A Texas Hero

by Linda Warren

  “Ethan.”

  “Go to sleep.”

  “I’m worried about my little girl.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine. Doesn’t your dad have her?”

  “Doug probably has her by now. I don’t want him to tell her what happened. She’ll be scared.”

  “He’s a father. He won’t do that.”

  “I guess.” She jumped up at a chirping sound. “What’s that?”

  “Crickets. They’re harmless.”

  “I know, but they’re very loud.” She pulled the mattress closer to his. “It might be something else.”

  “It isn’t. Lie down and go to sleep.”

  She sat on the mattress, but didn’t lie on it. “Aren’t you worried about your daughter?”

  He sighed. “What do you hear when I say go to sleep?”

  “I’m sorry. I feel as if I’ve had a double espresso. I’m wired and restless. Could we talk for just a minute? It might help me to relax.”

  “Why do women always want to talk?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, why do men want to drink beer and watch sports?”

  “So we don’t have to talk.”

  “Too bad. We’re talking.”

  He groaned, wondering if he was ever going to win with this woman. She should have been a lawyer.

  “Is your daughter okay with your dad?”

  He wasn’t going to answer. Putting his hands behind his head, he stared out at the dark sky. A wide swatch of black velvet with millions of twinkling rhinestones covered it, or so it seemed. The moon hung like a big spotlight enhancing the glow of the rhinestones. It was beautiful. Relaxing.

  Before he knew it, he began to speak. “Kelsey’s...”

  “What a pretty name.”

  “I didn’t pick it.”

  “Mmm. So she’s okay with your dad?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means it’s complicated. Now...”

  “No, I’m not going to sleep,” she snapped. “Tell me about your dad and your daughter.”

  He turned to gaze at her through the darkness. “You can be annoying.”

  “Do you want me to tell you what you’re like?”

  “No. I know what I’m like.”

  “Good. So continue.”

  He stared at the starry rhinestones, wondering if he could bore her to sleep if he kept talking. He understood her anxieties. There were a lot of dangers out here, but he couldn’t dwell on that. They had to rest for the walk tomorrow.

  “My dad is a country cowboy, born and raised in Willow Creek, Texas. He has a ranch and works the land like his father before him. He’s a simple man and not too knowledgeable about today’s teenagers. When my daughter arrived with her long dyed-black hair with a purple streak, black jeans and T-shirt, painted black nails and toenails with three earrings in each ear, it was a bit of a shock.”

  “Oh, my.”

  “The first thing he said was, ‘Son of a bitch, the aliens have landed.’”

  “Oh, no.”

  “I had to have a talk with him. His vocabulary is a bit colorful and I asked him to curb his swearing around Kelsey. I wanted to create a better environment for her.”

  “Did he do it?”

  “Oh, yeah. He made up new words to use. Instead of saying son of a bitch, he now says things like sunny beaches or son of a beady-eyed bitty or son of a dipstick or anything that comes to mind. For goddamn he says shazam. For shit he says shih tzu.”

  “That’s a dog.”

  “Yes, and bull shih tzu sounds even worse. As does baboon or buffoon for bastard.”

  “What does he use for the f word?”

  “He’s an old cowboy and doesn’t use that word.”

  “That’s a relief.” He could almost see her smiling. “She’ll stay at his house until you return?”

  “I live with my dad. I guess I didn’t make that clear.”

  She laughed. A soft melodious sound that under other circumstances would have excited him. Now it irritated him.

  “You find that funny?”

  “Oh, yeah. Mr. Macho Cop living with his dad just doesn’t fit.”

  “I’m macho enough to make it work.”

  “I bet you are.” She laughed that sound again. “Have you always lived at home?”

  “I had an apartment in Austin, but my mom died about five years ago and I started going out to the ranch more and more because I knew my dad was lonely. He’s getting older and I noticed how much he’s slowed down. On my days off, I started helping him on the ranch. When it was late, I’d stay the night. I was using my apartment very little so I decided to move home. When I found out about Kelsey, I was glad I had a real home for her.”

  She jumped up again at a soft hoot. “Oh, oh, what’s that noise?”

  “It’s an owl. Haven’t you been in the country before?”

  “Once. When I was a Girl Scout. I think I was eight.” She pulled the mattress closer to his. He could reach out and touch her, which he wouldn’t.

  “I’m sorry about your situation, but I’m sure your dad and Kelsey will adjust, especially since they’re both worried about you.”

  “Not likely. Kelsey tends to ignore us. She stays in her room watching vampire movies and only comes out to eat.”

  “How sad.”

  “She’d agreed to go horseback riding this morning. That’s why I was in a hurry to get home.”

  “I’m so sorry for stopping on the highway like that. Everything was my fault.”

  He sat up, feeling restless and edgy. “In life things happen, so don’t beat yourself up too much.” He didn’t know why he was letting her off so easily. Maybe because there was no way to change what happened. And Abby would, if she could.

  “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me.”

  “Mmm. I’m not known for niceness.”

  “How about with Kelsey?”

  He wrapped his arms around his knees. “I’m trying, but at this late date I’m not sure if we can form a father-daughter connection. I’ve enrolled her in school, but I worry how she’ll fit in. Willow Creek is a country school with country kids who wear Wranglers and boots. Some wear the low-rider jeans and T-shirts, but none have a purple streak in their hair.”

  “They wouldn’t dare make fun of Macho Cop’s kid.”

  “Bullying has even made it into country schools, so I’m not taking anything for granted. We’re supposed to meet with the principal soon. Kelsey’s grades are awful, barely passing. It’s not that she’s slow or has a learning problem. She reads all the time. She’s been in fifteen different schools as she was shuffled back and forth from her grandmother to Sheryl. She hasn’t spent a whole year in any school. If I can’t give her anything else, I want to give her a stable home where she can have family and friends.”

  The owl hooted through the trees, making them aware of where they were.

  “Are you sure that’s an owl?” She pulled the mattress until it touched his.

  “Positive. And does that make you feel safer?”

  “Yes.”

  He tightened his arms around his knees, marveling at how much he’d told her. He’d never opened up this much to any woman, including his mom. It had to be the night and the circumstances. Or it could be her. She was easy to talk to. Sometimes. Other times she drove him crazy. And he’d known her less than twenty-four hours.

  “Since you have me wide-awake, tell me about your storybook life.” Did he just ask her to talk? They were never going to get any sleep. His macho demeanor didn’t work on her.

  “Why do you think I’ve had a storybook life?”

  “You have that Princess-Barbie-sorority-girl look that comes with we
alth and privilege.”

  “I resent that.” She came right back at him just as he knew she would.

  “What was your life like, then?”

  “Okay, maybe at first it was. My dad was president of a bank and we lived a good life. And, yes, they probably spoiled me.”

  “Probably?”

  “Shut up. I didn’t interrupt you.”

  He held up his hands. “Okay. Okay.”

  “My mom died in childbirth when I was ten. My baby brother died, too. She started hemorrhaging in her seventh month and the doctors couldn’t stop it. Dad and I were devastated. Mom was the foundation of our lives, and we didn’t know how to live without her. But eventually we had to start living again.”

  “That couldn’t have been easy for a ten-year-old.”

  “No, but time slowly coated the pain with lovely memories. It drew my dad and me closer. When I was fifteen, he started dating. That was a shock.” He could feel her moving restlessly. “The first time I met the woman I hated her. I thought she was after my dad’s money, but then I found out she had money from her wealthy first husband. So I told her she could never take my mother’s place and she would never be my mother.”

  “Wow. You must have been a real bitch at fifteen.”

  “I was hurt and I guess I thought if I hated her enough, he’d stop seeing her.”

  “And he didn’t?”

  “No. I apologized to both of them, but things never got better. When I moved into a dorm at the University of Texas, they got married and Gayle moved into our home. She slept in my mother’s bed. That drove me crazy.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. It was my mom’s dream house. She designed it, decorated it. It was hers.”

  “Did you get over that feeling?”

  “Well, Dad finally sold the house and built Gayle her own home.”

  “Because of your feelings.”

  “Yes. I’m an awful person. Aren’t you glad you dragged that out of me?”

  “Nope, but I’m seeing you in a whole new light.”

  “As a bitch?”

  “Sort of.”

  She leaped onto his mattresses and punched him in the shoulder. “Oh, crap, that’s like hitting a wall.” She rubbed her hand.

  “Then don’t do it.”

  “Then don’t call me a bitch.” She sank down by him, her hip touching his thigh, which was too close for his comfort. Way too close.

  “I didn’t. You did,” he pointed out and knew he should move away. But he didn’t. “I hope things got better.”

  “I grew up and realized Dad deserved a life of his own. I got caught up in college life, dated, met Doug, the man of my dreams, or so I thought. Gayle and I maintain an amicable truce. Chloe and I have dinner with them once a week and Dad keeps Chloe when I need someone. Like this morning.”

  “Since you’re big on talking, have you tried it with Gayle?”

  “Yes, but the battle lines were drawn with my teenage behavior and Gayle can’t seem to forget that. I hate that my dad gets caught in the middle. I’ve often thought of finding another sitter for Chloe, but Dad loves her and Chloe adores her grandpa.”

  “How often do you go out?”

  “Maybe once a month.”

  “That shouldn’t be too much to ask.”

  “I wish life wasn’t so complicated and tense. I wish we could live together as a happy, loving family. But the teenage jealous bitch in me destroyed that.”

  “Don’t be so melodramatic. Your problem with your stepmom is minor compared to what I see on a daily basis. Parents killing their children. Children murdering their parents in their sleep. For your dad, beg for your stepmom’s forgiveness. Beg until she caves and your problem is solved. Someone has to bend and since you started the battle, you have to. For your own sanity, make it work.” He stretched out. “Now I’m going to sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a long, hot day.”

  He closed his eyes, but she didn’t move. In the few hours he’d known her she’d continued to surprise him. He hoped she wasn’t going to surprise him now.

  * * *

  ABBY LISTENED TO the chirps of crickets mingling with the hoots of the owl. The sounds of the night surrounded her and gave her courage. She’d wanted to do this earlier, but lost her nerve. There was something about the darkness that freed her inhibitions.

  She was touched by his story and his determination to build a life with his daughter. He was different than any man she’d ever met. And she was attracted to him. Even after all they’d been through, she was very aware of him as a man.

  “Ethan.”

  “Go to sleep, Abby.”

  “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “No.”

  “It’s personal for me, not you.”

  “The answer is still no.”

  “I’ll go to sleep if you answer.”

  He groaned. “What is it?”

  “Um...” Her courage faltered for a second. “Um...when we kissed, was my response cold?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “It’s a stupid question, and I’m not answering.”

  She chewed on her lip trying to find the right words. “When I found out Doug was cheating and our marriage blew up, he blamed me. He said I was cold, unresponsive in bed and it was like making love to a mannequin.”

  “You didn’t fall for that, did you?”

  “Well...”

  “He’s trying to make you feel guilty for his misdeeds.”

  “I realized that, but there was a small part of me that felt it was true.”

  “Why?”

  “I was very naive. I had a couple of sexual experiences in college that weren’t satisfactory. Then I met Doug and he was nice, gentle and kind, and...”

  “And what?”

  She didn’t know if she could continue. She’d never told the intimate details of her marriage to anyone. Not even Holly. The darkness once again gave her courage.

  “Sex wasn’t as I’d imagined between two people in love. I was usually glad when it was over. I kept telling myself it would get better after we were married. How stupid was that?”

  He didn’t say anything. She should stop before she made a fool of herself, but somehow she couldn’t.

  “Doug was my husband and I wanted to please him, but there was never an ‘Oh, my God’ moment for me. After Chloe was born, I lost all interest in sex. Chloe was a fussy baby and cried a lot. I was exhausted from taking care of her. Doug wanted to hire a nanny. I refused. That’s when our marriage really started to deteriorate. So you see, I’m partly to blame. I drove him to other women.”

  “Did you try talking to him?”

  “Yes. He said everything was fine. It wasn’t, though. I’m afraid I’m one of those women who don’t enjoy sex.”

  Complete silence followed her declaration and from some secret place in her she found the nerve to continue. “I’m very aware of you as a man.”

  “Don’t go there, Abby.”

  “Why not? We’re both over twenty-one. Adults. Unattached. And free to do what we want. No strings. No attachment. Just sex.”

  “I’m not having unprotected sex, especially under these circumstances.”

  “I have a diaphragm.”

  “It doesn’t matter. The only rise you’re getting out of me tonight is my temper. Please go back to your mattress and go to sleep.”

  “Okay. Okay.” She crawled to her spot, feeling rejected and about as low as she could get. She couldn’t even seduce a man.

  “When you get home, see a therapist and work through your issues about sex. Sometimes sex is more in the brain than in the genitals.”

  “Gee, I should have that printed on a T-shirt.�
�

  “Abby.” He sighed. “We’ve only known each other a few hours and most of that time we’ve been at each other’s throats. I’m not trying to hurt you. I just think it’s not wise for us to get emotionally involved.”

  “You’re right,” she admitted grudgingly. “After everything we’ve been through, I fear I’m losing it.”

  “You’re not. You’re just punch-drunk from exhaustion. Try to sleep. That will help.”

  “I’m afraid to close my eyes. If I do, I’ll be back in the bank with that gun pressed against my temple, or lying against that log with bugs crawling over me waiting for the blast of a gun.”

  “Close your eyes and you’ll simply go to sleep. You’re too tired to dream.”

  His words were comforting. She lay back and felt miserable. “My clothes are filthy and sweaty and I’m dirty from head to toe. I can feel sand between my toes. I can’t sleep like this.”

  “Just don’t think about it.”

  She sat up. “I’ll wipe my body with my top. Maybe I’ll feel better.”

  “Whatever. You don’t need to tell me what you’re doing.”

  She pulled her damp top over her head and wiped her neck, breasts and arms. The wind touched her skin. “Ah, that feels good.”

  “Mmm” was his sleepy reply.

  A loud howl echoed in the distance.

  “What’s that?” She leaped onto his mattress right on top of him, their arms and legs entangled.

  “It’s a coyote. For heaven’s sakes, I know you’ve heard a coyote before.”

  “On TV and in movies, but not this up close and personal.”

  “He’s miles away and not a threat. I’m about to lose my patience, Abby.”

  “And you’re touching my breast.”

  “I know.” His thumb stroked her nipple until an ache began in her lower belly and dribbled lower.

  “You said...ah...” His mouth replaced his thumb and all thought left her. With each suckle, she felt wicked, sinful and ridiculously free. From what, she wasn’t sure, but she went with the delicious emotions building in her.

  “E-than.”

  “Shh. Don’t talk, Abby. Just don’t talk.”

  His hand slid around her neck and pulled her face to his, their lips met in an explosive kiss, their tongues meeting, dancing, discovering. Abby had never experienced anything this primitive before and she wasn’t holding back or freezing up. She was giving as well as taking. Maybe she was punch-drunk.