“This was a surprise,” she said as he settled into his seat and picked up his cup.
“Now, tell me more about this sudden desire to leave town, just about the time things got real interesting between us.”
Interesting? That’s how he described their night together?
Intense. Not unexpected, given their attraction. Inconvenient. That’s how she’d describe it.
“A while ago, you said I wasn’t being honest with you, but I always said I was leaving as soon as I could get my car fixed. I need this chance to be successful.”
He frowned as if he couldn’t understand why.
“What, you think only doctors and lawyers should be successful?” she asked.
“No, I didn’t say that. I admire the fact that you have goals.”
“Then you must not like my goal of succeeding in L.A.”
“There’s nothing wrong with L.A. I just wonder about why you need to go all the way out there. Do you want to rub elbows with the stars, or work at a specific salon, or what? I don’t understand.”
“I’m not some star stalker. I want to work there because those people are on the cutting edge of style. They make headlines when they walk down a red carpet in a certain designer’s clothes, wearing special jewelry, their hair and makeup by the best stylists. If I could be part of that—when I’m part of that—everyone will know that I’m successful.”
“Everyone as in your family?”
Scarlett frowned, her cappuccino losing its appeal. “Everyone is everyone. Why do you think it’s about my family?”
“Because most things are. Me, for example. I’m all about family and friends and town. I know that. It’s not exciting or glamorous, but that’s what makes me happy.”
“You’ve lost all your ambition?”
“I haven’t lost anything by moving back home.”
“I can’t believe you don’t want more. How about being a judge? Don’t you want that?”
“I’m doing a favor for a friend and mentor.”
She shook her head. “With no ulterior motives? No ambition to be there permanently?”
“First, who knows what might happen in the future? Second, very few things in life are permanent. Even if I did run for office, I could be voted out in four years. It would be all up to me to make sure I did a good job.”
“Just like it will be up to me to succeed in my chosen field. Why can’t you understand that?”
“I believe there’s a fundamental difference in our reasons, that’s all.”
“You mean your motives are better than mine.”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to. I understand. You’re just like my family. You think I should forget about my dreams because they aren’t based on education and conventional careers.”
“No! I think you should consider staying around people who care for you rather than trying to win the approval of people you don’t even know!”
His outburst made the sudden silence even more shocking. He was being totally mean and unreasonable. What did he know about her industry? What made him an expert on success?
But then, his remark about people who cared sank in, and part of her really wondered what he meant by that.
“Why do you care, James?”
“I care…I…we’re friends, right?”
“Oh, right. Friends.” Friends with benefits, that’s what she’d been thinking. That was before she’d realized how she really felt about James. Correction: how she could potentially feel about him.
He drank his coffee in silence, then said, “It’s just…after last night, I assumed you’d considered staying awhile longer. At least through Christmas.”
“I haven’t.”
The words seemed so sharp. So cutting. They had to be said, though.
He flinched just a tiny bit, then visibly firmed his jaw. He took another sip of his cappuccino. “Okay then. My mistake.” He looked at his watch. “I guess we’d better get back.”
She nodded, but didn’t think he was looking at her. Why couldn’t she have told him more gently?
“Just one thing.”
The last time he’d said that was early this morning, right before he’d kissed her.
“Are you going to wait for your car? Or do you want to go to Weatherford to catch that bus?”
She took a deep breath. “I’m going to wait for my car.”
“Good. I think that if you walked away from that car, you’d regret it.”
Probably.
“And I don’t want to be the reason you walked—or ran—away from something you cared about.”
The car, he meant, not the town, the people or him. She felt incredibly alone. “It’s not you. It’s me.”
He nodded, but his expression was way too serious for the James she’d come to know and love—no, admire. She wasn’t in love…yet. And if she could leave Brody’s Crossing in a week or so, perhaps she’d escape that fate.
AT THE OFFICE the next morning, James poured his energy into replying to the Holmeses’ nephew’s attorney. The other lawyer had proposed a compromise that would give the nephew a controlling position on the property. Yeah, good luck with that, James thought sarcastically. The nephew wasn’t getting anything. With a little help from professionals, the Holmeses would be fine. James would see to it.
Then he spent an unproductive five minutes or so thinking about his conversation with Scarlett last night. She’d been so defensive about her profession, so certain everyone was putting her down for the choices she’d made. Maybe he should have told her that he respected her choice of a career, even though he thought she could do almost anything she put her mind to. He hadn’t said that, but he’d told her he cared. Wasn’t that enough?
Maybe not, if he was still distracted.
Finally, he shook off his unproductive thoughts and wrote up some logs of hours he’d worked for a few clients, and left them for his mother to bill tomorrow or Monday. She probably wouldn’t have much to do next week, since he’d be presiding at the spacious Young County courtroom, with its wood benches and paneling, art deco frescoes and tall windows. He liked the big, airy room with the high ceilings and good lighting. It even smelled like a proper courtroom.
The afternoon darkened as five o’clock approached. Finally. James locked his office, went upstairs and suddenly saw Scarlett everywhere. Perched on his sofa, sitting at his dining table. Kissing him. The smell of her would still be on his sheets, in the bed he hadn’t bothered to make.
“Damn it,” he muttered in the empty, silent space. The only place she hadn’t been was his second bedroom, where he had placed his exercise equipment.
That’s what he needed—a good workout. He strode down the hall, trying not to think about how he’d felt while carrying Scarlett to his bedroom, and stripped off his business attire. He pulled on athletic pants and a T-shirt, and hit the machines. He had a lot of sweating to do before he eliminated his fixation with Scarlett No-last-name. Hell, he didn’t even know her real name!
As he focused on the controlled, repetitive movements of his home gym, he realized that he was just as mad at himself as he was disappointed in Scarlett. She was running away because he’d rushed her into making love. He’d asked her over for a home-cooked meal, knowing where he wanted the evening to end. He’d tried his best to be charming and seductive. She’d made the decision, but it had been his idea. She hadn’t come on to him.
She was going to L.A. come hell or high water. If he’d waited, she would have been gone, anyway. They would have never known what could have been.
Now he knew, and he wanted more. He wanted a lot more. Unfortunately, they had barely a week, and he had to be in Graham most of that time, leaving her here in Brody’s Crossing with a bunch of new friends and, if all else failed, a bus schedule.
Great. Now what?
SCARLETT CLOSED UP SHOP for Clarissa, who was catching a cold, and Venetia, who’d driven to Graham for Italian food and a movie. The salon f
ell silent as the last walk-in left and the doors were locked. Scarlett counted the money and checks, filled out a deposit slip and took the zippered bag to the bank’s night depository just down the street.
As the bag clunked to the bottom of the vault, she knew a long night stretched in front of her. The café was across the street, right next to James’s offices. Over that was his apartment.
The temperature wasn’t freezing, but there was a chill in the air, plus the humidity was high, making the cold seep in past her hoodie and sweater, through her jeans. It wasn’t a good night to sit in the park, but the café was promising. A sign in the window advertised chicken and dumplings, which sounded great. Her mother sometimes fixed that dish on cold nights. Scarlett suspected she wouldn’t be eating “cold weather food” once she got to L.A., and that was kind of sad.
Her knowledge of California cuisine consisted of the avocado and sprouts enhanced club sandwich at the local sub shop. Plus, she’d heard sushi was popular out there. She’d never eaten sushi and the idea of raw fish made her squirm.
So, the café it was. She tucked her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie and crossed the street.
The inside was toasty warm and smelled like heaven. She looked for a booth and saw Raven York wave to her. Raven was sitting with her fiancé, Troy Crawford, so Scarlett went over to say hi.
“I was drawn in by the promise of chicken and dumplings,” she said after exchanging greetings.
“We’re here to celebrate a little,” Raven said. “The house felt a little too confining after the good news that my brother is coming home soon.”
“That’s great. He’s in the military, right?”
“Reserves, serving active duty in Afghanistan.”
“I’m glad he’s coming home safe and sound.”
“He had a slight injury,” Raven said, taking Troy’s hand. “Some shrapnel hit him near the eye, but his sight wasn’t affected. Still, it was a scare.”
“I’ll bet.” Scarlett had seen a news story about all the injuries. The reality felt much closer now.
“Please, join us,” Raven said.
“Oh, I don’t want to interrupt your celebration dinner.”
“Nonsense! It will be nice to have someone to talk to,” Raven insisted.
“Please,” Troy said. “We’d welcome the opportunity to talk about Cal to someone else. I’ve worn out all my stories with Raven.”
“Okay, then, if you’re sure.” She settled in the booth opposite the couple.
Within minutes she’d ordered hot tea and milk, then a bowl of chicken and dumplings with the café’s “famous” cornbread on the side. As she listened to Troy talk about his brother, who was the real rancher at the Rocking C, she learned a lot about Texas values. There was a family bond that went way back. They were tied to that land. Troy had scrambled to find a way to save the ranch, but he was worried Cal wouldn’t like the changes.
“I guess it’s hard to accept something you didn’t have a part in deciding,” she said. She’d always felt that way. It seemed that everyone else in her family made decisions, and as the youngest, she was supposed to go along.
“The new Rocking C is going to take a lot of acceptance on Cal’s part,” Troy said, shaking his head. “I just hope that the injury, combined with his war experience, doesn’t make it worse.”
“I’m sure he’ll be glad to get home,” Scarlett said, right before her meal was set in front of her. The dish smelled delicious and she couldn’t wait to dig in.
A shadow darkened the table. She looked up to see James standing over her. He looked a bit rumpled. His damp hair wasn’t tamed and he wore an older—but not ratty—University of Texas sweatshirt and faded jeans. He looked sexy and a little dangerous.
“Hello, Troy. Hi, Raven. Good to see you both.” He turned to Scarlett, his eyes intense. “Hi, sweetheart. Didn’t we have a date tonight?”
Chapter Ten
“Um, no, not that I remember. I just ordered chicken and dumplings,” Scarlett said, which sounded rather silly, after James’s dramatic arrival. For someone who was so professional, he could certainly be unpredictable. They hadn’t made a date for tonight or any other night. And he had no business calling her “sweetheart”.
“No problem.” He joined them at the table by sliding in beside Scarlett, literally pushing her over. Their shoulders and hips bumped, and she had to resist the urge to smack his arm as she tried to get settled next to the wall. When the waitress came to the table, he ordered the nightly special also.
The two men chatted about the weather and sports. Raven leaned across the table and talked to Scarlett about the large selection of organic vegetables they’d have at the farmers’ market.
Soon everyone’s food was on the table. While Raven ate steamed vegetables and a baked potato, Troy seemed to thoroughly enjoy a basket of fried catfish. The “two couples” dynamic felt a little odd, as if both pairs were in equally committed relationships. They weren’t. Scarlett didn’t want to give her new friends, or anyone watching them from across the restaurant, the idea that she and James were an item.
Despite what he’d claimed in the car last night, openly flaunting her as his “girlfriend” was a mistake. She accepted that he wasn’t ashamed of her, but that didn’t mean he should tell the world that his idea of a great date was a wild red-haired stylist just passing through his town.
Had he forgotten he was going to be a judge next week? Did he have no sense of self-preservation?
“How are those bison working out?” James asked Troy after they’d taken several bites of their meals.
“Pretty well, except they’re a lot stronger and more ornery than cattle. The fences are taking a beating. No one has bred any manners into them.”
James chuckled and Scarlett smiled, but there was still tension in the air.
“I wish we didn’t have them, since they are being raised for meat, but the Crawfords won’t listen to me,” Raven said. “At least, I don’t think Cal will.”
“He won’t,” Troy stated, reaching for his fries.
They finished their meal with a few interruptions. Friends of Raven and Troy stopped by; clients and friends of James greeted them and chatted. Scarlett felt as though she was truly an outsider, surrounded by these very “settled” people.
Perhaps she should leave as soon as possible….
No, that wasn’t fair. She shouldn’t make decisions based on a whim, a fleeting sensation. When she was at the salon, she felt at home. Or as “at home” as she could be in this small-town atmosphere.
When she got to Diego’s in L.A., she was sure the feeling would be the same, only more exciting. Who knew what celebrities or important people she might see? She could touch the glamour long before she actually had any well-known clients. Wouldn’t her family be impressed once she landed some VIP customers?
When she emerged from her daydream, James was laying some bills on the table. He turned to her. “Ready?”
“For what?”
“To talk. To have hot chocolate. I’ll use any excuse you’d like to come to my apartment, as long as we get some things straight.”
“There’s nothing to work out. We’re fine.”
He took her arm and leaned close so only she could hear. “We’re not fine as long as you’re avoiding me, acting like I’m barely an acquaintance while we’re in public. When you run out on me before I can see you safely back to the salon.”
“Walking me ‘home’ wasn’t necessary.”
“It would have been the right thing to do.”
She rolled her eyes. “Really, James—”
“Really, Scarlett.”
She felt as if she should fold her arms over her chest and keep her fanny firmly in the seat. But he probably wouldn’t let her do that, at least not without making a scene. “Oh, okay. We’ll go to your place, but only to talk in private.”
“I love it when you’re sweet and cooperative.”
“Why, James, I didn’t know
you could be sarcastic.”
“I suppose you bring out my hidden traits.”
She was pretty sure he didn’t consider that a good thing.
The cold wind sent shivers through her, and she walked quickly down the street. James had a tendency to stroll, but tonight she didn’t wait for him. Besides, he would probably want to make a statement to anyone who saw them together, and she didn’t. She just wanted to be inside, away from wintry weather and curious eyes.
They went up the back stairs and she rubbed her hands together as he retrieved his keys. “The medicinal effects of the chicken and dumplings are fading fast,” she complained as he unlocked the door.
“That’s because you need a good coat.”
“Not in California,” she murmured to herself as she sat down on his couch.
“Do you want anything? Hot chocolate, tea or coffee?”
“No, I’m fine. Go ahead with your cross examination, counselor.”
“I don’t want to question you,” he said as he removed his jacket and draped it neatly over the back of a chair. “That’s one of the things I don’t understand about you. You seem to think that I’m critical. Or maybe you expect people to be critical of you.”
Scarlett frowned. “I don’t think I do that.”
James shrugged. “Think about it. I’m no psychologist so I could be all wrong.”
“Yes, you could be,” she said, realizing even as she made the statement that she sounded defensive. She looked into her lap where she was twisting the silver band she wore on her thumb. She didn’t expect people to find fault with her, did she?
She looked up as James sat beside her. “Scarlett, I know you plan to leave here as soon as you can. I wish you wouldn’t, but that’s your decision. While you’re in town, though, I want to spend as much time together as possible. I think you feel the same way.”
She nodded, unable to think of a single thing to say that wouldn’t sound either flippant or mushy.
“I’m not ashamed of being seen with you. I’m not going to flaunt that we spent the night together, but I’m not ashamed of that, either. Frankly, it’s no one’s business but ours.”
Texan for the Holidays Page 12
