She didn’t know what to say to his question. She wasn’t going to lie to him, but she felt as though he was putting her in an untenable situation.
“Travis, I wish you wouldn’t continue to put pressure on me to move out of my condo. I really enjoy staying there while I’m in L.A. It’s a great escape, only a block from the beach with an ocean view. I love my condo.”
“A lot more than you could love it here,” he said flatly.
“That’s not what I mean!”
“I don’t know what you mean because you won’t tell me what you’re thinking. You won’t tell where I fit into your plans. I’m not even sure if I fit into your plans.”
“Why are you asking me to choose between you and my career?” she said, throwing up her hands.
“I never said that. I just want you to make a commitment to me. To us. To our baby.”
“I have made a commitment. I married you and I am having this baby. Those are facts, Travis. Those are commitments.”
“You live out of a suitcase while you’re here, Jodie. You treat the house like it’s a hotel, never leaving a thing out of place.”
“That’s because this is your house. They’re your things!”
“Then bring your things here, Jodie. Fill up all the closets and drawers. Unpack your knickknacks and put them everywhere. Rearrange my kitchen until I don’t know where my utensils are, where to find a clean glass. For God’s sake, Jodie, move in! This is your house now, too.”
She stood beside the wide window, soaking in the weak sunlight, clenching her fists to keep from shaking. “I do live out of suitcases, Travis. I’ve done it for years. And despite what you offer, this is your house. You designed it, you built it. You even refer to it as yours, not ours. If I’m not the kind of woman you want, I’m sorry, but I can’t be any different than who I am. I’m a career woman. I can’t even cook! And as for messing up your house, putting my knickknacks around, I can’t. I just can’t, because…because I don’t have any knickknacks.”
She turned and ran down the hall and up the stairs to the safety of the guest room.
She should have stayed here. She never should have slept in Travis’s bed. He’d tempted her with how things could be. He’d made her believe that she could have it all.
But she couldn’t. She couldn’t have it all because she couldn’t change who she was.
Travis didn’t want the real Jodie. He wanted a myth. He wanted the girl next door, not the career woman with her own condo.
She flung herself down on the bed and cried for everything she’d never had.
TRAVIS RODE OUT to the spring, as he’d done over two weeks ago when Jodie had made her first offer of marriage. He needed to think. And unlike that other time, a sad type of anger ate at his insides. The walls of the house he’d carefully planned and built pressed down around him until he couldn’t breath.
He urged his gelding into a gallop, across the hills and toward the line of trees. Hoofbeats pounded in rhythm to his heart as he approached the edge of his property where trees circled the springs and lined the fencerow. The live oaks and cedars remained green all winter, but the rest of the limbs were bare and twisting against the cloudy sky. He reined to a stop, taking in the edge of his property as his horse blew hard after their dash across the land. He swung down from his gelding, placed one booted foot on a rock, and knew it was time to look within himself.
Instead of the gently moving water in the natural pool, he saw Jodie’s tear-streaked face and could hear the hurt in her voice as she told him she couldn’t be the kind of woman he wanted.
Hell, he didn’t want a certain kind of woman. He knew what he didn’t want, though. A self-absorbed wife who lived only to satisfy her needs. He didn’t think Jodie was such a career woman that she couldn’t care about him or their child.
She just didn’t feel married to him. She’d admitted that she hadn’t felt pregnant until yesterday. And if they couldn’t live as man and wife, in the same house and the same bed, how could they become a couple? How could they be equal parents to their child?
He wanted to be connected to Jodie through more than the baby. That was the reason they’d married, but he didn’t want their child to be the reason they stayed together. He wanted more now that he’d gotten a glimpse, just a small peek, at what might be.
He didn’t quite understand what had happened in his bedroom. Jodie claimed she lived out of suitcases, that she couldn’t make his house a home. But how could that be true? She obviously thought of her condo as her home in California. She’d bought furniture and furnishing to make herself comfortable. Why couldn’t she do the same thing here?
He wasn’t sure what he’d done to make her feel unwelcome in his house. Obviously this was her house, too, legally and morally, since they were married. She’d said he referred to the house as his rather than theirs, but he couldn’t remember doing that. Perhaps he had made some comment. If so, he hadn’t meant anything by it. He’d certainly never considered that Jodie might be offended.
His sister had claimed that men were oblivious to the finer nuances of emotion, speech, body language and other communication that women understood. Perhaps that’s what was going on between him and Jodie.
Some of his “good ol’ boy” friends and neighbors would tell him that Jodie was just being too sensitive, but he didn’t think so. She’d gotten a little more emotional because she was pregnant, although her condition didn’t make her irrational. Maybe she was seeing something he’d never imagined, something he hadn’t intended.
He needed to go back to the house, to talk to Jodie and to explain that he hadn’t meant to push her away, to make her feel unwelcome. He didn’t think less of Jodie because she didn’t collect things, cook or make a “nest” as some women did. She had other strengths, other abilities, that he admired.
He wanted to recapture the magic he’d experienced all too briefly with Jodie. He wanted to see that look in her eyes, the emotion she’d displayed yesterday at the clinic when they’d seen the sonogram of their baby.
With a renewed sense of purpose, Travis swung into the saddle and headed home. Not to his house, but to theirs.
But after he’d unsaddled and stabled his gelding and walked into the too quiet house, he knew something was wrong. He found Jodie’s note lying on the breakfast bar and tore it open.
He read the note out loud. “‘I’ve gone back early for my meetings. I’ll be at my condo and will contact you later, after I’ve had time to think.’”
She’d signed it with a simple “J.” Not even her whole name. Definitely no sentiment, not that he’d expected “love always” or even “best wishes.” She’d just walked out without a word.
And then he saw the photo of their baby, their little “peanut,” lying on the counter. He picked it up with trembling hands, remembering the emotion they’d both felt when Dr. Amy had produced the image on the sonogram. If he’d been cynical about Jodie, he would have said she was taunting him by leaving the photo. But he knew her better than that now. She’d left the picture because she knew the baby meant so much to him, too.
“Damn,” he muttered. While she was taking action, he’d been thinking about their situation, mulling things over in private. And now she was on her way to the place she considered her home. To the place where she unpacked those suitcases she lived out of, where she watched the sun set over the Pacific and decorated—or not—to suit her own tastes. Not his, not anyone else’s.
Could she ever think of Ranger Springs as her home?
JODIE’S FIRST PRIORITY was to find an excellent obstetrician in Los Angeles, then make an appointment to have her condition checked. Seeing the tiny life on the screen and feeling the fear that something was wrong had made her more committed than ever to having a safe pregnancy and a robust baby.
She’d flippantly proclaimed to Travis that she was as healthy as a horse and that no women in her family ever had problems with pregnancy, but she finally accepted that she wasn’t invuln
erable. She could have problems just like any other woman.
She’d never felt as connected with the women she represented—all the girls-next-door and big girls and ordinary women—than she did now that she had problems. A non-consequential medical problem, she hoped, and more important in the long run, a man problem.
She’d made a vow to herself that she would learn to be a wife, and she actually thought she’d been making progress, but then they’d had another argument and she’d walked—or run—away while Travis had been out riding.
Just as he’d run out on her when they’d argued before.
She probably shouldn’t have done that, but darn it, she hadn’t seen any reason to stay around there and be tense. To avoid each other, or worse still, to try to be polite when all she felt was hurt. She didn’t know how to cope with these feelings, so she’d run back to California.
With a sigh she swung her luggage onto the bed and began to unpack. Regardless of what she’d told Travis, she didn’t live out of a suitcase all the time. And she was beginning to think that perhaps she didn’t want to travel so much. The idea of having a real home, a real family, had planted itself into her mind and was slowly growing.
She didn’t have to model, either on the runway or in print ads, on a regular basis. She could be a cosmetics spokesperson and explore some of her other options. Designing clothing had a certain appeal, and who wouldn’t love to have a fragrance named for them?
She was going to take these few days to rest, to get checked by the doctor and to think about what she really wanted. She also had to think about what was reasonable, given her sometimes volatile relationship with Travis. Could they make their marriage work if they couldn’t communicate? The next move was up to her.
TRAVIS DIDN’T KNOW what to do. Take action, as every atom in his body screamed, or be patient, as he imagined his sister Kate would advise. One thing was certain—pacing the rooms of his house and wishing Jodie would magically appear wasn’t getting him anywhere. It was after two o’clock in the afternoon and she was no doubt already back in Los Angeles.
“Damn,” he muttered again, grabbing the keys to the SUV. He needed to get out, to do something. And in times like this, he needed the council of his friends.
Hank might be a big kidder and appear to be a carefree cowboy, but he was smart and loyal. Besides, he’d learned a lot about women in the past two years since marrying Gwendolyn. Hank might know what to do, Travis thought as he quickly dialed his neighbor’s home number.
“I’ll buy you a beer and listen to your advice on how to fix my screwed-up life if you’ll meet me at Shultze’s Roadhouse,” he said as soon as Hank answered.
“What did you do to make Jodie angry?”
“Hell, lots of things. Just meet me and I’ll try to remember everything I did wrong.”
“That may take a while. I’ll tell Wendy not to wait supper for me.”
They hung up and Travis kept driving. A nice, dark honky-tonk was where a man should go to solve his problems, right?
Schultze’s Roadhouse sat right on the state highway, just outside the city limits but close enough that everyone came here for beers, burgers, barbecue and camaraderie. Two pool tables held court in the back room and the juke box featured only country-western music, except for a couple of Frank Sinatra classics that Olive, the bartender, listened to when she wanted to be maudlin.
Maybe he should listen to them today, Travis thought as he pulled into the parking lot, found a space near the front door and killed the engine. Or maybe not. He was already feeling pretty sorry for himself.
At midafternoon the place was pretty empty. A few die-hards sat at the end of the bar, kind of like the two regulars on “Cheers,” only in overalls and gimmee caps. The pervasive smell of cigarette smoke hung in the air and coated every surface and a neon beer sign made an annoying buzzing noise as he walked up to the bar to order.
“Hey, Olive. Make mine a long-neck, and get Hank whatever he wants when he comes in. I’ll be in the booth over there,” Travis said, nodding toward the back corner where they’d have some privacy to talk.
“Sure enough, Travis.”
Olive delivered his beer. Within another five minutes, Hank arrived, picked up his own beer and settled across from Travis in the booth.
“So, what’s up with Jodie?”
“She’s gone back to California.”
“One of those trips you mentioned?”
“No, not really. One of those arguments I didn’t mention.”
“Ah,” Hank said, then took a long draught of his beer. “You want to talk about what you did to screw up?”
“No, but it’s the only thing I haven’t tried yet, so listen up.”
Chapter Fifteen
Jodie’s schedule filled up quickly once the creative team knew she was back in California early. Fortunately, she’d located a good doctor who’d had a late-afternoon cancellation yesterday. She’d discovered that, just as Dr. Amy Phillips had told her, she was fine now. The broken blood vessel had healed completely.
She could resume all her normal activities, the doctor had said with a knowing smile. For Jodie, that meant work, work and more work. Not making love, as she and Travis had teased each other about a couple of days ago.
She sighed as she stepped out of her sporty little Audi convertible in the office building’s parking garage. She had meetings most of today with ad execs, a corporate V.P., a still photographer, the video production crew and some of the creative team she’d met before. In addition, Neil would join them later in the day to coordinate press activities in preparation for the ad campaign.
“This is what you’ve dreamed of,” she whispered to herself as she waited for the elevator. Too bad she kept thinking about Travis, the husband she’d run out on in Texas. And her precious and fragile baby. And sex. Don’t forget the sex she wasn’t having!
The elevator bell dinged, reminding her of the tiny cluster of bells on the door of the Four Square Café. Of all the nice people there who led much less hectic lives. With another sigh, she stepped into the brass-and-mirrored car that would take her thirty-six floors up to the world she’d chosen.
Seven hours later she emerged from the downtown building, said “Goodbye” to half the team and “See you tomorrow” to the rest, and claimed her car. She’d be driving home through rush-hour traffic, but she’d declined the offer of dinner and more talk of the cosmetics campaign. She’d claimed fatigue from her flight—plus she’d endured some jokes about her Texan keeping her up at night—as her excuse to get away from everyone. The truth was that she was bone tired because she hadn’t gotten her daily nap, and all she wanted to do now was to curl up and watch the sun set over the Pacific from her second-floor balcony.
Normally she’d have a glass of wine beside her lounge chair, but that wasn’t an option now. Not drinking wasn’t a problem, but she realized she’d have to explain it to her friends and business associates. Pretty soon, she was going to have to tell them about the pregnancy anyway.
An hour and a half later, she pulled into her parking spot. All she wanted after she watched the sunset was a long soak in the tub and about ten hours of uninterrupted sleep.
But when she saw the tall, handsome Texan silhouetted in the entrance hall to her building, her fatigue disappeared in an instant.
“TRAVIS.”
He heard her breathe his name, producing the same reaction as if she’d run her fingertips lightly up his spine. She looked stylish in her black jumpsuit, which zipped up the front and was cinched by a metal-studded leather belt. She also looked tired in her high-heeled black sandals. “Hello, sweetheart.”
Her large zebra-print purse slipped from her shoulder to the concrete walkway. A matching silk scarf puddled on the concrete. “What are you…When did you…”
He pushed away from the doorway and walked the few feet separating them. “I would have come sooner, but I just missed the earlier flight.”
“Why?”
�
��Because I had a hellacious hangover this morning.”
“No, I mean why did you come to L.A.?”
He stood in front of her and looked into her eyes. “A married couple should be together during the tough times. I want to be here for you, to make sure you’re healthy and safe and happy. To do whatever I can to make your life easier and better. I can’t do that when I’m in Texas and you’re in California, and I know you need to be here for your career. It took me a while to admit it, but I was being selfish. I wanted you in Texas with me.”
“What happened?”
He shrugged. “When I realized that while I was out thinking about our relationship, you had taken action, I knew I needed to do the same thing. So I did what any red-blooded American male would do—I called up my best friend, met him at our local honky-tonk and drank way too many beers.”
He saw a slight smile forming. “Did Hank tell you to fly out here and fetch me home?”
“No,” Travis said, cupping her shoulders. “He told me that I needed to quit being so bossy and get myself out here to be with you. That’s when I realized that where we were didn’t matter as much as being together. I love the ranch, but I can be flexible. Why can’t we have two homes?”
“Oh, Travis, are you serious? This isn’t some duty thing, is it? You want to spend time out here with me?”
“Maybe not every time you need to have a meeting, but often. Occasionally I have to travel on business, and I’d love for you to come with me when you can. We have two careers and I hope we can both compromise.”
“And what about the condo?”
“Well, I’m not sure yet since I haven’t seen it inside.” He grinned at her. “The outside doesn’t look like something I’d design, but I think I might be able to live with that.”
“Come inside and see.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
She led him down the short walkway and up the stairs. “The view’s better up here.”
“I saw the ocean when I drove in. The waves are huge here in Newport Beach.”
Coming Home to Texas Page 15
