by Mari Manning
“You like me.”
She nodded.
“Why the hell would you like a son of a bitch like me?”
Her pulse began to race. “You’re scaring me.”
“Answer the damn question.”
Why did she like him? “You’re cute and—and, uh, reliable.”
He threw back his head and laughed. Had she said something funny? “You’re looking for cute? And, uh, what was the other thing? Reliable?”
She hung her head. “I guess.”
“Sounds like you need to get yourself a dog.”
She felt like the whole world was staring at her. Her body burned with humiliation. She should have said everything different so he’d understand how happy she could make him. How had this gone so wrong? He was supposed to take her in his arms and tell her how much she meant to him. Instead he was laughing at her. “Please give me a chance. I can make you happy. I know I can. I’m a—a great cook, and I’ll take care of you. You’ll never be lonely again. Please.”
He pulled off his Stetson and ruffled his black curls. He was so, so, so cute, she wanted to die. “Shit,” he said.
“W-what does that mean?”
“Do what I said. Get yourself a pet and leave me the hell alone.”
She’d been so sure he loved her. She’d told Miss Kirby and Manny and Momma, and they’d tried to tell her different. But she’d been so sure. They’d be laughing at her now. Mr. Maguire most of all.
A great gulping sob erupted from her chest. She tore out of the barn, barreling into a solid male body smelling of hay and sweat. Manny.
His brows knitted. “What happened, Brit? Why are you crying?”
She choked out the story between sobs. “You were right. All of you. He hates me!”
He pulled her against his chest. “He said that?”
“Basically.” She laid her head on his shoulder. This was nice.
He disengaged himself from her. “You stay here.”
“Where are you going?”
“Boss or not, he had no right to talk to you that way.”
What had she done? “Wait, Manny. I didn’t mean it that way.”
But Manny was already barreling into the barn, head down, fists raised. She ran after him. Mr. Maguire was hanging up tools, but when Manny approached he turned. Manny reared back and threw a punch at Mr. Maguire, catching him in the eye.
Brittany’s tears stopped. She swiped at her nose. No one had ever defended her…except in her dreams. A real guy had punched someone because of her.
Mr. Maguire staggered back. “Why the hell did you do that?”
Manny was shaking his wrist, but he didn’t act scared. “You had no right to disrespect Brittany. She’s a great person.”
“I told her to buy a dog.”
“And you hate her,” Manny said. “Don’t forget that.”
Mr. Maguire’s eyes—one of which was looking puffy and bruised—slid to Brittany. She hadn’t meant it literally. It was just how she felt.
Mr. Maguire nodded at her. “My apologies, Miss Brittany.”
Mr. Maguire apologizing to her? Pigs were gonna fly next.
Manny seemed satisfied. “Okay, then. Let’s go, Brit.” Still shaking his wrist, he walked out of the barn. Brittany grabbed his good arm and hung on.
“You were amazing, Manny. Gosh, did you hurt your hand?”
He grinned at her. “Won’t be playing the guitar for a few days, that’s for sure. But it was worth it.”
Poor Manny. He needed her sympathy and understanding. A little TLC. “If you stay after work, you can eat dinner with me tonight. I mean, if you want to.”
…
Seth pulled the barn doors closed. The second worst day of his life was finally over.
“Mr. Maguire.” Female voice, clipped, all business. Frankie’s death hadn’t changed Miss Bea.
He tipped his hat. “Miss Bea.”
“You run into a door?”
“Something like that.” He’d taken the punch because he deserved it and because Brittany deserved her pride back and because Manny deserved a break. But he hadn’t expected Manny to deliver a Golden Glove blow upside the head.
“Hmm.”
He jerked the brim of his hat down and squinted into the setting sun. “You come out here for something?”
“Mr. Shaw wants you to drive him over to Hacienda Osito tomorrow. Ten o’clock sharp.”
He had a lavender harvest to organize and bunkhouses to swab and horses to feed and apricots to ship, and from the looks of Manny’s hand, he wasn’t going to get much help. “I’d sure be grateful if you’d do the honors. There’s lots to get done.”
“Mr. Shaw asked for you.”
He opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. What difference did it make? This so-called ranch was on its last leg anyway. By the time Kirby got her hands on it, there’d be nothing left but property taxes and a mess of leaky buildings.
“This isn’t working,” he said.
“It will only take an hour.”
“Not that. The ranch. There’s fifty thousand wasted acres here. This is cattle country.”
She nodded. “I grew up in El Royo.”
“You have to talk to Shaw. You’re the only one he’ll listen to.”
“Why the sudden interest in the fortunes of Shaw Valley Ranch?”
“Don’t know.”
She came closer and peered up at him. “Eenie and I miss Kirby, too. Especially Eenie. He hoped she might stay, seeing as how you two were getting on so well.”
He pulled the brim of his hat lower. “Guess he was wrong.”
She nodded. “I’ll tell Eenie what you said. He’ll appreciate your opinion. He’s been considering his options lately if he’s going to take care of the people he loves.”
That word again.
Love.
He’d told Kirby there was no such thing. But there was. It burned like wildfire in his veins. Still, he wished he’d been right.
Because then his life wouldn’t have turned into this fucking nightmare.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Seth’s mood was foul when he brought the Escalade around. He’d barely slept—visions of Kirby with Scott haunted him until dawn.
When he finally gave up on sleep, he discovered his left eye had swollen shut.
“What happened to you?” Shaw had barely settled himself in the SUV before he started in on Seth.
“Ran into a door.”
Shaw chuckled. “Apparently it was a door with a mean left hook.”
“Apparently.”
“Kirby called last night. She got home safely.”
“That so.”
Shaw leaned forward. His voice softened. “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened between you two?”
He did mind. “Ask her.”
“I did. She said to ask you.”
Because there was nothing to tell. “Wrong place, wrong time.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“I appreciate your interest, but it doesn’t matter.”
“If it doesn’t matter, why not tell me?” Was that how Shaw had dug Hannah’s story out of Kirby?
“It started because she told you about my sister.”
“Go on.”
“We fought. I was an asshole, she was hurt.” He shrugged. “Then I killed her sister.”
“And saved Kirby’s life.”
“Look, Mr. Shaw, I appreciate your interest, but the fact is Kirby went up there alone because I was mad at her for trying to help me, and because she went up there alone, she nearly died and her sister was killed. By me. The man who was supposed to care about her.”
Seth’s gaze slid to the rearview mirror. Shaw was studying him. “That’s a lot of baggage for one relationship.”
“Exactly.”
“Has she forgiven you?”
“Doesn’t matter. She’s better off with Scott. He drove all the way down here to get her, didn’t he? Must be crazy about her.” Had he really just
said that? He was so full of shit.
Shaw leaned back. “Seems like we’re both wrestling demons.”
“How’s that?”
“Trying to right our mistakes can blind us to reality.”
“I’m not trying to right my mistakes, since it’s not possible.”
“Aren’t you?” Shaw asked.
He’s a nut. Seth punched the accelerator, pushing the SUV past seventy-five.
The Hacienda Osito arch loomed, and Shaw straightened. “I meant no disrespect, Mr. Maguire. We are two sides of the same coin. You, unable to see the possibilities. Me, unable to accept the probabilities.”
“Maybe you should spit out whatever’s on your mind. Before I get insulted.”
“I want to turn Shaw Valley into a working cattle ranch again.”
“Dang!” The Escalade swerved and bumped across the shoulder before Seth could right it. He was going to be a rancher. He was going to herd cattle. He was going to ride horses. He was going to rope and lasso and brand. His body felt light, his bones buoyant.
“I’ve surprised you. But you of all people should understand.”
His head was so crowded with plans, he barely knew he asked the question. “Understand what?”
“Kirby belongs here. She’s a Shaw. This land is in her blood. I want to give it to her the way I found it. Thriving, productive, stretching as far as a body can see.”
The wind in his sails died. Kirby would live in Shaw Valley. She would bring Scott or someone else here. She would have kids. He couldn’t stay. Building Shaw Valley into a thriving cattle ranch would be another man’s pleasure. Not his.
The Escalade passed under the Hacienda Osito arch and rattled over the packed dirt road. Seth pulled up in front of the ranch house. “Would you like some help getting out, Mr. Shaw?”
“Nope.” But he didn’t move.
“What are we doing here?”
“Sit tight, Mr. Maguire.”
“Sure.” Seth slouched down in his seat and contemplated the small clouds drifting across the sky like puffs of smoke and wondered what to do next. He didn’t know where he belonged anymore. He’d lost his way.
The hacienda’s door opened, and Miss Peppie, mistress of Osito, appeared. She waved at Shaw. A figure appeared behind her. One of the Morales girls?
Then Miss Peppie pushed the door wide, and Hannah stepped out.
He couldn’t move. She watched him from the steps, round eyed and shaking. So was he. For the first time in his life, he was scared. Scared to blink or turn away or think too much, because if he did any of those things she might disappear again. Then a great bubble of joy rose in him. Like he’d been riding across an empty plain, lost and desperate, and now he could see home.
“She was in L.A., as you always suspected,” Shaw said. “They discharged her from a halfway house for addicts about a year ago. She came back to El Royo. Been sleeping in your family’s old trailer, doing odd jobs in town to buy food. When we found her, we brought her to Miss Peppie. She’ll stay here until she’s back on her feet.”
He couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Are you okay, Mr. Maguire?”
“Thank you.”
“You can return the favor,” Shaw said.
“How?”
“Bring Kirby back to the ranch.”
“I can’t.”
“You are the only one who can.”
“Mr. Shaw—”
“I may be old, but I know when two people love each other. She left because of you. Because you are not being honest with her, and perhaps not honest with yourself.”
“I killed her sister.”
“You saved her life.” He tapped the back of Seth’s seat. “Go on then. Your sister is waiting for you.”
He went to Hannah. She was thinner and lovelier than he remembered. Her blue eyes clear, her dark hair glossy. She was clean and sober and heartbreaking.
She dropped her gaze. “I’m so sorry, Seth.”
He wanted to shake her and hug her all at once. “Why the hell didn’t you come to me for help?”
“I was ashamed.”
“I’ve looked everywhere for you.”
“You hate me, don’t you? I tried to tell Miss Peppie…” The hurt in her eyes was unbearable.
Grow up, Seth. Love doesn’t keep score. It’s about acceptance. Kirby had it right.
“I could never hate you.” He pulled her against him. “I’ve missed you…needed you.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Kirby’s Honda turned off the narrow country road, rattled across the gravel drive and under the arch.
Shaw Valley Ranch. She’d never expected to see it again. But here she was.
Her heart was in her throat, although whether from fear or happiness, she couldn’t make out. The fear came from knowing she’d see Seth again and knowing she’d thought of him 24-7 for the past month and knowing he’d not thought enough of her to even send a how-ya-doin’ text.
Happiness because she was coming home. Or at least that’s what it felt like.
Except for the long nights of staring at the ceiling and wondering what Seth was doing, the past month had flown by. She’d told Scott the truth. He took it well. Actually, he said he wasn’t surprised. Then two locals had gone on a mini crime spree as cat burglars. Chasing them down kept her busy for a few weeks.
The worst was working through what to do with Frankie. Charleen’s family had taken Charleen back to Houston to rest beside Joe. But they refused Frankie, so her final journey was up to Tulsa. Kirby anointed her with lavender oil to cleanse her spirit and set an eagle’s feather on her chest to speed her journey, then laid her beneath a simple white cross beside Grandy. The service had been quiet and sad and sparse. Just Kirby, Scott, and few of Grandy’s old friends. Cousin Eenie sent flowers and his regrets.
Still, Frankie had lingered as a sad, guilty memory. Over the phone, Cousin Eenie helped Kirby see that Frankie’s choices were her own, and mentally ill or not, she’d known what she was doing was wrong.
“She wouldn’t have snuck around otherwise,” he said.
But it was hard to accept that she couldn’t save Frankie. Harder to accept that she’d put Frankie’s death on Seth’s head when it should have been on hers. And she’d stopped answering Cousin Eenie’s calls because they reminded her that she’d failed Frankie and she’d failed Seth and lost her right to call the ranch home.
Shaw Valley Ranch in August was dry and brown, compliments of the fierce Texas sun. Above the trees, the chimneys of the big house rose, smokeless and pale against the bright blue sky. A hot wind scattered red dust across the road.
It felt like coming home after a long journey.
But this was a business trip, and a short one at that.
Mr. Cargill had family papers for her to sign. She’d put up a fight, insisting he come to Tulsa, and when that didn’t work, offering to fly to L.A. “The ranch will be yours someday. You can’t stay away forever.” But she’d already worked out that Seth could run it and keep the proceeds and take care of Miss Bea and Susannah. Even raise a family there someday, although she tried not to think about that too much.
She stopped short of the house and closed her eyes. It would take every drop of courage to smile through the coming hours, as if she didn’t care about Seth or miss these people who’d become the only family she had left.
Be still until the mist clears, Kirby-nee. Then you will see where to go.
Grandy’s way of telling her to stop fussing.
Her anxiety fell away. “Stay with me,” she whispered, then put the car in gear and chugged up to the house, trying not to think of the first time she drove here, or the handsome cowboy who’d been waiting for her.
“Wow.” The word burst from her lips.
Someone had gussied up the old house. Pots of geraniums hung from hooks above the porch, and white wicker tables and chairs were lined up along the railing. A woman in yellow—Susannah?—waved at her.
; Kirby waved back.
Nervousness forgotten, Kirby jumped out of the car, noting the welcome mat and the jar of sun tea brewing on the steps.
“You’re here!” Susannah said. “We missed you.”
“What are you doing out here? How?”
One of Susannah’s fine brows rose. “Our very strong, very handsome ranch manager picks me up and carries me down the stairs like I’m a feather. Too bad his heart is taken.”
“Taken?” The word kicked her.
Susannah’s smile faded. “I’ve said too much.”
Footsteps echoed against the floor, and Miss Bea appeared at the end of the porch. She carried a white cloth that she shook out and spread over a table. Then she straightened and eyed Kirby.
“It’s good to see you return, Miss Kirby. Since this is where you belong.”
“Bea. Don’t be so bossy,” Susannah said.
“Just saying things how they are,” Miss Bea said. She jerked her head toward the front door. “Go on in. They’re waiting for you.”
Kirby roused herself. She was here to sign papers. “Of course.”
“Dinner’s in one hour. Don’t be late,” Miss Bea said. Another set of footsteps vibrated on the porch, and Angie came around the corner balancing a stack of mismatched dinner plates.
Kirby’s jaw dropped. Seth’s taken. Wasn’t that what Susannah said?
“Angie is my new nurse,” Susannah said. “When Bea was arrested and Eenie had to leave me alone to get her out of that horrid jail, we decided more help was needed. Besides, poor Bea deserves a break.”
“We decided nothing of the sort. You and Eenie ganged up on me,” Miss Bea said. But she smiled. Her eyes landed on Kirby, and the smile faded. “Go on, now. Don’t keep them waiting.”
“Right. It was nice to see you all.” And she meant it.
Kirby opened the front door.
“She’s here, she’s here. Awk. Hurry, he’s this way.”
It took a moment for Kirby’s eyes to adjust to the dim light. She saw Sarah Slade first, head tilted, sharp beak poking through the bars of her cage. Then a man and a woman materialized in the gloom of the parlor. They stood together, shoulders touching, watching her. She didn’t need to see Seth’s face to know he was the man. His body was as familiar as her dreams.
