Texas Roots: The Gallaghers of Sweetgrass Springs

by Jean Brashear

  She whirled, knife in her hand again.

  "Now you tell me what you're so scared of." He stalked toward her.

  "I…can't. I'm not— I have my reasons. I'm not simply holding back."

  "The hell you're not."

  They stood like opponents in the ring in that moment before battle is joined.

  She set down the knife, her huge blue eyes so deep a man could drown in them. "What are you doing here?"

  "Living up to my half of the bargain. Your turn."

  She looked so small. So sad. "Ian…I would if I could. I just—it's complicated."

  "Life is complicated."

  Suddenly she threw herself into his arms. "I missed you. I didn't want to."

  He gathered her in. "I was only going to come tonight to remind you about the work day." He pressed her closer. Lifted her chin. "Not."

  Then he kissed her.

  She answered him fully, wriggling closer as if she could crawl inside his skin.

  He wished she would. Maybe then he'd know what the hell was standing between them.

  He was so lonely. Never once in his life had he acknowledged that feeling. Never knew he could feel so damn sad and empty. He lifted his mouth from hers, prepared to try again to convince her—

  "Don't," she murmured, fingers over his lips. "Just kiss me."

  There should be a way to fix this. Damn it, he was good at solving problems.

  I missed you so. But she wouldn't tell him one detail. How could he make it right for her, for them? Was he kidding himself to think there could be a them? She'd walked away from him, run from him, truth be told. Whatever her reason was…

  It wasn't that she didn't like it here. She did, he was positive. What could be holding her back?

  But he couldn't fix what he didn't understand.

  She was so close, so sweet. He was so hungry for her. Later…they would hash this out, he vowed.

  But for now he let go of everything but this moment. This sense of coming home. He gathered her closer, but nothing was close enough. He deepened the kiss and let his hands roam over her, wishing he could take her inside his skin.

  She responded fervently, locking her arms around his neck and standing on tiptoe until he was tempted to just scoop her up and carry her off, except he couldn't seem to stop touching her.

  Every kiss was a torture, a blessing.

  "We can't—Ian, we can't make love here."

  He didn't release her, but he stared down into that beautiful face. And sighed. "I know."

  He didn't want to share this with anyone. Sure, he could take her home, but…he didn't want to share her with his dad. Ruby's place wasn't any better. Ruby had half the town living there.

  He still had blankets from the picnic in his truck, but it was too cold outside.

  "The courthouse," she said suddenly, eyes twinkling. "Is that crazy?"

  "It's genius. Come on."

  He retrieved the blankets, and they crept across the courthouse lawn like two truant kids. The door was never locked, so getting inside was a piece of cake.

  "I feel like I'm fifteen," she said with a giggle.

  "Twelve. The four of us snuck in here one night when we were twelve. It was still a working courthouse."

  "What did you do?"

  "Nothing, really. Just…" He shrugged. "We were boys. It was there." He paused. "Well, okay, we were looking for The Lady. We were hoping she'd help us scare the crap out of Tank."

  "Why would she be scary? I think her story is just…sad. It breaks my heart."

  "Twelve-year-old boys don't think about mushy stuff. Give 'em the gross, every time."

  They'd reached the top, the cupola where Ruby held her halftime vigil.

  "I—" She hesitated.

  "What?"

  "I… I think I saw something the other night when I was up here."

  "You saw her?"

  "I'm sure it wasn't—"

  "It was her."

  "How would you know? Did you ever see her?"

  "I did once, actually. Never told anybody, though. The guys would never have let me hear the end of it."

  "Did she say anything?"

  He shook his head. "She only looked at me. She…" He shrugged.

  "What?"

  "She —I could swear I felt her stroke my hair and—"

  "And what?"

  "It's crazy, but for a second, I thought she kissed my forehead."

  "Were you scared?"

  "No, that was the weird part. I felt…safe. She almost felt like a mother or something. The only thing she said to me was Wait." He felt foolish and busied himself spreading out the blanket, but he was too restless to lie down. He made his way to the parapet and looked out.

  "You love this town, don't you?" she asked.

  "Love it and hate it."

  "Because you're trapped here?"

  "I'm not trapped." But he felt that way sometimes, like he was a bird in a cage, beating his wings against the edges of the bars, sometimes so full of rage and longing he didn't know what to do with. "I'm needed here."

  "Ian." Her small hand came to rest on his forearm. "Maybe you're meant to go. You've given up your dreams for this town, but you don't have to. If it's not working, you just move on."

  The ache of it, the grinding pain of his lifelong wish to see what was out there, to choose his own path, nearly leveled him. "That's your answer?" he accused. "Times get tough and you run? Is that what your mother taught you?"

  She looked stricken.

  "Running is no answer. Life gets hard, but you don't run away. You don't leave everyone who needs you behind."

  A tear fell from her lashes, and she turned her back on him. Put distance between them. "You don't understand."

  "I understand plenty. Your grandmother needs you here. This town will die without her cafe. Hell, I need you here." He cursed and wheeled away. Why had he said that? He felt like the little boy who wanted to beg his mother not to go.

  Who had begged her.

  His mother had looked at him for a long time. For those moments, he'd thought he'd succeeded, that she wouldn't go, that she wouldn't abandon him.

  Then she'd said those few fatal words. I have to. I'm dying here.

  And she'd walked out, leaving him behind. He'd wanted to go with her, desperately, but even a boy had known instinctively that doing so would kill his dad.

  So he'd stayed.

  Scarlett turned ravaged eyes to his. "I'm sorry. Sorrier than you can possibly know. If I could stay, I would. There's nothing I'd like better. And Nana's note is coming due, I found out. I wish I had the money to help her, but she won't take what I have."

  She gestured to the building in which they stood. "This place could be an amazing space. You could turn the ground floor into a restaurant serving locally-grown foods. You could make it a destination restaurant people would drive to from miles away, and it could serve your organic beef and your fresh butter and cream. The rest of it could be an events center where people held weddings and corporate gatherings. There's so much—"

  "Then do it." The surge of hope was painful. "Do it for your grandmother and yourself and the town where your ancestors lived and died so that you could have roots."

  Torment rode hard over her delicate features. "I wish I could," she whispered. "But I…can't. Ian, I can't."

  "Why not?" He tore the plea from his gut. "You can do anything you really want to."

  "If that's true, then why don't you go? Why don't you see the world you're dying to travel?"

  I…can't. He looked at her, seeing his own confusion and misery mirrored in her blue eyes.

  "I'll do your work day," she whispered. "Then I have to go. Please—let me tell Nana myself."

  He watched her and felt the shimmer of dreams dying. The agony of what would never be. "I don't understand."

  "Yes, you do." She rose to her toes to plant a kiss to his cheek.

  As she turned away, he hauled her back hard against him. Fight for me, he wanted
to shout. Fight for us.

  But he could feel her trembling, and he knew that whatever it was that held her back, she truly believed the obstacle to be insurmountable.

  He could bark at her, lecture her, he could plead.

  Or he could feed his soul one last time.

  Even though he would pay later with agony.

  "I am so sorry." She started to draw out of his arms.

  "Not yet," he said. "Don't leave me yet."

  He sensed her hovering on the edge of indecision, but he could feel her longing as deep as his own.

  So he seized the moment and kissed her.

  She hesitated.

  Then melted into his arms.

  This was going to hurt ten times worse, but he wanted the memories, however painful. So he took her down to the blanket, and proceeded to love her the way he wished he could do for a lifetime.

  * * *

  Scarlett felt worshiped. And ravaged. Raked by a pain so intense she wondered if she'd survive it. Yet at the same time, her body responded to the glories of Ian's lovemaking, the steady strength he possessed in such abundance. He teased all her senses, willed her flesh to fly with his, her spirit to match his, her body to revel in touch and taste, teeth and tongue, hard against soft. He drew out the lovemaking until she thought she could not bear one more second, yet she never wanted it to end.

  She wept through most of it, the passion and the glory of him too much for her heart to bear. They soared together into the chilled moonlight, but he warmed her with kisses, with caresses of hands so strong yet so gentle. Never in her life had she experienced lovemaking of such splendor, of such power.

  She crested again and again until she finally begged for him. "Ian, I need you—"

  His powerful thrust made her gasp. His deep groan, his teeth nipping at her throat, their rushed breathing—

  "I wish…" he murmured.

  I wish.

  She did, too. Wished for more than she could put into words.

  "Don't think," he demanded, and sealed his mouth to hers, setting up a rhythm that hurled her into the starry night, into the realm of dreams, into the bliss of union she knew she would never feel again with anyone else.

  The thought of this intimacy with any other man was unbearable. She spread her fingers over the back of his head, yearning to shield them both from the future she could not bear to anticipate.

  Then he changed the rhythm, and shot them both out past the edge of thought, where it was only possible to feel, to fly—

  And when at last they fell to earth, he held her as though never to let her go. As if she were special.

  Scarlett's tears slid into her hair as she held him close, this man she had to protect from the ugliness she would bring into his life if she faltered.

  At last he relaxed into slumber.

  It was like tearing her own heart out to slip away and dress quietly. To cover him as best she could.

  To kneel beside him and study a face that had become beloved.

  She wanted to kiss him again, but one of them had to be the last, and every last one would be painful.

  Better to let him sleep.

  And let him go.

  Tomorrow was the work day.

  The next day she would have to depart.

  She moved quietly toward the stairs—

  A wisp of white flitted past her vision.

  Stay.

  Scarlett halted. Blinked. She stared, but there was no one there.

  Then Ian stirred.

  Quickly she escaped.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I wish.

  Stay.

  Damn, had he really said those things?

  What part of I can't stay don't you understand, numb nuts?

  And why had he bared himself to her the way he had, talking about the Louvre, telling her about his mother, for Pete's sake? Opening his heart to her as they loved—

  So she could leave him to wake up alone and cold. Feeling a worse fool than he already had.

  "What's wrong, Boss?" Billy asked.

  Ian whipped his head around, read to bite off Billy's head—

  But Billy was innocent. All these people were. He'd organized this workday, and he was being a jerk.

  Veronica cast yet another worried glance at him, and he could see guilt written all over her features. Didn't she have a hard enough time accepting help? Now here he was, behaving like a jackass, ready to snap at anyone just because—

  Because he'd been left. Again. How did he even know Scarlett hadn't skipped town last night?

  Just then Henry came around the corner of Veronica's house. "We got the cafe closed. What can I do to help?"

  Who's we? he wanted to ask. But then he saw her.

  Scarlett was walking over with trays of food in her hands. Brenda and Jeanette also bore trays. "Go help Scarlett," he told Henry.

  "That's the last. I already unloaded everything else. It's in your kitchen, Mrs. Butler," he said. "That's okay, right?"

  "It's perfect. Thank you, Henry." Like everyone else here, Veronica was dressed for hard work. Already they'd gotten a lot done. None of this would solve her day-to-day problems, much less long term, but the work being done would buy her some time. The greenhouses were being repaired, and the gate for one of the pens sported new hinges. The stalls had all been mucked out and replaced with fresh hay. Jonas was tuning up the tractor, while Harley Sykes changed the oil in David's old pickup.

  And Ian was watching Scarlett walk away. Not once had she met his eyes.

  Coward. That's all she was, a coward, like her mother. Like his. Run away, then. We don't need you.

  "Ian?" Veronica's touch on his arm jolted him.

  "What?"

  "What's wrong? Can I help? You should take it easy. You've been working ten times harder than anyone else."

  "There's a lot to get done," he snapped, then immediately felt like slime. "I'm sorry. It's not…" He exhaled. Made himself get a grip. "This isn't about you. I apologize."

  She glanced at Scarlett, then back. "What has she done? I'll go give her a piece of my mind."

  Hell. He was letting his bad mood contaminate the entire crew. "It won't help. There's nothing to talk to Scarlett about, anyway."

  "She's been sad all morning," Henry volunteered. "She nearly didn't come out here."

  "She shouldn't have to," Veronica said. "It's not mandatory. She's already done so much. I'll go tell her she doesn't need to stay."

  "Leave her—" Ian barked. Then yanked off his ball cap. "Look, I apologize. I just got up on the wrong side of the bed, I guess. Ignore me." He turned to Henry. "I think Dad could use some help over at the chicken coop. With that cold front coming late next week, he's creating a second wind break. Would you mind?"

  "Not a bit!" Henry brightened and left.

  "Ian…has she hurt you?" Veronica asked.

  Great—just what he needed, to become an object of pity. Scarlett hadn't invited him to fall for her. Had done everything possible to warn him off, in fact.

  But damn it, what was she so scared of? What on earth could be dogging her? "She's hurting herself worse. And she's going to break Ruby's heart when she goes."

  "Are you so sure she's leaving?"

  "Yeah. But I don't know why. Guess she's just like my mom. Sweetgrass isn't exciting enough for her."

  "She's seemed so…engaged. She's making a place for herself here."

  "She doesn't want to. And we can't force her." He sighed. "But I don't know what to do to help Ruby. Her note's coming due, and I don't think she has the money to pay it off."

  "Oh, dear. I—maybe we could take up a collection."

  "You know anyone in this town who's got an extra dime?" he asked with more bitterness than he intended to betray.

  "No. And Ruby's too proud to accept it, anyway."

  "Scarlett had this great idea, but it would take money to fund it plus a star-quality chef." He laughed without humor. "Which is about as likely as calling the moon down to earth
."

  "Isn't she an actual chef?"

  "Yeah. A damn good one. She cooked a meal last Sunday that was out of this world. Conjured it up from nothing. She's got a touch, that's for sure." His mouth turned down. "But she's not staying."

  Veronica was staring in the direction Scarlett had gone. "I'm going to have a word with her."

  "No." He stopped her before she could. "Please. She—I don't think she's happy about leaving, despite what I just said. I have this sense that there's something else going on, but she refuses to talk about it."

  "Well, then," Veronica put her hands on her hips. "You just have to make her tell you."

  He snorted. "I've tried. I'm done with trying. Let her go. We don't need her."

  She was quiet for a long moment.

  He turned away. "I've got work to do on the well pump."

  "Ian…don't lie to yourself. Don't give up on her, not yet."

  "I know when I'm whipped." He tugged down the bill of his cap as he left.

  * * *

  "So you're my cousin," said a voice from behind Scarlett.

  She whirled, a tray of sandwiches in her hand. "I am?" Another cousin?

  The woman who'd entered the kitchen was half a foot taller than her, with a long, glossy red ponytail and challenging green eyes. She wore beat-up jeans like they were second nature, with a western shirt rolled up to her elbows and a thermal undershirt beneath it.

  She was lean and lithe, a tomboy as a girl, Scarlett would bet.

  "I'm Rissa Gallagher. And you're the woman who's got Ian chewing nails. You leave him alone, you hear? He doesn't need some snotty city girl bothering him."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Exactly. Snotty. Prissy." The woman glared at her. "Ian was like a big brother to me growing up. He's had plenty of heartache, and his life is hard enough. My own brother abandoned us, his twin took off to be important like you, and Ian stayed behind to clean up the damage. He doesn't need your bullshit. And Aunt Ruby deserves better."

  Wow. "What do you know about anything? I've never even seen you before. If you care so much about my grandmother, how come you've never come around?"

  The woman Nana had called Clarissa—whose sweetly feminine name didn't suit her one bit—tugged her ball cap down further on her brow and frowned from beneath the bill. "I don't get to town much. Running a ranch doesn't leave a lot of free time, even in the slow season. Ian's lost a lot of sleep to be with you."