There was a muffled sound on the phone and then giggles from both of his sisters.
"What?"
"You sound like a worried grandma or something. We'll be fine."
Then the giggling stopped. Chase swallowed audibly and said, "Thanks," softly. "For taking care of us."
He knew what Mom was like. Knew how, even when she was clean, she sometimes disappeared into herself for days at a time.
He'd been a grown up before he'd hit thirteen. And his sisters, unfortunately, were having the same experience.
"Claire wants to talk to you."
He shifted his phone to his opposite ear. After her greeting, he asked, "You okay?"
"We're fine. We've got While You Were Sleeping on. And the doors are locked."
He smiled into the phone.
"Umm... Mom called."
Something sharp poked the inside of his belly. "Yeah?"
"She said she's coming home in two weeks."
Two weeks. Two weeks left to take care of his sisters. Two weeks with Melody.
It wasn't enough time. Why had he waited so long to make a move? He should've approached her one of the times he'd seen her in town. If they'd been back in the city, he would've.
He cleared his throat, aware of Melody's gaze, aware that Claire was waiting for him to say something. "I'll call her in the morning, make sure her therapist is okay with the release."
Claire didn't respond. What could he say to comfort her? Did she even need comfort? What did he know about teenage girls?
He glanced at Melody. She was looking out the window again, though he didn't know how much she could see with the lights out. In the reflection, he could see she was frowning.
"Everything's going to be okay," he said into the phone. "Tell Chase."
Claire sniffled . "Be careful." She hung up.
He set the phone on the console, gut churning. What had Claire wanted him to say? That he'd stay in town? The girls knew he'd planned to return to the city. It's where his job was. Where his life was.
He'd made a practice of staying gone from Redbud Trails. Told himself the town had nothing for him, even though his sisters were there. But looking over at Melody, he knew that wasn't entirely true. Not anymore.
* * *
Weston's lighthearted mood had evaporated when they'd walked out of the studio and into the snowstorm.
She'd suggested they wait out the storm in Weatherford, but he'd summarily dismissed that idea.
And now he seemed even more stressed that they were stuck.
Was he regretting the date? Regretting being with her? He'd softened when he'd talked to his sisters, but then just before he'd hung up, one of the girls had said something that caused a muscle in his jaw to jump.
Now he stared at nothing, his gaze pinpointed on the windshield.
And the woman that had twirled around on the dance floor in Weston's arms had the courage to say, "I'm sorry you're stuck out here with me."
She couldn't help but note the lines around his mouth as he turned and ran his hand through his hair again—a nervous habit? "I'm sorry too."
Okay, she'd been hoping for a denial. For him to say it was no big deal and he was happy for the extra time to spend with her. The charming Weston from earlier would have said something like that.
A shiver wracked her that had nothing to do with cold. Had she been mistaken all this time? Did Weston feel sorry for her, because of her scar and her story? Was that why he'd insisted on the date?
"I'll curl up over here, and you'll never know I'm here," she offered. She'd tried to sound nonchalant, but a little bitterness seeped through.
With her long skirt, she couldn't pull her knees up to her chest like the little girl inside her wanted, but she leaned her elbow against the window and propped her cheek on her fist, closing her eyes.
She felt motion on the seat beside her and then a strong grip around her upper arm.
Her eyes flew open, and she struggled as Weston hauled her into the middle seat.
He still held her arm and from up close, there was nowhere to go, nowhere else to look except at him.
"You think I don't want to be here with you?" he almost-growled.
Her eyes were caught in his intense blues, and she murmured, "You don't seem happy about being stuck," before she'd thought better of it.
"Because I don't want people to connect us."
She saw the words form on his lips, heard them, but didn't understand. "Because...being with me will soil your reputation? Isn't that a little Victorian?"
"Because being with me means people will talk about you. Why do you think I picked you up off the alley?"
"I thought you might want some privacy to kiss me hello," she retorted, her ire rising.
He gave her a look like, yeah, that too.
"I don't care if people know we're on a date." Look at that—she didn't even stumble over the word.
"You might care if some of the women start boycotting your store," he said darkly. Her thigh was pressed against his. He was so near, but as he stared out into the blowing snow, he was distant. "Or if folks suddenly snub you in the supermarket."
She placed her hand on his forearm. He'd shed his coat in the warmth of the cab earlier, and now there was only his cotton shirt between her skin and his. There were such shadows in his eyes.
She laid her hand flat against his jaw, then reached up and kissed him. His lips were warm, and the same spark she felt every time they kissed burned...then flared into a soaring firework that curled throughout her.
He pulled away first, and she laid her head on his shoulder.
"I should be able to stay away from you," he mumbled, but his hand closed over hers and rested on both their thighs.
"I'm glad you haven't."
Then, when he was silent, she said, "You're not eighteen anymore."
She felt the tension spiral through him and rushed on, "You're a successful businessman. You've done well for yourself. Made a new life for yourself."
She felt the rasp of his five o'clock shadow against the fine hairs at her temple as he looked down at her, but she focused her eyes their linked hands.
"How do you know?"
"The girls respect you. You being here has been good for them. And I might've Googled you."
She felt the muscles of his cheek move against the top of her head. Smiling? But he didn't speak.
She didn't know if she was even making a dent, but something kept her from stopping now. "They can only keep hurting you if you let them."
He exhaled a harsh breath, and his hand tightened around hers.
But he still said nothing.
* * *
Melody nestled in close, her breaths evening out, though he didn't think she was sleeping.
Holding her close was a comfort, one he probably didn't deserve.
Weston appreciated what Melody was trying to do. For his part, he'd let go of the past as best he could.
He'd loved Eve.
He'd been blindsided when she'd told him she was pregnant—because they'd planned to wait until marriage to sleep together. He'd gone through stages of betrayal and grief. And still planned to marry her. It was the right thing to do.
And because he'd still loved her.
They hadn't told anyone the baby wasn't his. He'd never asked whose it was.
Her family had hated him even as they'd planned a small church wedding for the weekend after graduation. The day of the wedding had come, and Eve had been a no show.
She'd left no note. No phone call. Nothing.
Just left him.
He'd only been in town for two days after that, but the whispers that had followed him around—and that on the heels of what everyone had said about him for weeks—had cut. Every single one.
It was like everyone had forgotten about the first seventeen years of his life. Sure, he'd never been the perfect A student or football hero. He'd made his share of trouble, but he hadn't been the pariah that people had come to b
elieve he was those final weeks of his senior year.
He couldn't get away from town fast enough.
And now his mom was getting out of rehab. He should be racing away from here, away from folks like Ezra, who still had it out for him.
But instead, he looked at Melody's head where she pillowed her cheek against his shoulder, and wished.
9
"It's still not right!"
Claire's wailed words—on top of all the drama of the past two days—caused a throbbing pain behind Weston's right eye.
He needed an ibuprofen. Or to escape this madhouse.
With two weeks until Valentine's Day, why had he let the three women talk him into this?
Melody touched his calf—about the only part she could reach from where he stood on a six-foot ladder—and the pain almost went away. Almost
"A little to the left, and we'll call it good, right girls? You still have to get dressed, too."
Arms aching, he tied off the heart-shaped paper lantern and got the heck off the ladder before Claire changed her mind again.
Claire and Chase rushed out of the barn, their low tones muttering something about makeup, leaving him to put away the ladder.
When he emerged from the storage room at the back of the barn, he stood for a moment and watched Melody—whose hair color was now auburn—plug in the white twinkle lights they'd strung in a criss-crossed pattern beneath the high barn ceiling. They all lit up, thank God, and didn't blow the fuse.
That might change when Chase plugged in the stereo for whatever dance music—or what passed for it—they'd start in about an hour when the guests arrived.
He'd been skeptical when Melody suggested they host a party for the freshman class a week before the official school Valentine's Day. A dozen fourteen- and fifteen-year-old teens on his property?
But Melody had insisted the two of them could chaperone, and Claire and Chase would still get to have the dance they'd been denied, thanks to Ezra Warren.
He was in love with this creative, beautiful woman.
And he was still leaving.
He rested his hand on the empty stall where one of Ben's two rescued mares had stayed until the day before, when Ben had come out to relocate them. They'd been a lot of work, but Weston had seen improvement in their temperaments and their trust in humans in the short weeks he'd cared for them. The girls had been smitten with them.
He kind missed how they snuffled his jacket for treats.
He was going to miss a lot of things from Redbud Trails. Melody. The girls.
His mom's therapist seemed to think she was in a good place for her release. She was expected sometime next week.
And then he'd have no reason not to get back to his life, back to his job in Oklahoma City.
He and Melody had tiptoed around the issue of his leaving since they'd made it back from Weatherford. The storm had cleared out after several hours. Melody had fallen asleep on his chest, and he'd been loathe to wake her up, but he also didn't want her neighbors worrying—and gossiping—if she were out all night.
He'd driven about ten miles an hour, and the trip back to Redbud Trails had taken five times what it normally would have, but he'd delivered Melody home before daybreak.
He hadn't been able to stay away from her in the two weeks since.
She'd surprised him with an indoor picnic supper one night—which the girls had crashed, but that was okay.
He'd gone to her house after the store closed a couple of nights to watch movies and eat a late supper.
He hadn't been hiding the fact that they were sort of dating—mostly due to Melody's insistence—but he also hadn't been broadcasting it around down.
He didn't want anyone making trouble for Melody, especially since he was leaving.
"You're looking awfully serious, cowboy." Melody strode close, looking adorable as usual in her denim skirt and a tall pair of pink cowgirl boots.
He didn't want to talk about leaving, not when this might be one of the last times he had her alone.
"You said you never went to a school dance?" he asked instead, reaching for her and letting his hands settle at her waist.
"Nope." She followed his lead as he mostly swayed in the silence.
"This is a little different from the box step we learned," she said.
His chin brushed her temple; he could hear the smile in her voice.
"This was my repertoire in high school." He nuzzled his nose into her hair. "In fact, don't be surprised if we turn on the music and the boys huddle on one side of the barn and the girls stick to the opposite. I don't think I asked a girl to dance until..."
He shook his head. What was he thinking, bringing up Eve?
The shock of pain that normally accompanied thoughts of his high school girlfriend was noticeably absent. He could thank Melody for that.
She'd been a huge help as he'd dealt with the girls. And he knew she'd stay in their lives after he left, now that they both worked part-time in her shop.
The sound of a horn honking had him releasing Melody and moving out of the barn's double doors so he could see the drive.
"Don't tell me someone's an hour early," Melody was saying from behind him, but his hearing had gone to a high-pitched hum.
"It's my mom."
* * *
Melody accompanied Weston into the house—he'd clutched her hand and hadn't let go, so she'd really had no choice but to follow him in. Not that she would have been anywhere else.
They made it to the kitchen just as the front door opened and a woman with gray hair and features that identified her as Weston and the girls' mother pushed through the front door. She carried a large duffel that she set just inside the door.
"Weston."
"Mom."
The older woman's eyes tracked along Weston's arm to where their hands were clasped. Melody stepped forward. "Hello. I'm Melody."
"I recognize you."
Weston squeezed her hand gently. "This is my mother. Karly Moore."
"Melody, is that you? We need advice on our eye shadow..." Claire's exuberant voice faded as she walked from the hall and right into the middle of the tension-filled family living area.
"What—?" Chase bumped into Claire's back, then went silent too.
"What are you wearing?" Karly asked. No hello to the girls.
Claire had the audacity to prop a hand on her hip, showing off the designer dress she'd earned through working at the store. Beside her, Chase moved slightly into the living room so that her skinny jeans and a rainbow-hued long sleeved T-shirt were visible, along with the trendy short boots Melody had let her borrow from her own closet.
"We're having an early Valentine's Day party," Claire said, her chin raised in what was almost a dare.
Karly slid a glance to Weston. "I guess your brother's paying for your new clothes and a party? Don't get used to it."
"Mom," Weston started.
"Actually, we bought the clothes," Chase piped in. "We both got jobs."
Karly's eyes narrowed, and she threw an accusing glance at Weston. "Your brother let you get jobs?"
"Maybe we can talk about it after you get settled in," Weston suggested.
Claire threw a pleading glance at Melody.
"Eye shadow. Right." Melody let go of Weston's hand, instantly missing the contact, and started to follow the girls to their room.
"Let me get that for you, Mom," Weston said.
She glanced over her shoulder to see Weston grabbing his mom's duffel bag. "My stuff's in your room, but it won't take me long to pack up."
Melody's stomach dipped to her toes, her heart catching up with her head on what exactly it meant that Karly had returned.
Weston would be leaving. Soon.
"She wasn't supposed to be home until Tuesday," Chase murmured when Melody followed the girls into their room.
They both sat on their beds, and the emotional look they shared said everything. They weren't thrilled to have their mom home. Weston and the girls
had settled into a comfortable rhythm, and now, everything would change.
It made Melody a little sick to her stomach, knowing the girls must be wondering when or if Karly would go off the deep end again.
"Things are different now," Melody said. The space between the twin beds was close enough that she could reach out and touch both twins' shoulders. "You'll still see me three afternoons and week and more during the summer." And she made a silent vow that if she saw any signs that Karly was self-medicating, she'd contact Weston.
"Maybe," Chase said darkly. Melody could only hope that Karly would let the girls keep their jobs. It might ease some of the money troubles and allow them to gain some independence. And they thrived in the work.
"And Weston is only a phone call away," Melody added.
"Yeah." Claire's agreement was half-hearted, and she stared down at her fingers, which were twisting a loose thread on her bedspread.
Melody squeezed their shoulders lightly. "It'll be okay."
Claire slid a sideways look at Melody. "We thought Weston might want to stay. In Redbud Trails."
"He likes you," Chase added. "A lot."
She liked him a lot too. Thinking about him leaving opened a gaping hole inside her.
"Would you...ask him to stay?"
She bit her lip and shook her head slightly. She'd stayed up nights thinking about what things could be like if Weston chose to stay in town. But she also knew how hard it was for him to be here.
She could never ask him to stay, knowing that his past caused him pain, and that some folks wouldn't let him forget it.
Even if her heart was breaking.
"Let's get your eye shadow right," she said, injecting a positive tone into her voice. "Your friends will be here before you know it."
The girls looked at each other, pink showing in their cheeks before their eyes started dancing once again.
Crisis averted, at least until after the party.
* * *
Weston stood with his arms crossed in the shadows at the back of the barn. Brooding maybe, but he couldn't help it.
His mom was home early. And her return had already caused tension with the twins.
Heart of a Cowgirl Page 6
