by Judy Duarte
I’m tempted to disown her—or whatever it is siblings do when they don’t want to be related anymore. But I’m not quite ready to do that. At least, not yet.
So here’s my question, Dear Debbie: How do I talk her out of marrying a guy she’s only known for three months? That’s not enough time for her to find out if he’s going to turn out to be a mean drunk like our father was. I’m only trying to protect her, but Connie doesn’t see it that way. How do I convince her she’s wrong?
Brokenhearted Sister
An answer came to Lainie right away, so she cranked up her laptop and got to work. The words flowed easily, and her advice was heartfelt and sound.
Apparently, she’d learned a lot from talking to Sully in the past, from listening to the way he reasoned things out.
For the first time, she’d responded to the writer as Elena Montoya, sharing things she’d never told anyone. She knew a thing or two about being hurt, about having people betray her. And, sadly, about betraying people herself, even if it had been completely unintentional.
But it felt good be authentic. To give advice from her heart. She just wished she’d been authentic with Drew, too.
Or course, it was too late for that. And maybe that was just as well. It was one thing sharing her heart and soul to a stranger and under the guise of Dear Debbie, and it was another to reopen old wounds and lay herself open and vulnerable to a man who’d broken her heart.
After shutting down her laptop, she walked over to the bedroom window and peered out into the night. She didn’t expect to see Drew’s cabin in the dark, but with the inside lights blazing, she spotted it right away.
Was he still awake? Was he working on the blog?
Or was he, like Lainie, mulling over what they might have had and lost?
Chapter Eleven
It was nearing midnight, but Drew wasn’t ready for bed or even close to falling asleep. Just a couple of hours ago, he’d called Kara and told her to think about the baby. He’d reminded her that her tiny son needed a peaceful environment in which he could grow, and that’s all it had taken to convince her to calm her down.
On the other hand, Drew was still wound up tighter than a guitar string ready to snap. He couldn’t get over the revelation that Lainie had been Craig’s lover.
Now, as he paced the floor of the small cabin like a caged mountain lion, he wished he could relax. He probably ought to use his time wisely by working on his blog, but the only thing he could focus on was Lainie.
Who was the woman who’d nearly stolen his heart? Angel or vixen?
He wished he knew. His gut told him she wasn’t the type to intentionally date a married man. He’d always been a good judge of character. Shouldn’t he trust his instinct when it came to Lainie?
Then again, she had a deceptive side, a major flaw he’d failed to see. Even Sully had pointed it out.
I guess everyone has a weakness, the old man had said.
It seems that one of her girlfriends or someone she knows has a problem, usually due to their own making. Then he’d added, Lainie really needs to choose some new friends. Some of them don’t have the sense the Good Lord gave a goose.
Drew hadn’t met any of her friends, and after what Sully had told him about them, he hadn’t wanted to.
Still, if she had some loser friends, was that a bad sign? Or was it the result of having a naive and loving heart?
She was good with the old cowboys—and with kids like Andre. Didn’t that prove she was kind and thoughtful? But then again, was that just an act?
There’d been other incidents and comments made that might’ve offered him a clue. Like the day she’d touched his forearm and dazzled him with a pretty smile. You’ll help me, won’t you? You said you’d do anything that needed to be done. She’d practically batted her eyelashes, working her wiles on him.
He’d failed to pick up on the possibility that she might’ve been playing him. Instead, when she’d zapped his nerve endings with her touch and gazed at him sweetly, he’d been captivated and completely swayed.
Sure, helping her plan a Christmas party for the children wasn’t a bad thing. But that wasn’t the point. Hadn’t she just blurted out the idea, committing him to help before asking him first?
Then there was that sexually charged embrace near the barn earlier today. She’d been kissing him back like there was no tomorrow, when all of a sudden she’d torn her mouth from his and pushed him away as if he’d been a real horn dog. Yet just a heartbeat before, she’d made it pretty clear that she wouldn’t mind if he’d taken her right there, in the soft grass and under cover of an old buckboard.
I didn’t mean to overreact, she’d said. Or to be a tease.
He’d accepted her response at face value, but now he couldn’t help wondering if she’d known exactly what she’d been doing.
Had she played on Craig’s attraction to her in that same way?
Drew didn’t want to believe so, but he supposed it was possible. Hadn’t Lainie taken to wearing makeup recently? Was that an attempt to draw Drew deeper under her spell?
There lay the crux of his problem. He couldn’t figure her out.
Even if she was as goodhearted as he’d once thought she was and Craig had duped her, like he had so many other people, Drew would still have to give her up for good. How could he date her knowing how his sister felt about her? Besides, no matter what the circumstances had been, she’d also slept with Craig.
Wasn’t it easier—and safer—to believe the worst?
Drew blew out a ragged breath. More than two hours had passed since their online showdown, and he still wasn’t anywhere near a decision or a judgment. He stopped pacing and glanced at the bed. He really ought to turn in for the night, but his thoughts kept tumbling and rumbling through his brain, making it impossible to rest.
Damn. He’d probably be up until dawn, stewing about Elena.
And ruing the fact that he’d never kiss “Lainie” again.
* * *
Much to Lainie’s surprise, Drew hadn’t avoided her. He showed up in the kitchen for breakfast the next day. But then again, he had to be hungry, and there weren’t many other mealtime options in this neck of the woods.
She couldn’t help noticing that he didn’t look nearly as handsome as he had before. His hair was mussed as if he’d raked his hand through it a hundred times, and dark circles under his eyes suggested he hadn’t slept a wink.
Was he worried about his sister? Had she gone into premature labor?
Lainie certainly hoped not. She didn’t want Kara to lose her baby or to suffer any more than she already had.
Still, Drew looked worn. Tired. Uneasy.
She’d like to think his haggard appearance had to do with guilt for being so mean to her last night, but his tight-lipped scowl told another story. Clearly, he hadn’t softened toward her at all.
Only yesterday, he’d smiled as she bustled about, checking on the older men in the dining room, as well as the young hands who ate in the kitchen. He’d seemed to take pleasure in her movements. But today, as she served the men, replenishing their cups with fresh coffee and putting warm biscuits, butter and honey on the table, he didn’t seem to notice her at all.
No, things had clearly changed between them—and permanently, it seemed. His frosty silence was pretty convincing.
As she continued to work, she did her best to ignore both him and his grumpy expression. But it wasn’t easy.
She’d considered looking for a replacement to cover for her until Joy returned from her honeymoon and took over the kitchen duties. But Lainie couldn’t leave before the party. The invitation had already gone out to Kidville, and there was no way she’d do anything to disappoint Andre or the other children. So she was determined to soldier on and see it through, at least until Christmas.
“These buttermilk biscuits sure are good, ma’am,” Brad said.
Lainie thanked him. “Would you like another? I have more warming in the oven.”
“No, ma’am. I’ve already had three and filled my belly to the brim. If I don’t quit now, I won’t be able to move, let alone work.”
As the men began to push away from the table, she placed her hand on Drew’s shoulder to stop him. “Can we talk a minute?”
His corded muscle tensed, and his eyes narrowed, creasing his brow. In some ways, his suspicion and distrust hurt her more than if he’d said, “There’s nothing to talk about,” and stomped off with the others.
“It won’t take but a minute,” she said.
He neither agreed nor objected, but he remained in his seat while the ranch hands filed out of the kitchen, into the mudroom and then out the door.
Once they were alone, she pulled out the chair next to him and asked, “How’s your sister?”
Apparently he hadn’t seen that question coming because the furrow in his brow deepened. “She’s all right, I guess. It didn’t help her to flip out after seeing you with me in the cabin.”
Ouch. Yet in spite of the painful barb, she wasn’t going to cower or apologize for something that had been all Craig’s fault and none of her own doing.
“I’m glad to hear she’s okay,” she said.
His only response was a slight nod.
“I meant what I told you last night. I had no idea Craig was married. If I had, I would’ve run for the hills. Granted, I should have done a background check of some kind, an internet search of his name, but I didn’t. It won’t happen again, though. I’ll be more careful and skeptical from now on. And just for the record, I regret not checking up on you, too. I really should have, but I guess there’s no need to anymore.”
His eye twitched, but he didn’t comment. If she were one to resort to violence, she might have shaken him until his teeth rattled. Instead, she pushed away from the table, standing tall, head high, her tears in check. “Someday, you’re going to want someone’s understanding and forgiveness, and I hope you get it.”
“Maybe I won’t deserve it.”
She took a deep breath, wondering why she was wasting her time on him. Misplaced hope and a romantic delusion, she supposed, but her feelings and disappointment weren’t the only things to consider. She had the Hoffmans and the children to think about.
“Do you still plan to support Kidville?” she asked.
“I told you I would.”
“Yes, but I thought you might have changed your mind during the night. Of course, it’s clear you haven’t changed your opinion about me.”
When he didn’t respond, not even with a telltale blink of the eye, she bit down on her bottom lip, struggling with what to say next. They obviously didn’t have a romantic future together, but they still had to cross paths.
“I realize there isn’t a snow cone’s chance in hell of us becoming friends,” she said, opting not to use the word couple.
“And just so you know, I didn’t ask you to stick around after breakfast so I could convince you otherwise. But we have a party to get through. Can we strike some kind of a cordial truce until I leave the ranch?”
“Sure, we can do that.”
She let out the breath she’d been holding, relieved that they might be able to put things behind them. Yet, for some reason, it was important for him to know that she had a loving heart and good intentions.
“I’m going to adopt Andre and his brothers,” she said. “Or if that doesn’t come together for some reason, I’m going to take them in as foster children.”
His response was sharp and immediate. “Are you kidding? How are you going to do that? You can barely support yourself and don’t have a home. Why would you subject kids to an uncertain life?”
Lainie wasn’t sure what hurt worse—his sharp tone or his lack of compassion. She never should have shared her innermost hope with a man who clearly didn’t trust her or care about her feelings.
Sure, Drew had a point. She couldn’t very well bring three young children into her life until she found a full-time job and a bigger place to live than a studio apartment. But she wasn’t going to be bullied, hurt or taken advantage of any longer, especially by the likes of Craig or Drew.
Instead of fingering her scar and retreating, as she’d been prone to do in the past, she rose up to him and lifted her finger, jabbing his chest. “You’re a self-centered jerk. You might not think so, but you’re not any better than Craig Baxter. First you hurt my feelings, then you insult me.”
As Drew gaped at her, his surly expression morphed into one of surprise.
“Cat got your tongue?” she asked, her own ire rising at a deafening speed.
“There’s really not much to say.”
“You’re right.”
She’d never wanted to clobber anyone so badly in her life, other than her drunken father. But he’d died in a barroom brawl when she and Rickie were seven, so she hadn’t had to rise to the occasion. Besides, she’d never resort to violence, even if Drew made it oh so tempting.
“To make it easier for both of us,” she said, “I’m going to try and find a temporary cook to cover for me until Joy returns. Either way, I’ll stay out of your way until after the party. Then, by hook or crook, I’m going to create a home for Andre and his brothers. And you mark my words, I’ll pull that off, or I’ll die trying.”
Then she turned on her heel and marched off, her head held high, but her heart and soul aching.
* * *
Drew stood alone in the kitchen, stunned by Lainie’s anger and spunk.
Okay, so maybe he’d been an ass and deserved a good tongue-lashing after his gut reaction to her announcement that she intended to adopt not one, but three kids.
Her family plan was probably heartfelt, but so was Drew’s response. He hadn’t meant to come across so harsh, but she wasn’t the only one thinking about the kids.
To this day he remembered going to bed hungry as an adolescent, his belly empty and growling. After his mom got sick and could no longer work, money was tight and food was scarce, especially at the end of the month when her disability check ran out. So Drew often took less than his share at mealtimes to make sure his mother was able to keep up her strength and his sister had enough to eat.
Andre and his siblings might be separated, but at least they had warm beds and full stomachs at night.
Lainie couldn’t blame him for connecting the dots to her living situation. She’d made it clear that she needed to find another job and another place to live. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize she lacked the resources to provide for herself, let alone a family. What had she been thinking?
He supposed she’d been thinking with her heart. And that being the case, he had to admit that he and Kara might be wrong about her. Needless to say, he’d have to apologize to her, but he had some things to sort through before he chased after her.
The old-style ranch telephone, which hung on the kitchen wall, rang a couple of times. The nurses had their own phone back in the office, so it wasn’t a call for them. Still, Drew doubted it was for him and waited for the answering machine to kick on.
When it did, a man’s voice filled the room. “Lainie! It’s Stan Carlton at The Brighton Valley Gazette. I’ve got good news, girl. I love that story proposal and want you to get started on it right away. And what’s more, the Dear Debbie readership has grown impressively since you took it over. You’re doing a great job. I can’t wait to hear what the readers have to say when your next column comes out on Friday. Give me a call back at your convenience and we can talk about a r
aise in pay.”
What the hell? Just about the time he thought he’d have to apologize for being a jerk, he hears this?
Lainie had lied to him. She’d told him that she hoped to land a job with The Gazette, but she already had one.
To top it off, she’d proposed an article, and it had been accepted. Did she have something underhanded in the works? Something that might exploit the old cowboys on the Rocking Chair Ranch or the children living at Kidville?
Dammit. Rather than offering up an apology, he was going to confront her with her lie.
* * *
Lainie tossed her freshly washed bedsheets into the dryer, albeit with a little more force than necessary. There was no point in taking out her anger, frustration and pain on the damp cotton percale, but it did help her work off some steam.
“There you are,” Drew said from the doorway, his voice terse and not the least bit remorseful.
She glanced over her shoulder. “What do you want? Did you have more cruel barbs to sling at me, more false accusations to make?”
He leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb and crossed his arms. “Just one. You lied to me.”
At that, she slammed the dryer door shut, turned to face him and slapped her hands on her hips. “How do you figure?”
“Stan Carlton from The Gazette called and left a message for you.”
“What’d he say?”
“That your proposal was accepted, the Dear Debbie column is going great and that he’s giving you a raise.”
Finally. Some good news for a change. For a moment, she was so stunned—and pleased—that she forgot Drew had called her a liar. Well, more or less.
“You told me that you wanted to get a job at The Gazette,” he said, “but apparently you already have one.”
“Actually, it was a part-time position as the lovelorn columnist, and it didn’t pay squat.”
“You?” he said. “What do you know about love, let alone offering advice to people?”
