“We’ll handle them however you want, but Pablo won’t mind feeding them for you. Will the pup try to follow you?”
“He might try to head back to Austin to find Laken, but Monroe will ride herd on him.”
“Will you clear it with Pablo, Mackey?” Rissa tucked a hand through Michael’s arm and started walking to the house. “Laken, huh? Who is she? I sense a story here, and I get first dibs. Tell me everything. Don’t miss a detail. Penny and Scarlett will have my head if I don’t get it all.”
Mackey snorted. “Watch out, dude. Might as well go ahead and spill. She won’t hesitate to call for reinforcements, and our women…” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “Trust me, it’s easier to just get in line.”
Rissa rolled her eyes. “The day that Wild Mackey Boy falls in line, look for the sun to rise in the west.”
Mackey grabbed her around the waist and delivered a smacking kiss. Every line of their bodies spoke of their love.
Michael glanced away.
And tried not to miss his own stubborn woman.
Laken Foster strode along the downtown Austin sidewalk, Stella McCartney gym bag on her shoulder, stilettos clicking on the concrete. She felt good. Strong. She’d kicked butt in a meeting with a difficult opposing attorney, she’d snagged a new and highly promising tech client. She’d run this morning, she would take a little break for this gym time, then she’d go back and put in a few hours after the phones went silent for the day.
She would not go home.
Or if she did, she’d hit the club downstairs for a few hours. Dance off a few more calories from her lunch meeting.
Because no one would be there to greet her. No eager blond fur ball chewing on her beloved Manolos or decimating her sofa.
And no hot guy veterinarian with soulful brown eyes, whose shoulders were broad, his arms welcoming, his smile the pot of gold at the end of her day.
Because she’d driven him away.
“Laken,” greeted a familiar voice.
She looked up to see one of the senior partners in her law firm. “Edward, hello.” Of all the men on the management committee, she liked Edward the best, Edward, not Ed. Never Ed. She noted his own gym bag. “You’re ahead of me.”
He nodded. “Because you’re still working junior partner hours. Old guys get to slack off.”
She grinned. “The day you slack off, I’ll be looking for the sun to rise in the west.”
“Good move on the Barrett case, Laken. I hear you pulled off a miracle when everyone had given up on any agreement.”
Pleasure suffused her. “It only required a little talking. Keeping the lines of communication open.”
“Given that they were at armed warfare when you got the case, that’s impressive. You’re impressive, Laken. It’s a star in my crown that I brought you into the firm.”
Laken hadn’t blushed in a long time, but she felt her cheeks warm now. “Thank you. I love my work. I’m grateful to be here.”
“You’ll be chairing the management committee one day.” A quick grin. “I’ll come by after you’ve kicked me to the curb and guilt you into a cup of coffee.”
“I owe you a lifetime of steak dinners at a minimum.”
“You’ve earned your own way. I only opened the door for you.” He glanced at his watch. “Well, Beverly is expecting me home, so I’d better run.”
“Of course. Give her my best.”
“She deserves the best. She’s put up with a lot as I made my way up. I spent a lot of evenings working late while she did far too much raising the kids alone.”
That had been her mother’s lot, one Laken would never share. Sally Foster had been summa cum laude at USC, then she’d fallen for Laken’s father and given up her life and all her dreams to focus on his.
He had rewarded her by leaving her for a younger woman when Laken was thirteen.
“I’m sure she didn’t mind,” Laken murmured politely, then watched him go. Not true. So not true. That was never going to be her fate. She’d blown one impulsive marriage when she was nineteen and pregnant. Scotty had been sweet and charming and so…normal. His family was Mom and Pop and apple pie, and it had seemed like nirvana after years of growing up in a household full of bitterness and fury and accusations. She’d escaped as soon as she could and raced right into a life she could never have lived. When she lost the baby, it had been the confirmation.
Enough of the past. She yanked open the gym door and waved her key tag at the sensor, then strode to the back.
If only her friend Ava were here, but Ava was on a book tour. There were other members of their Book Babes reading group, but she wasn’t as close to any of them, and all were juggling more pressing problems anyway.
Just as well, really. Ava was far too insightful. She already sensed too much about Laken’s attraction to Michael. Happily married to her core, Ava had no clue how wrong marriage could go. She and Tom would be sickening to watch if they weren’t so reassuring.
And Ava hadn’t sold her soul in service of Tom’s career. Tom respected Ava’s talent and did everything he could to encourage her.
Michael might do that, an insidious voice whispered.
But he might not. Yes, he was good and solid and kind and sweet…
And Laken could walk all over him—no, that was wrong, she knew it was. He was good. He was kind.
He was stubborn as an ox. Somehow he’d maneuvered her into opening her life to him. He’d brought her a dog, damn the man. Then he’d taken the adorable little miscreant with him when he left.
“Hey, babe,” greeted Milos, the gorgeous younger man who had his eye on Ava.
“Ava’s out of town. She’s not for you, anyway.” Wow, could she growl a little deeper?
“Bad day?” His killer smile matched his killer eight-pack. “We could go somewhere after.”
How much time had she spent with losers like him? How many hard bodies had pressed up against hers? How many men had she led around by the balls?
Her eyes filled suddenly. Only Michael had resisted her. Had seen through her.
She missed him like the breath in her body, the blood now flowing sluggishly through her veins. She wanted to go after him, but then what? He wanted land and animals, not her loft above a nightclub or her life in the midst of the buzz.
And if they had children, he would have to be the one raising them, while she would be the one working the long nights to get ahead. She couldn’t consider doing otherwise—she’d fought too hard for the ground she’d gained, the control she’d wrested from life.
He’d be an amazing dad, but she hadn’t the first clue how to be a mother a child deserved.
“What do you say, babe?”
When she pictured taking this gorgeous guy home to wreck the bed as she had any number of times with any number of gorgeous men…
She didn’t want him. She wanted teasing brown eyes and shaggy hair that had never seen a hair product, strong hands that cradled puppies and sent her soaring.
But she couldn’t have Michael. For his own sake, as well as hers.
“Thank you, but no.” She headed across the gym for the elliptical.
Alone was better.
Alone was awful.
She couldn’t seem to sleep anymore, not without Michael and his three-legged dog and the puppy who couldn’t be trusted outside his crate but whom she desperately wanted to cuddle at night in her lonely bed.
But she’d sent all of them away.
Alone sucked.
But alone was…how it had to be.
By the time Ian had finished up his evening chores and driven into town with his dad, they were later than he’d intended, and Scarlett would be in the middle of the dinner rush.
He wanted to grab hold and steal her away, go make love with her and cuddle and talk out all he was feeling. Instead, he had to walk inside and face the town and all who would have heard.
As they entered the cafe, which was bursting at the seams, it was clear that pretty much every
one had learned about his surprise. He cast an automatic glance at the pass-through, searching for the top of Scarlett’s head. She was so small that she couldn’t see over it without a stool, and neither could Ruby.
He should fix that. Why hadn’t he? Because he kept assuming that at some point Scarlett would slow down, turn things over to others like Henry.
Yeah, right. His New York girl had acclimated to Sweetgrass in some ways, but she was hardwired to work full speed.
“Hey, QB,” hailed Mackey as he strolled up, studying his friend. “You okay?” He glanced at Gordon. “Hi, Mr. McLaren. How’s it going?”
“I’m good, son.” Gordon squeezed his shoulder. “I’m not the one fixing to go postal on everybody.” He was smiling, but his look at Ian held concern.
Ian exhaled. “He’s here, don’t tell me.”
“Listen, I’m sorry I bollixed things up today, and yeah, we brought him here to eat. He worked hard to help that colt, Ian, and you know how difficult Blaze can be. He’s good, really good, as a vet, and he’s a solid guy. He offered to leave town, but how could we send him off with no food and no place to stay when he’s as dog-tired as the rest of us?”
“You couldn’t,” Gordon responded when Ian didn’t.
Ian was too busy studying the man in question, across the room smiling as Jackson told a story. As if he sensed Ian’s presence, he looked up and came to his feet, nodded as though resolving something.
He started toward them.
“Well, hell,” Ian grumbled.
“Ian…” Mackey spoke low. “I’ll take him out of here if you want.”
Ian cast his friend a rueful smile. “Nope. But thanks.”
Michael stopped before them and got straight to the point. “It’s your town. Do you want me to go?” The brown eyes so like his own were somber but not cowed.
“It’s a free country.” He looked over. “Dad, this is Michael…”
“Cavanaugh, Mr. McLaren.” Michael stuck out a hand.
“Gordon McLaren. Got you a bit of a hornet’s nest here,” he observed with his usual frankness. “Welcome to Sweetgrass, in case no one said that yet.” He took Michael’s hand and shook it firmly.
“I’m real sorry, Mr. McLaren. I don’t mean to make things harder on you or Ian, either. I thought I’d slip into town, just find out about him and leave again, no one the wiser. Then I could plan my approach.”
Gordon chuckled and slapped Ian’s back. “More than just brown eyes and a dimple in common with your brother, son.”
He seemed so damn calm about it all. Ian figured he should follow his dad’s example. “Welcome to Sweetgrass,” he muttered. “I need to say hi to Scarlett.” He strode past them. Not calm, not by a damn sight.
But he hadn’t clocked the guy, and that had to count for something.
Michael stared after the man who so obviously didn’t want Michael in his life.
“How’s your mother?” asked Gordon.
Michael whipped his gaze to the man his mother had abandoned. His work with animals had taught him to trust his instincts on a level beneath words. This man was a good man, as everyone had said. Solid and steady. Calm.
And unafraid to get to the heart of the matter.
“She’s—” He huffed out a breath. “That’s not easy to answer. She’s distraught that I won’t leave the past alone. She’s hurt that I’m furious with her—but how can I be anything else? I wanted a brother my whole life. I thought she and I were close, yet she does this? She lies not only to me but my dad?” He glanced unseeing into the distance. “I don’t understand any of it.”
“I’d wondered if she was alive,” Gordon mused. His own features held no rancor.
Michael didn’t get that. But he didn’t know this man, no matter how instinct said he could trust Gordon McLaren. The least he could do, though, was answer his questions. “She’s very much alive. She lives in Chicago. My dad is—was—a neurosurgeon. He’s—was—nearly twenty years older than her.”
“She loved him?” Gordon shook his head. “Forget it—none of my business.”
Had his mother loved his father? Not with the wild, tumbling insanity that Laken incited in him. No one could make him angrier or more riveted.
“I…they were…close, I guess. He gave her a good life, they traveled and had an active social calendar. My mother is an accomplished hostess.”
“She was the most beautiful thing I ever laid eyes on,” Gordon said.
“She said you met in San Francisco when you were in the military, but—”
Gordon’s mouth quirked. “How on earth did an old cowboy and a beautiful socialite cross paths, you mean? A pure miracle, for sure. I was in the Navy, and I had shore leave in San Francisco. A kid stole her purse, and I helped her out.”
Michael could picture it, he thought.
“She stole my breath. That never changed.”
So what went wrong? Michael wondered. “Did she live here with you?”
“Sure did. For six years.” A rueful grin. “She never liked it. But she tried. You need to know that, son. She did try her heart out to like it. She knew I’d never live anywhere else.”
Michael tried to picture his mother in Sweetgrass, on a ranch like the one where he’d spent the day. Or anywhere in this town, for that matter.
He couldn’t. “The woman I know would never have set foot in this town—sorry, sir. No offense.”
“None taken. Don’t be too hard on her. I bear the lion’s share of the blame. I pretty much forced her into leaving, if only by refusing to listen. I could not see how she was dying here, not until it was too late. The miscarriage was the last straw. It…broke her.”
Miscarriage? He and Ian had had another sibling who didn’t survive? He forced himself not to ask. “I don’t know what to say. She was the best mother a boy could want—how could she leave Ian?”
“Pray God you never face such a choice. It about broke all of us.” A muscle worked in Gordon’s jaw. “But I can see now that she truly would not have survived if she’d stayed. I wouldn’t compromise. She wanted to share Ian, but she was going back to San Francisco, and he was too young to be traveling back and forth so far. And I believed a clean break would heal quicker.” He shook his head and glanced toward his son. “Ian has been hurt in ways you can’t know, Michael. He wouldn’t thank me for saying that, but it’s true. He has her same wanderlust, every bit as much as he has deep roots here, but he never gave into them because of me. I wronged that boy as much as his mama, and none of it out of spite.”
Would he ever understand this complicated situation fully? Michael didn’t know—but he wanted to try. “What will happen to him if I hang around some? In the area, at least? I don’t want to be making things worse for him.”
“Ian has his brothers here already—Jackson and Mackey and one who’s passed now named David.” Gordon met his gaze straight on. “Don’t know as he feels the need for another brother.”
Michael’s heart sank. “I understand.”
“But any man can use a good friend. Might be you’d do better to give that a try first.” Gordon’s eyes were solemn but kind.
“What do I do about my mother?” This man seemed so much wiser than Michael thought he might ever be.
Gordon glanced across at his son, who had bent to give Scarlett a kiss. “Ian’s a deep thinker and not a man of impulse. Even when he and the rest of the Four Horseman were wreaking the worst of their mischief around here, he was the voice of reason, more often than not. Right now he’s got a lot on his plate, and it should be a time of peace and joy, with a new baby coming. He’s got so much on his shoulders, does my Ian, and he’s strong enough to carry it all.” Gordon pinned him again. “But opening old wounds might be a bit more than he needs right now. He’s a horseman to the bone—we raise cattle, but that was my interest, not his. You know animals—Mackey says you did a hell of a job with one of their horses. You know how some horses just take a lot of patience, and you do better to focus o
n something else and let them come to you?”
“Yes, sir. Same with all kinds of animals.” He found a quick grin. “So you’re saying I need to whisper my brother?”
Humor flared in the older man’s eyes. “He wouldn’t like the comparison, but he’d understand it.”
Michael thought a minute. “Rissa and Mackey told me about a clinic in Fredericksburg that’s closed down. I’ve been a traveling vet, but I have reason to want to stay in this part of Texas now—had one even before I came to Sweetgrass,” he hastily amended.
“Involve a woman, by any chance?”
Michael’s mouth twisted. “She doesn’t see how it can work. Shoves me away at every opportunity—when she’s not kissing my socks off.”
Gordon chuckled. “Just take a page from my experience, son. Be honest with her but be honest with yourself, too. The truth might not be what you want to hear, but that doesn’t change its power.”
“Laken is stronger than my mother.”
“Don’t be too sure of that. Your mother endured this place for six years, and she made them good ones as long as she could. The woman’s got grit.”
Michael’s phone rang. He started to ignore it.
“Go ahead, son. I got a chicken-fried calling my name. I’m gonna grab a seat. You’re welcome to join us.”
Michael frowned at his phone. Wyatt Preston? His wife was one of Laken’s closest friends, but—
Laken. Something had happened to Laken. “Excuse me, sir.” He punched the phone and headed outside where he could hear. “Wyatt? Is Laken okay?”
“She’s not hurt,” Wyatt answered. “But everybody’s pretty shaken. Tom Sinclair has been shot, and they’re not sure he’s going to make it.”
“Shot?” Michael echoed. “Who? How?”
“You know his wife’s friend Luisa? Her ex shot him, trying to take away their boy. Anyway, since Tom’s wife Ava and Laken are so close, Laken’s with her. I just thought you might want to know.”
“Which hospital? I’ll be there as soon as I can. Will you let me know if—” The worst happens, he didn’t want to say. He didn’t know Ava, but Laken thought the world of her, as did Wyatt’s wife Ellie, another of Laken’s book club buddies.
Texas Hope: Sweetgrass Springs Stories (Texas Heroes Book 16) Page 8
