Then hands were everywhere, yanking them apart.
Tate struggled furiously. His hands were forced behind his back, and he was suddenly slammed over the hood of his car. He stilled.
Tucker landed next to him, face down.
Oh God. Tate turned his head to see a bleeding Dillon watching several deputies do their jobs. “Dillon?” he croaked, blood bubbling from his mouth.
Dillon shook his head and accepted a rag from a deputy. “Nothin’ I can do. I’ll call your folks to bail you out.”
Flashes popped to the right, and Tate turned to see a newspaper reporter snapping pictures. Ah, hell.
Chapter Three
Zeke Johnson kept the truck to only twenty miles over the speed limit, when all he wanted to do was gun it and get back home and away from all the damn gossips. Those damn fool boys. When the hell were either of them going to grow up?
“Slow down,” Alice murmured, her gaze on the trees whizzing by outside. “Our peaceful house isn’t going anywhere.”
“We should have left their dumb asses in jail,” he muttered. Instead, he’d bailed them out and sent them away from each other with a promise that they were gonna have a good talk and soon. For now, he needed to get his temper under control, and so did they. “A street fight. Can you believe it?”
She reached over and rubbed his arm. As usual, her touch instantly calmed him. Always had and always would. “They’re both hurting.”
“Both?” Zeke shook head. “Tate’s hurting. Tucker’s the cause.”
“Things aren’t that simple,” Alice murmured. “Tate and Hannah weren’t right for each other, and Tate was too focused on his career and grand plan to notice. Tucker noticed.”
“He shouldn’t have done what he did,” Zeke said, pulling the truck around some wild ducks waddling across the crumbling road. “If he was serious about this girl, he should’ve sat down with his brother and talked it out like men.”
“Sometimes we don’t discover the right way until we’ve already gone down the wrong path,” she murmured.
When the boys were young, they’d often duke it out and then go off happy as clams together. “Do you think the fight helped?” Zeke asked.
“I don’t know,” she sighed. “For Tucker and Hannah to have a shot, Tate has to forgive them. I know Tucker, and while he’s all starry-eyed now, if his brother never relents, Tucker won’t allow himself to be happy.”
Zeke looked toward his wife, his instincts humming. “I know that tone. What are you planning?”
She sent him a brilliant smile, still taking his breath away after all these years. “Well, I was just thinking. If Tate found the right girl for him, then he’d see what love really felt like and he’d forgive his brother.”
“Oh, no.” The woman was about to matchmake, and as much as he loved her, every time she interfered in the romances of others, disaster ensued. Yet, Alice knew her sons. “Who do you have in mind?”
“I’m still working on it,” she mused. “That nice Marisol Moreno is a wonderful woman, but I think she has eyes for Patrick. Or rather, Patrick seems a little moonstruck over her, so I wouldn’t want to interfere. Don’t worry, I’ll find just the right girl.”
Zeke cleared his throat. “I’m not so convinced about Hannah for either of our sons. I mean, she dated one and slept with the other. Is that really the gal you want in our lives?”
Alice patted her gray-flecked brown hair. “I like her, and I think she could make Tucker happy. Oh, she definitely made a mistake, as did Tucker, but she’s human. The girl loves animals, so she has to be nice, right?”
Zeke reached over and took Alice’s hand, letting up on the gas. Her sweetness always warmed him.
Soon their family homestead came into view. White sprawling house, pristine blue shutters, a wraparound porch for family and friends.
They pulled into the circular driveway and his chest compressed. “Shit.” Chase Johnson, the one and only, was calmly sitting on the porch swing, his guitar case leaning against the house, his boots crossed at the ankles. His blond hair had turned gray, and new lines fanned out from his blue eyes. A scar ran along the right side of his neck from what looked like an old knife wound.
His jeans were old, his cotton shirt blue, and his gaze shuttered.
Alice released Zeke’s hand and sat up. “Remember what you were just saying about brothers,” she said softly.
“My brother doesn’t count,” Zeke ground out between gritted teeth. His day had been crappy enough, and now the prodigal son, the absent Johnson, had decided to return to town without warning? “Did you know he was coming?” Zeke asked.
“Of course not,” Alice said. “How would I know?”
“Just thought he would’ve been smart enough to give somebody warning.” Zeke cut the engine, so many resentful feelings filling him he could barely breathe.
Alice patted his hand and scooted for her door. “He’s your brother, Zeke. It has been a long time.” She opened the door and stepped out onto the gravel drive.
Yeah. A long time—and in that time, Zeke had run the ranch, raised a family, and done his duty. What had Chase done? Chased women, dreams, and honkytonks all over the country without a care in the world. He’d left Anna Mae Prager, a woman who loved him, without a backward glance so long ago. The woman was still alone…a spinster.
Alice was almost to the porch.
Zeke opened his door and jumped out, striding quickly around the cab and heading for the house. He caught sight of a duffle bag on the other side of the swing. Just great. Chase was there for longer than a few minutes. Was there any way in hell Alice would let Zeke tell his brother to stay at the motel in town? Maybe he could just hint and Chase would actually do the right thing for once.
Chase stood and gave Alice an awkward hug. “I hope it’s okay I came by without calling.”
Hell, no, it wasn’t okay. Zeke climbed the three porch steps and then stopped. “We’re used to you not calling.”
Alice cut him a look. “Chase, it’s fine. Why don’t you come inside and I’ll get supper started. Are you hungry?”
Chase nodded, his gaze warming. “For a home cooked meal? Are you kidding?”
Alice grabbed his guitar case, while Chase fetched his bag. “Maybe you can play a song or two after dinner,” she said, opening the door.
Chase stumbled and then quickly righted himself. “Maybe. How are things on the ranch?”
“Fine,” Zeke said, his voice clipped. What the hell did Chase care about the ranch? “How are things on the road chasing dreams?” For Pete’s sakes, he had to drop the sarcasm. He was even starting to piss himself off.
Alice shot him another look over her shoulder, this one letting him know if he gave one more smart-ass remark, he was sleeping in the barn. Oh, he knew that look well after decades of marriage.
He frowned back at her but pressed his lips together to keep his damn mouth shut.
Chase cleared his throat. “The road is fine, but I have to tell you, when I drove back into town, it felt good.”
Yeah. Coming back for a vacation to see the people who’d worked and sacrificed for the family ranch probably did feel like a welcome breeze. Zeke kicked off his boots. “Are you going to call Anna Mae?”
Chase set his bag down near the stairs leading up to the five bedrooms. “I don’t know. It’s been a while since we talked, Zeke.”
No shit. “So, what brings you home?” The nonchalant tone didn’t fool any of them, but at least it didn’t tick off Alice.
* * * *
Chase looked at his younger brother, who couldn’t stand him, and tried to act normal. What had brought him home? That was quite the question, and one he wasn’t prepared to answer. “I thought it’d be nice to see everyone.” Even the mention of Anna Mae sped up his heart. It had been so damn long. Was she involved with anybody? How did he ask that without sounding like a moron?
“We’re glad you’re here.” Alice put his guitar against the rugged sofa table. �
��I’ll go start dinner while you two catch up. I hope you’re staying for a while, Chase.”
He didn’t look at his brother. Nope. Not a chance. “Why Alice, I’d love to stay.” Tension came off Zeke in waves, and Chase pretended he didn’t notice. Truth was, he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Sure, he’d figured Zeke would be a little cold, but not to this degree. So much for the big welcome he’d dreamed about.
Alice turned. “Boys? Sit down and relax. I’ll be a few minutes.”
“Let’s go outside. It’s a nice evening,” Zeke all but grunted, turning on his heel and heading out the front door again.
Chase followed him out, frustrated. He’d worked hard, and he’d found some success as a blues guitarist. But was his brother proud?
No.
Which was crazy, considering how great Zeke’s life was. He had a loving wife, three kids, a homestead, and his health.
“Why are you so angry I’m back?” Chase asked before he could stop himself.
“I’m not angry you’re back. I’m angry you left,” Zeke replied, dropping into one of several wooden rocking chairs. “Now’s not the time to get into it. We are where we are.”
Yep. That was his brother. Right to the point and not pulling punches. “I’m sorry that my leaving left you in charge of the entire ranch.” It hadn’t been fair, but he’d had the bug for the blues. “It seems like you’ve done really well.”
Zeke breathed out, his nostrils flaring. “Yeah. I’ve done well. In fact, everything is just fucking great.”
Chapter Four
Tucker Johnson gingerly fingered his busted lip as he walked down Main Street. His ribs ached, his knuckles pounded, and his damn chest hurt. He’d tried to apologize to his brother again, and he’d gotten punched in the face.
Not that he could blame Tate.
God, what a mess. If he thought, for one second, that Hannah and Tate could be happy together, he’d leave town in a heartbeat. But they weren’t made for each other. And Tucker was becoming more and more certain with each passing day that Hannah was made for him, because he’d never been so happy as when he was with her.
But while things might be perfect between the two of them, he had to fix his relationship with his brother for the world to be right again. And then finally his relationship with Hannah wouldn’t have to be hidden away.
A couple of biddies on the other side of the street glanced his way and then put their noses in the air, hustling by.
God. Now he was a pariah. They’d better not treat Hannah like that. She’d spent most of the last few weeks out of the public eye, either at her practice or out dealing with animals and not people.
He pulled open the door to the Bluebonnet Cafe and ignored several tables of people looking at him. A girl in the back booth caught his eye.
Ginny Moreno. She sat with her chin up, her face scarlet, an uneaten hamburger in front of her. People whispered about her, a bit too loudly, throughout the restaurant.
“She knew and just wanted the money,” one elderly lady spat.
“Young people. Just tramps,” her friend agreed.
The poor girl had the look of a deer about to be hit by a speeding Ford, frozen in place. Without a hint of a thought, he made a beeline for her booth and slid in across from her.
She jerked her head, and her eyes widened. “Um.”
He smiled. “I can’t stand to see a lady eat alone.”
Her gaze instantly dropped to the uneaten food. “I’m not a lady. Are you making fun of me?”
He reached across the table and lifted her chin. “You’re a lady, you’re about to be a mom, and you’re the bravest damn person in this place.” How much courage had it taken for her, a young single mom who’d made a mistake, to even appear in public, much less try to get dinner.
She blinked several times. “Oh.”
“Besides. Those of us wearing scarlet letters on our chests should stick together.”
A smile tickled her pink lips. “Oh yeah. I’d heard about you and Hannah Grossman, but I’d forgotten already.”
He gave an exaggerated sigh. “I wish everyone would forget.”
“Amen to that, buddy.” She relaxed into the booth. “What happened to your face?”
“My brother has a wicked right cross.” He waved to the waitress, a teenager he didn’t recognize, who hustled over. “I’ll have what the lady is having.”
The girl popped purple gum, her eyes lighting up. “You got it.”
Ginny waited until the waitress was out of earshot. “You just gave her gossip for the whole day. The two of us having dinner together—it’ll be a miracle lightning doesn’t strike the cafe.”
“Would that be so bad?” He snagged one of her fries. “Eat up, pregnant lady. I think babies need food.”
She eyed him for a moment and then nodded, reaching for the burger.
He smiled and ignored how badly that hurt his lip. While he didn’t really know Ginny Moreno well, he had always liked her older sister, and he figured everyone made mistakes. Plus, he didn’t like how the damn gossips were making her feel. That had to be bad for a baby, right? “I have to ask, what made you brave the cafe by yourself today?”
She gave a half-shrug, chewing thoughtfully. “I thought that the more people see me out and about, the more they’ll get used to me being a single mom, and the easier they’ll accept the baby when it’s born. I won’t let anybody be mean to my baby.”
God, she sounded young. “If they are, call me. I’m a bad seed, you know.” He couldn’t help but grin.
She ate some of her fries. “I’ve been called worse.”
The waitress brought him a basket with his burger and fries, cataloging them both and then flouncing away.
Ginny sighed. “I get it, you know?”
Tucker dug into his burger and lifted his eyebrows.
She continued. “About Hannah Grossman. I get how you can love somebody and make mistakes and want nothing more than to just be with them.” She set down a French fry and sighed.
He gestured for her to keep eating. Did she mean with the senator? Hopefully not. “Who?” he asked, already guessing the answer.
She blushed. “Logan Murphy. We were dating, and it was good, but now he won’t forgive me for lying. I don’t blame him, either.”
Yeah, his cousin was a war hero with a code of honor miles long. “Maybe he just needs time to figure things out, you know?” Hell, it was the same thing Tucker was hoping for Tate. Time and forgiveness.
“I know,” she whispered. Then she smiled and Tucker could see what Logan saw in her. “It was really nice of you to sit with me for dinner.” She patted her protruding belly. “I guess I should say you sat with us. You’re a nice guy, Tucker Johnson.”
He started laughing. He really couldn’t help it. “You are the only, and I mean only, person in town who thinks that right now.”
She snorted.
“Now finish that burger,” he said gently.
She nodded and dug in again.
They ate in companionable silence, and finally, Tucker insisted on paying the check.
“We should split it,” Ginny argued.
He shook his head. “I may be a total jerk, but I don’t let a lady buy me dinner.” There. He got another smile out of her. Just then, a conversation wafted his way, and he paused.
“Tate and his political career,” came a whisper from the booth right behind him. Tucker stiffened and half-turned his head to listen.
“Oh, I know. His brother made him look like an absolute fool. This town won’t elect a moron,” said another voice, this one high-pitched and female. “So sad. I was going to vote for Tate before this happened, too. Thought the guy had a brain, but obviously not.”
Shit. Tucker hadn’t even considered Tate’s political career.
The old lady cleared her throat. “Then Tate gets in a fistfight in the center of town. We can’t have a mayor who goes around hitting people.”
Tucker winced and focused back o
n Ginny.
She grimaced, no doubt having heard every word. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“Me too.” His mind spun.
“And then, get this. Tate apparently hired Joanne Alvarez to work on his campaign. Can you believe it? It’s like he wants to lose,” the old biddy continued.
Tucker shut his eyes. His brother was a decent guy, giving poor Joanne a job. Sure, that might’ve hurt his campaign a little, but being cuckolded by his own brother would probably harm it a lot more.
Ginny reached across the table and patted his hand. “I think in politics that these kind of things blow over? Especially for the men. Not so much for the women.”
Tucker opened his eyes and noted a weary wisdom in hers. Damn, but she’d had to grow up and fast.
He smiled just as Ginny stiffened and sat up straighter, yanking her hand free.
Tucker frowned and turned to see Logan at the cash register paying for a to go box, indecision playing across his rugged face. The look he gave Ginny could only be described as glacial. It heated, fiery hot, when it transferred to Tucker.
Tucker instinctively began to get up from the booth.
“No.” Ginny grabbed his wrist. “There’s nothing to explain. We’re both finished with explaining ourselves.”
Logan’s gaze dropped to her hold, and he seemed to vibrate in place. Then, without a word, he turned on his boot and strode out of the cafe.
Ginny deflated.
Tucker faced her, noting her pallor. “Hey. Not for nothin’, but no way would he look like that if he didn’t care about you. A lot.”
“I know,” she whispered, retrieving her purse from the corner of the booth. “But he’s never going to trust me again, and you know, I can’t blame the guy.” Her voice softened, the tenor filled with pain, scooting to the edge of the booth. “Thank you for the meal Tucker.”
He let her go.
Slapping a generous tip on the table, he kept his bruised and aching head held high as he strolled by the full tables and ventured outside. Thunder rolled in the distance, and a breeze slapped him in the face. He hunched into his jacket as he turned the corner to find his truck.
Against the Wind, Season 2, Episode 1 (Rising Storm) Page 3
