Legacy of Lies

by Jillian David

  “Anyway. So that’s the basic story.” Flat tone. No emotion.

  “Sounds strange to me.”

  His glinting gaze narrowed. “Did your Mom call or write after she dropped you off?” he snapped.

  “Well, no ...”

  “Then Zach’s mother leaving isn’t strange at all, is it?”

  Boom. Boom. She could almost see the walls coming down around him. Tough and strong and defensive. She’d pushed too much.

  Message received.

  After a few awkward restarts, she finally steered the conversation toward benign topics like weather and ranching, but the tension remained.

  After he set his empty glass down, he threw a few bills onto the table. “This was nice.”

  “Well, mostly.”

  He tapped the table. “Hey, we all have our pasts. No worries about anything that was said, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “And yes, it was a nice evening. Two adults having a dinner together.”

  “Like normal people?”

  “Normal. Exactly.” He scooted out of the booth and turned his palm up. “Ready to go?” Was that a double entendre? His dark gaze danced as he studied her.

  Her heart thudded as she eyed the tall rancher. You have no idea. Putting her hand in his, she let him help her out of the booth and into her coat.

  Despite herself, she smiled. Then froze.

  “What?” He turned around.

  “Sara?” From the front of the restaurant, a man ambled toward them, with that wide, confident stance.

  Hank. She would know that sneer anywhere, and she knew better than to trust the smile. He could turn on a dime. The meal burned in her stomach; she would pay good money to be anywhere but here right about now.

  “I don’t want to talk with him,” she muttered.

  Garrison gave a sharp nod. “Done. With pleasure.”

  Hank hadn’t changed much. Same beard, same unkempt brown hair, same attitude, like a man who wanted to pick a fight with everyone. Handsome to look at but ugly when he opened his mouth. Even now, he planted his feet and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

  But then he smiled, all charm. Classic Hank. “Hi, Sarita.”

  She didn’t use that name, and he knew it.

  He sniffed. “You’re looking lovely as usual this evening.”

  “Thank you, Hank. This isn’t the best time to chat, so you have a good day.”

  “How have you been?” He grinned.

  “We’re just leaving.” Garrison tugged her toward the door.

  “Good luck, Taggart.” The sneer slid from under his curled lip.

  He whipped around. “What?”

  Crap.

  “You know she’s a loser, right?” At least Hank had the courtesy to keep his voice down. Judging by the darting glances and whispers, way too many patrons found the meeting far too interesting for her comfort.

  A muscle popped in Garrison’s jaw. Holy mother of God.

  “Hey, now, that’s uncalled for, Brand. Come on, Sara, let’s go.”

  She pasted on the blandest smile she could muster. “Hank, so nice to see you. Please give my best to your family. You have a good night now.”

  His eyes bulged, and the pleasant facade melted into true, red rage. “Your best isn’t good enough for my family, or anyone.”

  “Hank, that’s enough,” Garrison said, voice low and controlled. Too controlled.

  They were so not doing this ... drama in a public place. She forced the words out around her tight throat. “All righty, then. Well, you take care now.”

  Garrison turned his back on a leering Hank and held open the door for her. Despite her coat, she wanted to cover herself up even more.

  As he walked at her side across the parking lot, she welcomed his solid presence even in the safe community of Copper River. Tiny flakes of snow fell in the early evening. Besides the few cars moving down Main Street, no one else was outside. The chilly air remained still around them.

  Pausing at her car door, he said, “Pardon my French, but Hank’s a massive asshole.”

  “So says Mr. Obvious.” Despite herself, she giggled. The genuine smile felt good but didn’t erase the hurt deep down. “Life is better without him anywhere in the general vicinity.”

  “Agreed.” Garrison rubbed his neck. “For you and for me.”

  “So, thanks for helping me deal with ...”

  He flicked his hand like the memory of a certain jerk could be tossed away.

  If only it were so easy.

  He cleared his throat. “Well, uh, thank you for trying to help my boy.”

  “Of course. I’ll keep trying to figure out a solution for him.”

  “Whatever you decide, don’t put your job in jeopardy. Please.”

  “I’ll be careful. And I’m sorry for the comment about your divorce.”

  “It’s long forgotten, along with the ex-wife. You’re fine. Believe me.”

  “Oh.” She looked around for something useful to say. Nothing came to mind.

  He toyed with the edge of his jacket. “So, Sara ...?” The smooth rumble of his voice set her insides quivering.

  The top half of his face hid in shadow beneath the hat. She could barely see his eyes but felt them boring into her face.

  “This evening was nice,” he said. “Besides the Hank stupidity.”

  “I agree. God, he’s a jerk.”

  One boot toed the gravel. “You think we could try another dinner together sometime? Minus the dumbass?”

  Her heart stumbled two beats. “Like a date?” she blurted. “Even after what Hank—”

  “Anything that man says, I tend to think the exact opposite. He’s not worth the oxygen wasted to speak his name.”

  “True.”

  Puffs of vapor drifted up between them as they breathed.

  “So, then,” he said. “Dinner later? A ... date?”

  “Uh, sure. Yes.” Typing his number, she texted him her info. Her stuttering heart continued to trip along.

  There wasn’t much to do, but she didn’t want to leave. Not yet. The silence stretched for too long.

  He tilted his hat up an inch with his thumb. “I’d like to give you a kiss good night, if you’d oblige.”

  Back on its feet, her heart now scampered in place. “Okay,” she whispered.

  He moved forward until his body heat reached her exposed face and neck. The scent of good food, leather, and hardworking man blended in a heady mixture.

  “It’s been a while, so I may be rusty.” His low voice sent jolts of anticipation down her spine.

  Her lips waited, just a few cruel inches away from his mouth ... was this some kind of evil torture? Would she have to wait, a millimeter from heaven, while she froze to death?

  No thank you.

  Never let it be said that Sara couldn’t take charge of an iffy situation when the chips were down.

  Or help knock some rust off a fellow.

  She grabbed his sheepskin and leather jacket lapels, yanking him toward her as she stood on tiptoes.

  When their lips met, a zap of holy wow shot clear to her feet, then returned to settle in her pelvis, swirling in the most delightful way. The heat from his mouth flowed like warm liqueur through her body. After a moment, her calves protested the height difference, and she staggered back a step. Her hands remained clamped onto his jacket.

  She licked her lips, her taste buds instantly craving more of his spicy male essence. A comparison between the taste of his lips and the rest of his body would be fine, too. “Yes, well. So there you go, no more rust. Like riding a bike,” she babbled.

  With difficulty, she unclenched her hands from the crushed jacket lapels, then smoothed the worn leather, like it was a suit coat. A flash of desire hit her. Oh, baby Jesus, what would this man look like in a suit? With those shoulders?

  When he leaned down, his stubble brushed her cheek, sending ticklish, delicious sparks skimming over her skin. “I might need more practice.” His brea
th slid up her jaw and drifted over her ear.

  He wrapped his leather-clad arms around her upper back and waist and pulled her close again, this time dictating the timing and pressure of the kiss. Had she thought his mouth hard and cruel before? Because right now, his strong and soft lips sent flickers of excitement right into her own mouth.

  When he tugged her flush against him, even through their coats, she sensed the iron muscles of his torso, flexing as he adjusted his stance. She melted against him. Despite their difference in height, they fit perfectly.

  Moving his mouth into a fabulous new angle, he stroked with his tongue until her lips tingled.

  In the name of the Holy Spirit, amen. This guy kissed like a pro, his kisses a perfect mixture of gentle and possessive.

  Rusty? Out of practice? She’d love to bear witness to his expertise when he regained proficiency. Kisses any better than these could kill a woman. Dead.

  She floated for what seemed like hours, cocooned in his steady arms, and savored the sensations that arose beneath his ever-changing lips. Just when she got used to one angle, he shifted and nudged her mouth open for more. The confident strokes of his tongue and nips of his teeth made her toes tingle.

  When one of his hands snaked up into her hair and massaged her scalp, every muscle in her body short-circuited. For the first time in her life, her knees nearly gave out on her. Amazing.

  After minutes—hours? days?—he pulled back. “Wow,” he said. Vapor from his breaths created puffs in the winter air.

  Was he breathing as quickly as she was?

  “Well. This has to be the best parent-teacher meeting, ever,” she said.

  The vibration of his answering chuckle rolled through her ribcage, making her breasts perk up and take notice.

  “I believe this is the part where I tell you I’ll call you?”

  Dazed, she managed to respond, “Only if you mean it.” Crap. Dumb answer.

  Even dumber? The part where she wanted to hang out with him more. Stupid idea, if she wanted to protect her job and her loan payment, given that her boss’s family hated Garrison’s. Hey, it was just his phone number. No requirement to answer. That’s what caller ID was for.

  He whipped his hand around to the back of her neck and planted one more toe-tingling kiss, followed by a playful nip that removed any question of his intention to call.

  Okay, maybe she would consider one more date. Then she would stop. Because work. Life plans. Things that didn’t involve a sexy rancher.

  With a sheepish grin, he opened her car door and stood there while she turned the ignition. Once she’d closed the door and put on her seat belt, he stepped back.

  It took every ounce of willpower not to touch her lips until she had pulled onto Main Street. Or circle back and beg him for more yummy kisses.

  Once home, she kicked off her shoes, set down her bag, and tried not to swoon like a cartoon princess. But what an unexpected end to her evening.

  How long could she block reality from stomping on her happiness?

  She spun back as the doorbell rang.

  Garrison? Here? Her heart fluttered.

  She flung open the door.

  A seething Hank greeted her.

  Chapter 7

  Son of a bitch, he actually manned up and kissed a woman. Not just any woman but Zach’s cute teacher. Okay, mild conflict of interest, but when presented with such a lush set of lips like that, what kind of man could resist?

  Garrison hesitated before opening his front door. Responsibility, stress, and more problems awaited him inside the house. If he could only stay outside, he’d get to revel in the evening.

  He felt like a man who had been walking through the desert and had finally found water. Delicious, fresh water. Water to drink, to roll in, to swim laps.

  As he brushed his jacket, a faint scent of flowers made him want to wrap his arms around that body all over again. He hadn’t been able to properly explore all the ways she fit against him, due to the coats they wore. But he had tasted paradise.

  Now he wanted seconds.

  Funny, he’d always gone for the petite, blonde, sexpot types back in the day. A lot of good that had done him. This real woman with real curves and really hot kisses revised his selection criteria in a millisecond.

  Maybe it was time for him to make new, better decisions.

  He entered the kitchen to find Shelby and his dad sitting at the table, plates half empty. As one, they looked up at him with twin expressions: tight and haggard.

  “Want leftovers?” she asked, already pushing her chair back.

  Garrison raised his hand. “No, already ate. Don’t let me interrupt your dinner.”

  She tilted her head and raised her nose, as if sniffing the air. When she pinned him with an inscrutable expression right before her eyes unfocused, he couldn’t maintain eye contact.

  She winced, blinked, and then grinned like a Cheshire cat.

  Busted.

  Thank goodness his father was generally immune to the psychic activity swirling around him. Although he knew about Garrison’s and his siblings’ abilities, Dad mostly ignored that there was anything strange about his children. As long as they didn’t flaunt their abilities, Garrison and his siblings pretty much did whatever they wanted with their gifts. No rules.

  Good. Because no rule would stop him from threatening to dump horse hockey on his sister when she read his emotions like a billboard on the highway. Once again, she flashed that cheeky expression, devoid of repentance.

  Refusing to meet Shelby’s knowing gaze, Garrison cleared his throat and pulled a chair out to sit at the table. “You two talking about anything interesting?”

  His sister’s and father’s faces fell. Garrison leaned forward, elbows propped on the edge of the table. The sinking feeling in his gut had nothing to do with any psychic ability and all to do with Murphy’s Law.

  “Got another call a few hours ago from our ‘neighbor’ asking if we’d sell the property.” Even Shelby’s finger quotes were sarcastic.

  “Again? What the hell? You just told them no.” Garrison’s hand itched to pick up the phone and give Hank Brand a piece of his mind.

  Their father’s lips curled up, but the lines of strain on his face told a different tale. “I’m getting a little weary of the pressure to sell. So, I took Shelby’s advice. In the most polite language, I told him to go screw himself.”

  “Polite?” Garrison asked.

  Shelby grinned.

  “Maybe less polite this time ... and more descriptive.”

  “Must’ve been a short conversation.” Garrison smiled.

  “Yessir, pretty much ended our chat. That guy couldn’t take a hint if it ran him over on the road.”

  Austin Taggart wasn’t a young man. He’d married and had kids later in life than most men. But even being in his late sixties, his father’s arms still had muscle from years of ranching. His hair had gone from dark brown to white only in the past few years, what with Mom unexpectedly dying, Garrison’s older brother Vaughn flying the coop, Tiffani’s departure, Kerr’s military injuries, and now all the problems with the ranch. How much could one man take?

  Garrison ran a hand through his hair. “True. What else?”

  When his father remained silent, Shelby finally piped up. “More cattle loss.”

  His father sagged in the chair. “I was checking the fence again this afternoon.”

  “With someone?” Garrison asked.

  “No, on my own. I can still ride.” The older Taggart drained his glass.

  “Where’s Kerr?”

  Shelby’s head came up sharply and flicked a glance around the kitchen. She and Kerr had an odd connection. Whenever they were separated, they both got on edge until they could reestablish that connection again. Must be a twin thing. All Garrison knew was that the time Kerr served in the military had been hell for Shelby.

  “He’s not back yet,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck.

  “He’s late. Supposed to b
e helping here on the ranch.” Garrison gritted his teeth.

  With a shrug, she said, “Hey, the clients were determined to get elk, so the guys stayed out another day. It’s good pay. Besides, we need any extra money we can get.”

  He flinched. Because my ex-wife sucked the accounts dry.

  His father’s eyes narrowed. “Why the hell can’t I ride my own property, son?”

  “It’s not specific to you, Dad. I don’t want anyone going out alone. Those Brand folks are getting weird. Unpredictable. Hank came up to me at the Hungry Moose this evening, half-cocked. Of all the stupid things.”

  “Why? You barely know Hank,” she said. “And what were you doing at the diner?”

  He wasn’t about to spill about his evening with cute teacher. Shelby would needle him forever. “Why does Hank do anything? To be an asshole. But we’ve got to be careful. Until further notice, only go out with another person. And firearms.”

  “You’re kidding? Here, on our own property?” Shelby asked.

  “I’m dead serious,” Garrison said. “Anyway, Kerr should be back tomorrow, and he can help.”

  Shelby murmured, “Man, I wish Vaughn were here.”

  Son of a bitch. She’d come out and said it. If their oldest brother, Vaughn, were here, they wouldn’t be in this mess. That’s what she meant. Shelby wasn’t incorrect, which made the statement hurt even more.

  The hackles on Garrison’s neck rose, and he squeezed his jaw closed to try to control the frustration. Even though Garrison had taken over responsibility for running the ranch, the specter of his older brother always remained. Never mind that Vaughn had split for New York City over a year ago and never called home. When the going got tough, everyone still wanted to call Vaughn.

  Garrison had always come in second place.

  His father pushed away from the table and stood up. “Maybe he’ll return home soon.”

  And maybe pigs will fly.

  “Yep.” Garrison bit his tongue.

  No use arguing with his dad. It wasn’t his father’s fault that Vaughn left them, their neighbors had lost their minds, and the ranch was going down the shitter. He curled his hands into fists, watching his father leave the room. For a guy who claimed to be fine riding the property, his old man shuffled like ... an old man. Was he unsteady on his feet? Damn it.