was sharing a joke. All in all it was a bit lethal, and he was just the sort of man she might have been interested in before.
Before. She looked away from Ty’s handsome face and focused on the closet door behind his shoulder. It seemed her life was split into two distinct parts. Before Jackson and after Jackson. The carefree Clara she had been before no longer existed. Jackson had destroyed her.
For well over a year she’d been rebuilding herself from square one. The new Clara stood here now, in a new life and with a new job. She had to remember that. She had accomplished so much. She was a lot more careful now. A lot more cautious. A lot smarter.
“That’s a shame,” Ty responded, and she heard a laugh in his voice. “Because I caught this.”
She caught a glimpse of a blue-and-white lace garter as he stretched it out over
a finger. Was he flirting with her? It seemed preposterous. She was plain as ditch water, and to a man like Ty, probably twice as dull. For heaven’s sake, she lived in a women’s shelter and spent her days as a private nurse. She was distinctly unworldly and unexciting. And Ty was a rodeo star and drifter. They had absolutely nothing in common.
She was therefore surprised to find that she didn’t feel particularly threatened by his presence. Ty Diamond was dangerous, all right. A real bad boy from all accounts. Yet somehow she felt…safe.
“Lucky you,” she replied dryly, proud that she’d managed to keep her tongue from tying in knots and trying to summon what used to be, in the before Jackson days, a ready sense of humor. “Do you have a girl in mind? Tradition says you’ll be the next bachelor to be married.” She smiled, but it felt forced, like she was baring her teeth. “Who caught the bouquet? A likely candidate for the next Mrs. Diamond, perhaps?”
“Amy Wilson, and I hardly think so.”
His displeasure was so obvious Clara let out a half laugh, half gasp. She was familiar with Amy’s vivacious and gossipy ways. Amy had had plenty to say about Tyson today and little of it good. It had sounded a bit like sour grapes. “That’s not very nice.”
He shrugged. “Amy and I have never seen eye to eye. She wanted Sam, you know. And when she saw me catch the garter she hightailed it to the other side of the garden, well out of my reach.”
“Why?” She looked up and saw he was still smiling that sexy half smile and she bit down on her lip. “I mean, why doesn’t Amy like you?” She couldn’t imagine being repulsed by Ty. He might look slightly out of place in formal wear, but it didn’t disguise the fact that he was a stunning display of masculinity. Gorgeous enough even to fluster her—someone who’d been immune to any sort of charms for some time now. The new Clara was far too practical to be distracted.
He stepped back. “Easy. The adopted bastard doesn’t have the same shine as the heir apparent.”
Clara turned away and began walking back to the kitchen so they would be out of the close confines of the hall. The words had been said flippantly, but he hadn’t quite been able to disguise the bitterness behind them.
“Did you say that just to shock me?”
In the kitchen, Ty went to the fridge and took out a beer, popping the top as he leaned his hips against the counter. “If I said no, would you believe me?” He took a drink.
She watched him for a few seconds. He wanted her to think he’d been joking but she saw something behind his eyes. Hurt. She was more sensitive to that sort of thing after what she’d been through. All she knew about Ty was that he was really Sam’s cousin, and Virgil and Molly had adopted him. What had it been like, growing up at Diamondback, in Sam’s shadow? Being a Diamond but still knowing that he didn’t quite belong? She found the Diamond house with all its expensive trappings a bit intimidating. Had Ty? Was that why he’d left?
“I don’t think I would believe you,” she said. “I think you might just enjoy shocking people.”
His eyebrow came up and his grin flashed. “You could be right, Clara.”
There was something intimate about the way he said her name. Her pulse began to hammer again. How did he do that?
He gestured with his bottle, a careless flick of the wrist. “So, what would it take to shock you?”
She swallowed. She might be practical but she understood a come-on when she heard it. Ty hadn’t moved an inch but he suddenly seemed much closer. She replayed the conversation she’d heard today to center her thoughts. Ty Diamond is a flirt and a player, the woman had said. It’s as natural to him as breathing.
Clara knew she was nothing special. And if this was Tyson’s way of making this a game, she wasn’t playing. She met his gaze and raised a single eyebrow. “That won’t work with me.”
He laughed. “You’re tougher than you look. Well, here we are anyway, both avoiding all the wedding hoopla. Get you something to drink?”
She shook her head, a bit surprised he seemed to brush off her comment like it was nothing. And he’d called her tough. He probably had no idea how much of a compliment that was. “If Sam and Angela have gone, I should probably be getting home.”
Ty leaned a hip against the counter. “To Butterfly House, right?”
She nodded. It was no secret where she lived, but she didn’t quite like Ty knowing, for some reason. His dark eyes assessed her a little too closely until she felt like a bug under a microscope. She momentarily wondered if Angela had sent Tyson in on purpose to make sure she wasn’t alone. While she appreciated the sentiment, lately she’d found herself chafing against the constant analysis of her every move and thought. Sometimes she just wanted to get on with her life rather than dissect it to pieces.
“Whatever you’re thinking, just ask, Tyson. Don’t try to guess. And don’t stare at me. It makes me uncomfortable.” She was learning to stand up for herself, to set her own boundaries, but even so a quiver of anxiety always followed such a demonstration of self-assurance. It was hard to get past the “don’t rock the boat” mentality.
“I didn’t mean to stare.” His gaze softened. “Angela told me you are a…is client the right word?”
“It works.” Her heart started drumming all over again, and not in the glorious anticipatory way it had before. He was going to ask. People always got curious when they found out she lived at the shelter, like they were somehow entitled to her story and the sordid details. “Is that why you followed me inside? To get the details?”
He put the beer bottle down on the countertop. He’d undone his tie and the black silk hanging against the brilliant white of his shirt made him seem approachable. Touchable. Not for her, though. He probably had a string of buckle bunnies clear down to Texas. A man like Tyson Diamond would eat her alive and spit out the bones before moving on to the next conquest.
She felt a tiny stab in her heart, remembering how she’d fallen for Jackson only to discover the true man underneath after it was too late. Too late for so many things. Her throat tightened as she grieved for all that she’d lost. Jackson had been handsome and charming, too. In the beginning.
Angela had talked to her about not judging every man by the abuser’s yardstick, and in her head Clara knew she was right. Her heart was still a little too bruised, though, to trust her judgment completely. She was perfectly happy going along the way she was. It would be even better when she was completely independent. She couldn’t wait to be one hundred percent in charge of her own life.
“You looked panicked out there. I know the feeling, and I wanted to make sure you were okay, that’s all.”
He wasn’t asking about her past. And he was telling the truth. His words were utterly sincere.
“You don’t strike me as the panic type,” she responded, getting a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water.
“I’m okay—in my element,” he responded smoothly. “Garden weddings? Not so much my element. Neither is this monkey suit.”
“I imagine you are more of a jeans and boots kind of guy.”
“Definitely,” he answered. “Anyway, back to my original question. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Of course I am,” she replied.
“Okay,” he said, sticking his hands in his trouser pockets, making his suit jacket flare away from his hips in a most attractive way. Clara swallowed. She remembered not two months ago, asking Angela about Sam as he chopped wood in the back yard at Butterfly House. She had told Angela there was a big difference between appreciating the package and taking the leap into something more. She’d looked at Sam through the window that day and found him handsome. But Ty…Ty resembled Sam but with an added something she couldn’t put her finger on. For the first time since crawling away from Jackson, battered and bruised, she was definitely appreciating the package, all wrapped up in a suit and patent shoes.
Her tongue snuck out to wet her lips and she saw Ty’s gaze follow the movement. All the air seemed to go out of the room.
She fought to be rational. Other than his hands briefly on her arms as she came barreling out of the bathroom, he hadn’t touched her or made any sort of suggestion that he was interested.
Except…
Except for the dark gleam in his eyes as he stared at her lips. There was just this thing hovering around them. It had been a long time since she’d felt it, but it was like riding a bike. Once you experienced it once, it came back to you in a flash—whether you wanted it to or not. Now she found herself staring at his lips and wondering what it would be like to be kissed.
Reality hit like a splash of cold water. “I really should go,” she said, taking a step backwards. Her voice sounded higher than normal and she swallowed. “Your mother will be expecting me here on time tomorrow. Weddings are all well and good, but real life has a tendency to intrude, and your dad has physio in the morning. It was nice meeting you, Ty.”
“You’re not going to stay for a dance or two?”
“God, no.”
The answer came so quickly and with such force that she didn’t have time to think about not saying it. There was acknowledging the presence of some sort of…chemistry, she supposed was a good word for it. But dancing—touching—in front of people? She swallowed. Her progress hadn’t quite extended that far. She’d even said no to Sam—who she trusted more than she’d trusted any man since leaving her ex—when he asked for a dance. He’d been perfectly understanding, but she’d stood by the sidelines watching everyone else dance, feeling silly. Like a coward.
Ty’s gaze darkened until it was almost black, and she felt his cool withdrawal. Leaving the half-full bottle, he headed towards the deck doors, stopping for just a moment beside her. She could feel the heat from his body and the crisp scent of whatever aftershave he wore surrounded her in a cloud of masculinity. “Miss Ferguson.” He nodded, then continued on his way. The click of the French door let her know that he was gone in a swell of country music that was immediately muted; she couldn’t bear to turn around and watch him stride away.
She hadn’t meant it how it sounded. She’d only been thinking of the idea of being held close in a man’s arms. The very prospect was laughable. Dancing was so intimate. The one thing she still hadn’t managed to shake in all the therapy sessions and the time that had passed was her aversion to having her personal space invaded. She hadn’t been held by a man since walking away. It triggered too many memories of how Jackson had held her and told her he loved her, only to turn around and use those same loving hands to…
