McKettricks of Texas: Austin

by Linda Lael Miller

  Whose dog was he, anyhow?

  Paige’s apparently. She led the way, like some piper in a fairy tale, with Shep padding right along in her wake, and that was how the three of them ended up in the laundry room, off the kitchen.

  Paige knew her way around—she rustled up some old towels and the special mutt shampoo Julie kept around for Harry—and started the water running in one of the big sinks. She spooled out the hand-sprayer and pressed the squirter with a practiced thumb, testing the temperature against the underside of her left wrist.

  The sight, ordinary as it was, did something peculiar to Austin.

  “Well,” Paige said, dropping her gaze to the dog and then letting it fly back to Austin’s face, “don’t just stand there. Hoist Shep up into the sink so I can wash him.” She smiled at Shep. “You’re going to feel so much better, once you’ve had your bath,” she assured the critter.

  Austin had his pride. He wasn’t about to tell this woman that he’d blown out his back and couldn’t risk lifting one skinny dog off the floor because he might wind up in traction or something.

  He leaned down and carefully looped his arms under Shep’s belly. Set him gently in the laundry sink.

  Paige introduced Shep to the sprayer with a few little blasts of warm water, and gave him time to sort out how he felt about the experience.

  Austin, meanwhile, was just about to congratulate himself on getting away with lifting the dog when he felt a stabbing ache in the same part of his back as when he’d had to be half carried out of Pinky’s bar last month. He drew in a sharp breath and grasped the edge of the long counter, where the housekeeper, Esperanza, usually folded sheets and towels.

  Steady, he thought. Wait it out.

  Paige, preoccupied with sluicing down the dog and apparently oblivious to the way the water was soaking the front of her skimpy T-shirt, paid Austin no attention at all. And that was fine by him, mostly.

  The spasm in Austin’s back intensified, a giant charley horse that he couldn’t walk off like one in his calf or the arch of his foot. He bit down hard on his lower lip and shut his eyes.

  “Austin?” Paige’s voice had changed. It was soft, worried-sounding. “Is something wrong? You’re sort of pale and—”

  Austin shook his head. The spasm was beginning to subside, though it still hurt like holy-be-Jesus, but talking was beyond him.

  He wouldn’t risk meeting her gaze. Back when they were just kids and hot and heavy into dating, Paige had shown a disturbing ability to read his mind—not to mention his soul—through his eyes.

  Not that she’d been infallible in that regard.

  Or maybe, when it really counted, she’d been too mad to look long enough, hard enough.

  “I’m—fine,” he finally said. The pain was letting up.

  Paige reached for the dog shampoo, squeezed a glistening trail of it down Shep’s sodden back and began to suds him up.

  “Excuse me,” she said matter-of-factly, “but you don’t look fine.”

  Poor Shep looked up at him, all bedraggled and wet, but there was a patient expression in his eyes, a willingness to endure, that tightened Austin’s throat to the point where he couldn’t make a sound.

  Paige, a head shorter than he was, bent her knees and turned to peer up into his face. “Are you sick?”

  He shook his head again, helpless to do more than that.

  “Austin,” she said firmly, “I am a nurse. I know a person in pain when I see one.”

  When he opened his mouth to answer, his back spasmed again. He tightened his hold on the counter’s edge, riding it out.

  Paige simply waited, not fussing, not pressing for an answer. In fact, she rinsed the dog, soaped him up again, sprayed him down a second time.

  Shep, who withstood all this without complaint, turned out to be buff colored, with a saddlelike splotch of reddish brown running down the center of his back.

  Paige congratulated the critter on his good looks and toweled him vigorously before lifting him out of the laundry sink and setting him on the floor.

  Austin, by that time, could breathe again, but that was about all.

  Paige turned to him, hands on her hips, T-shirt clinging in intriguing places from the inevitable splashing.

  Austin dragged his gaze, by force, from her perfect breasts to her face, though not quickly enough. Paige’s brown eyes were snapping with temper.

  Or was it concern?

  “Some things never change,” she said.

  Austin sighed. He let go of the counter, relieved that the kink in his lower back had smoothed out. “What the hell do you mean by that?” he asked. Then, without waiting for an answer, he rushed on, fool that he was. “Okay, so I checked out your chest. I’m sorry you saw that.”

  Her mouth twitched. “You’re sorry I caught you at it, you mean?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted, unwilling to elaborate until he knew which way the mood wind was blowing. She laughed.

  He’d forgotten what the sound of Paige Remington’s laughter did to him, how it made him feel dizzy inside, as though he’d been blindfolded, turned around half a dozen times and then had the floor yanked out from under him.

  Paige’s expression sobered, though the ghost of a grin flicked at one corner of her mouth and danced like a faint flame in her eyes. “What I meant,” she informed him, “when I said some things never change, was that you’re still too cussed and proud to let on when you need help.”

  “I don’t need help,” Austin reasoned, wondering why it was so important to him to make that absolutely clear.

  Shep broke loose with a good shaking then, flinging moisture over both of them.

  “I’m not going to argue with you, Austin McKettrick,” Paige said.

  He snorted at the irony of that statement.

  “Something is wrong,” she said, ignoring his reaction. She headed back into the kitchen, and Shep followed at a sprightly pace, toenails clicking on the plank floor. “If you won’t tell me what it is, I can find out from Garrett or Tate.”

  Austin waited until he was sure he could walk without any obvious hitches before stepping away from the counter. Paige was standing at the kitchen sink, washing her hands.

  She wouldn’t look at him.

  “Paige.”

  Still, she kept her eyes averted, and he knew from the stubborn angle of her chin that she wasn’t going to let this go. She meant to ask one or both of his brothers what was going on with him, and they’d tell her, putting their own spin on the story.

  Dammit, it was his story to tell and, besides, he didn’t want any secondhand versions making the rounds. “My back goes out sometimes,” he said very quietly. “That’s all.”

  Paige turned to face him. “‘That’s all’? Why didn’t you say that a few minutes ago, when I asked you to lift Shep into the sink?”

  Austin tugged at an imaginary hat brim and answered, “Because I’m Texas born and bred, ma’am, and therefore averse to letting a lady do my lifting.”

  She just stood there for several long moments, looking at him as if she were doing arithmetic in her head and none of the sums were coming out right.

  Finally, she spoke.

  “You idiot,” she said with some affection.

  Austin opened his mouth, closed it again, entirely at a loss.

  She’d just insulted him, hadn’t she? And yet her tone…well, it made him feel all wrapped up in something warm.

  Paige, oblivious to the strange effect she was having on him, checked her watch. “I’ve got to pick Calvin up,” she said, addressing no one in particular. “Want to come along for the ride?”

  Did he ever.

  She’s offering to let you ride in her car, fool. That’s all.

  He shoved a hand through his hair. Did she really want his company, he wondered, or was she just afraid to leave the invalid cowboy alone in the house?

  Hard to tell, and when it came right down to it, he didn’t care.

  “Sure,” he said. “I guess.” />
  Paige rolled her marvelous eyes. “Well, that was ambivalent,” she replied. “Just let me change out of this wet T-shirt, and we’ll go.”

  “Do you have to?”

  Her gaze narrowed and her hands went back to her hips, but she was trying too hard not to grin to be angry. “Have to what?”

  Austin waggled his eyebrows. “Change out of the wet T-shirt?”

  She widened her eyes at him, then turned and hurried off in the direction of the guest apartment.

  It was all he could do not to tag along with her.

  His mouth quirked. It wasn’t as if she’d let him watch her change her shirt.

  Damn the luck.

  EVERY NERVE IN HER BODY was on red alert, and her heart seemed to skip every other beat.

  It was her own fault.

  What had she been thinking, asking Austin, of all people, if he’d like to ride to town with her?

  Now here he was, big as life and busting with testosterone, sitting in her perfectly ordinary subcompact car, sliding the passenger seat back as far as it would go. Shep, still damp from his bath and smelling pleasantly of freshly shampooed dog, sat directly behind him.

  Austin was taking up more than his fair share of room, she knew that much. If she weren’t careful, their shoulders would touch.

  All business, Paige took her sunglasses from the holder above her rearview mirror and put them on. Then she fastened her seat belt, shifted into Reverse and almost backed into the garage door.

  Austin chuckled, reached up to push the button on the remote clasped to one of the visors.

  The garage door rolled up behind them.

  “I would have remembered,” Paige said.

  “Of course you would have,” Austin agreed lightly.

  Paige knew if she looked at him, she’d catch him grinning. Her cheeks ached with heat, and she was grateful for her sunglasses.

  “I suppose you think you should drive,” she huffed, taking great care as she backed out into the driveway.

  Austin spread his hands. “Did I say that?” he asked.

  Paige sighed. “No.”

  She managed to drive out of the garage without crashing into anything and pointed the car toward the massive iron gates standing open at the bottom of the driveway.

  “Why are you so rattled?” Austin wanted to know.

  Paige braked for the turn onto the main road. The coast was clear in both directions, but she came to a crawling stop anyhow.

  “I am not rattled.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “I am not.” She paused, sucked in a righteous breath. “Don’t flatter yourself, Austin. Not every woman is susceptible to your many charms, you know.”

  He laughed. “I didn’t say that, either.”

  Paige sniffed, indignant. “Some things,” she replied, “go without saying.”

  Austin cocked an eyebrow at her as she pointed the car toward town. “No matter what I say,” he ventured, “you’re going to disagree. Right?”

  “Right,” Paige said.

  That time they both laughed.

  Austin folded his arms, closed his eyes, tilted his head back, the very picture of a contented cowboy. Although Paige hated to give this particular man credit for anything, she had to admit, at least to herself, that he still had the power to short-circuit her wiring.

  He was so damnably at home in his own skin.

  It would have bothered some men, riding shotgun instead of taking the wheel, but not Austin. Whatever he might have questioned in his lifetime, it hadn’t been his masculinity, Paige was sure of that.

  Tate and Garrett were the same way. Maybe, she concluded, it was a McKettrick thing.

  And why shouldn’t they be confident, all three of them? They had it all—good looks, money, a ranch that was large even by Texas standards, a name that commanded respect.

  Heat climbed Paige’s neck, her throat tightened and her heart started racing again.

  Of course that was when he hit her with the question, when she was least prepared to respond to it with any kind of dignity.

  “How’ve you been, Paige?”

  The backs of her eyes scalded with tears she’d have died before shedding. She swallowed hard.

  How’ve you been, Paige? Since I broke your heart, I mean. Since you chased me down Main Street on a stolen golf cart. How’ve you been, Paige old buddy, old pal?

  “Fine,” she said, surprised and relieved by how calm she sounded. “I’ve been—just fine. Busy. How about you?”

  There. The ball was in his court.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Austin had turned his head in her direction, and he was watching her.

  “Has it really been ten years?”

  “It has,” Paige said very quietly. A month after their breakup, Austin’s parents had been killed in that terrible accident. She’d wanted so much to go to him, offer her condolences, ask if there was anything she could do to help.

  Alas, he wasn’t the only one with too much pride.

  “I went to the funeral,” she said. A joint service had been held for Jim and Sally McKettrick, and there had been so many mourners, they couldn’t all fit into the church. People had stood in the yard and on the sidewalk and even in the street, just to be there.

  He didn’t ask which funeral, though they often turned up at the same ones, both of them raised in or near Blue River as they had been.

  “I know,” Austin said very quietly. “I saw you.”

  Austin had attended Paige’s father’s services, too, along with both his brothers. He hadn’t spoken to her then, but it had helped a little, just knowing he was nearby, that he’d cared enough to put in an appearance. She’d been too distracted by grief, that one day, to smart over the loss of her first love.

  There had been plenty of other days to cry over Austin McKettrick, and many a dark night as well.

  They passed the oil wells, long since capped, though there was still plenty of black gold under the Silver Spur, according to the experts. They drove by cattle grazing on good McKettrick grass, and there was so much Paige wanted to say.

  In the end, though, she either had too much good sense—or too little courage—to put any of her emotions into words.

  CHAPTER TWO

  CALVIN REMINGTON, FIVE YEARS OLD as of a very recent birthday, was one of Austin’s all-time favorite people.

  Going by the broad smile on the little boy’s face as he ran toward Paige’s car, the feeling was mutual. His aunt walked a few feet behind him, looking bemused, while Austin waited in the passenger seat, having buzzed down the window.

  “Hey, buddy!” he called.

  Calvin’s horn-rimmed glasses were a little askew, and his light blond hair stuck out in all directions. His jacket was unzipped and he was waving a paper over his head.

  “My whole kindergarten class gets to go to Six Flags!” he shouted to Austin. “Because we’ve been really, really good!”

  Austin chuckled. His gaze accidentally connected with Paige’s, and electricity arched between them, ending up as a hard ache that settled into his groin like a weight.

  “Whose dog is that?” Calvin demanded, breathless with excitement and crossing the yard between the community center and the parking lot at a dead run. “Is that your dog, Austin? Is it?”

  “That is my dog,” Austin confirmed. “His name is Shep.”

  Calvin opened the car door and scrambled into the booster seat in the back. “Hello, Shep,” he said.

  Paige leaned over to make sure her nephew was properly buckled in.

  She looked after the boy with the same easy competence she’d shown bathing Shep, back in the ranch-house laundry room.

  For some reason, realizing that cinched Austin’s throat into a painful knot.

  “Give Shep some space, now,” Paige told the child. “He’s still getting used to belonging to somebody, and you don’t want to scare him.”

  Calvin agreed with a nod and changed the subject. “Will you be a
chaperone when we go to Six Flags, Aunt Paige?” he asked. “I bet Mom would do it, but she’s got to teach school all day and help the drama club put on the musical and get ready to get married and stuff.”

  Paige glanced at Austin, over the seat.

  Austin indulged in a wink.

  Paige blushed a little, shut Calvin’s door, got into the front seat, snapped on her seat belt and started the engine. All the while, she was careful not to look at Austin again.

  “Will you, Aunt Paige?” Calvin persisted.

  “Depends,” Paige said mildly, though there was a faint tremor in her tone. “When’s the big day?”

  “It’s the Wednesday before Thanksgiving,” the boy answered eagerly. “My teacher said she’d like to know what lame-brain scheduled a field trip for the day before a big holiday like that. She likes to bake pumpkin pies that day, but now she’ll probably get a pounding headache and have to spend the whole evening with her feet up and a cold cloth on her head.”

  Austin grinned. “Your teacher said all that?”

  Calvin nodded vigorously. “She wasn’t talking to the class, though,” he clarified. “It was during recess, and I went inside to the bathroom, and when I came back, I heard her talking to Mrs. Jenson, the playground monitor.”

  “Ah, I see,” Austin said very seriously as Paige started the car and backed carefully out of her parking space. There were other kids leaving the premises with their mothers or fathers, and casual waves were exchanged.

  “I think this dog is pretty friendly,” Calvin remarked. “Can I pet him? Please?”

  “Yes,” Paige answered, hitting every possible pothole as she guided the compact out onto the highway. “But no sudden moves.”

  They rolled along in companionable silence for a while, but when it came time to turn right and head back out to the Silver Spur, Paige turned left instead.

  Austin didn’t comment, but Paige explained anyhow.

  Women. They were always ready to give a man more information than he needed.

  “Calvin likes to stop by Blue River High and see his mom for a few minutes before going home,” she said.

  Home. Austin liked the sound of the word, coming from Paige. He liked that she meant the ranch when she said it—his ranch.