The Best Catch in Texas

by Stella Bagwell

  With a weary sigh, Ridge turned out the light over his desk and left the office.

  The last thing he expected to find when he got home was his mother’s beige Lincoln parked in front of the gate. He couldn’t imagine what had brought her on the 130-mile trip from Houston. Particularly since she wasn’t one to get out and travel as far as the local mall without someone with her. He only hoped to God that she was sober.

  Ridge found her in the living room. She was sitting stiffly on the edge of an armchair staring in abject fear at Enoch, who was stretched out on his stomach in front of her feet. His paws were shoved together in a tight point, his nose resting on top. The dog was staring up at the strange woman with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation.

  At the sight of her son, Lillian wilted with relief. “He—” she pointed to the German shepherd “—barged his way past my legs and into the house! I thought he was going to maul me!”

  Ridge mentally shook his head. Enoch was a baby. He didn’t know the meaning of the word bite. “You mean with his tongue?” Ridge asked with wry humor. “Enoch loves everyone.”

  “Not me!” She brushed at the invisible hairs on her linen slacks. “I don’t like dogs and they don’t like me!”

  Enoch’s ears shot forward, and then he rose to his feet and slunk away from the visitor as though he’d figured her out and didn’t like the company.

  Ridge bent down and gave his pet a scruffy pat on the head. “Mmm. Guess you got that point over,” he said to his mother, then, bending down toward the dog, he said, “Enoch, you go to the kitchen and eat your treats.”

  The dog obediently trotted out of the room, and Ridge walked over to his mother. He pressed a kiss on a cheek that was perfectly rouged and powdered. Her short hair was streaked with just enough blond to hide the gray, and the lines around her eyes were carefully camouflaged with makeup. He wondered how soon it would be before she headed to a plastic surgeon. Lillian’s looks were more important to her than even her husband’s money, and that was saying a mouthful.

  She smiled up at him, but he could see the expression didn’t reach her eyes. The same sense of sad defeat that he remembered from the last time they were together was still etched upon her features. Ridge hated her beaten attitude, and he couldn’t help but compare her sourness to Geraldine Saddler’s optimistic warmth.

  “This is quite a surprise, Mother. Have you been here long?”

  “Only a few minutes. I tried ringing your cell, but you must have turned it off.”

  Since he wasn’t on hospital call tonight, Ridge had indeed turned off the cell phone. He’d not been in the mood to talk to anyone. But it looked as though his mother had changed his plans for a quiet evening.

  “Would you like something to eat or drink?” he offered.

  Her manicured fingers fiddled absently with the chunky gold necklace draped against the oyster silk blouse she was wearing. On the outside she was still a beautiful woman, but what really mattered to him was the inside. He’d often sought and hoped to find a measure of compassion in his mother. It was there, deep down in a place where she would let no one see. Not even him.

  The corners of her lips turned downward as she glanced around the modest living room. “I don’t suppose you have any Scotch.”

  “No. But I do have some chilled beer,” he said.

  “Beer! That’s a blue-collar drink, Ridge. Don’t tell me this place has already made your standards sink.”

  There used to be a time that Lillian’s snide remarks would bring his temper to the boiling point. But down through the years he’d realized getting angry with her was pointless. Now she simply left him feeling weary.

  “I’ve been drinking beer for years, Mother. It’s my spirit of choice.” Actually, he had a bottle of wine and another bottle of tequila stored away in the kitchen just in case he wanted to offer a guest a margarita or a glass of Chardonnay. But his mother didn’t need the alcohol. She seemed to be perfectly sober at the moment and he didn’t want to risk sending her off on a binge. “I’ll just make us some coffee. Would you like to come into the kitchen with me? Or stay where you are?”

  “I’ll come with you. Just in case that mongrel decides to jump on me.” She rose to her feet and brushed the seat of her slacks as though she expected dirt and dog hair to fall to the floor. “I didn’t realize you even owned a dog.”

  He took her by the arm and escorted her toward the kitchen. “I’ve told you about him. You probably weren’t listening.”

  “Oh, Ridge,” she scolded in a sugary drawl. “You know your mother has lots of things on her mind. I can’t remember everything you tell me.”

  In the kitchen he pulled out a chair for her at the small dinette and, after getting her settled, went to work making a pot of coffee. Once it was dripping, he walked over to where she sat and rested a hip against the table’s edge. Across the room Enoch was curled into a large, furry ball, pretending to be asleep, but Ridge could see one of the dog’s eyes was cracked and carefully watching Lillian’s movements.

  “You told me you would never come to this place, Mom. What changed your mind?”

  Crossing her legs, she smoothed the material of her slacks over her knee. “To be honest, I gave up on you. I thought I could wait you out and you’d soon return to Houston. Now I realize more drastic measures are needed.”

  His brows lifted with sardonic disbelief. “To get me to return to Houston? Drastic won’t do it. Nothing will. This is my home now. I’ve told you that.”

  Her toe tapped the air in a frustrated rhythm. “You haven’t even asked about your father,” she said with a hint of censure. “Don’t you care about him?”

  Ridge felt everything in him tighten into a defensive stance. “I used to care, Mother. When I was six, seven, even ten years old, I cared about the man. I would have given my right arm for one hour of his attention. Now I simply think of him and wonder about the wasteful choices he’s made in his life.”

  Lillian’s gaze darted away from her son and he realized she didn’t want him to see the shadows of regret on her face. “Oh, Ridge,” she said in a small, plaintive voice, “do you always have to analyze everyone? People are human. We make mistakes. And I’m sure your father is aware that he’s made a few.”

  Ridge’s cynical laugh followed him as he walked back to the counter and poured two mugs of coffee. “Let’s not discuss the old man, Mother. I’m not up to it tonight.”

  Back at the table he placed the coffee in front of her, along with cream, sugar and a teaspoon.

  While she doctored the drink with both condiments, she studied her son with a keen eye. “You do look drained, dear. Have a bad day?”

  No, he’d just gone through the worst week of his life, he thought. He couldn’t eat. Sleep came to him in fitful dozes and his mind was a useless pool of misery. Ridge understood he had to hold on to his faith and remind himself that things would get better, but he wondered where he could possibly look for the light that Nicolette had taken away. How could he get it—and her—back?

  “Things have been…stressful here lately. I’ll be all right.” He sank into the chair opposite hers. “What do you think of my house?”

  Ridge realized asking the question was the same as asking to be beaten with a baseball bat, but he’d never been one to tiptoe around his mother, and he wasn’t about to start now.

  “Well, I took a look around the rooms before you got home.” She shot him a helpless look as she lifted the coffee mug to her lips. “I suppose it’s okay for a hunting cabin. But really, Ridge, you don’t expect to continue to live here like this. It’s a common farmhouse, and an old one at that!”

  “I’m not a hunter, Mom. I’m a rancher. This is just the sort of place I need to get a herd started.”

  Clutching her coffee mug, Lillian rolled her eyes with obvious disgust. “A rancher! Cows and horses! I’ve heard that stuff from you since you were a little boy. And I blame Barry for this ridiculous obsession you have to be a cowboy. I should
never have allowed you to become friends with him in the first place. The Macons didn’t understand your upbringing. They’re the sort of people who just do whatever they can to get by in the world. You, on the other hand, have a calling.”

  His nostrils flaring with disgust, he said, “You couldn’t have stopped me from spending time with the Macons. Barry is like my brother. A brother I should have had but didn’t.”

  She looked away from him, and just for a split second Ridge thought he’d glimpsed remorse on her face. Hell, he must be in such a desolate state of mind he was starting to get delusional. He’d never seen his mother remorseful over anything.

  “Barry was a bad influence,” she went on, but her voice softened just a tad. “Your birthright was to be a doctor and nothing else. Certainly not a man who gets manure on his hands!”

  “Doctors do have lives outside of the clinic,” he said dryly. At least, he’d had one until Nicolette had turned his world upside down. He missed her so much his body literally ached. “But I can see that’s something you haven’t realized yet.”

  Lillian looked at him sharply and opened her mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it. After a couple sips of coffee she changed the subject completely. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me the other day. About the woman you’ve met.”

  Ridge hoped the pain in his heart wasn’t written on his face. He wasn’t about to tell his mother that Nicolette had dumped him. Lillian’s triumph would simply be too much for him to take. Besides, he wasn’t going to roll over and forget the woman he loved. Somehow, some way, he was going to bring them back together.

  Cautiously he asked, “And what have you been thinking? I hope you’re happy for me.”

  “Happy?” she practically shrieked, then, clutching her throat with her hand, she let out a mocking laugh. “Ridge, you can’t be serious. Do you honestly think your father and I had our dreams set on you marrying a divorcee? It’s downright scandalous. And you surely knew that we’d see it that way before you ever started the relationship. But you probably didn’t give a damn. You never do.”

  Ridge simply stared at her and waited for her to get the tirade out of her system.

  “Well?” she eventually prodded. “Don’t you have anything to say for yourself? Please tell me that you’ve changed your mind about this woman. I can’t imagine inviting my friends to the wedding. They’d all be whispering behind their hands, laughing at me. Especially when they know you could have any Houston debutante you laid your eyes on. But, oh no, that would be too right, too easy for you. You’ve got to buck tradition no matter who it hurts.” Bending her head, she pretended to be fighting off tears. “You’re my only child, Ridge. I’ve always dreamed of seeing you married in a splendid ceremony to a woman with an old, respected name.”

  Rising from the table, Ridge walked over to the sink and poured the dregs of his coffee down the drain.

  With his back to his mother he said, “I’ve always dreamed about marrying a woman I love. But I guess that’s a novel idea for you and Father.”

  She gasped. “Ridge!”

  Turning, he leveled a look on her that was too fierce for her to ignore. “Listen closely, Mother, because I’m not going to say this again. Nothing and no one is going to make me return to Houston.”

  Rising to her feet, Lillian rushed over to him. “But, Ridge, your father’s practice is—”

  “I would give up being a doctor completely before I’d work in his office! Richard Garroway is a selfish adulterer! Why don’t you face up to the fact that he doesn’t care anything about you or me? He never has.” He slashed a hand through the air. “Oh, he cares about appearances and how he can use them to his advantage, but that’s where his caring stops. And if you ever decide you want something real in your life, you’ll get out of this farce you call a marriage!”

  Lillian stared at him in utter shock and then her whole presence appeared to crumble. Tears filled her eyes, but this time Ridge could see that they were real rather than crocodile. He felt bad about his outburst, but she couldn’t keep living in denial and smothering her pain and loneliness with cocktails.

  “Ridge. Ridge. You don’t understand,” she muttered miserably. “Don’t you think I know about Richard? That I’ve known about his philandering for years?”

  Ridge looked at her with faint surprise. “Then why didn’t you do something about it?”

  Her head wagged slowly back and forth in defeat. “Because I didn’t have the courage. It was easier for me to pretend that everything was okay. But deep down I knew everything was really broken. Richard only married me because of my family’s money. I’m sure you’ve already figured that out for yourself. And afterward, well, I was so young and impressionable. I liked having a handsome husband with a brilliant career. It was so much more than most of my friends had, or so I believed all those years ago. Over the years I’ve begun to see it was really…so much less. I try so hard to pretend that everything is lovely—that’s why I have to have the alcohol, to be able to forget, to be able to pretend. But most of the time—when I’m alone and sober as I am now—I feel like my life is over.”

  Seeing the awful pain exposed on her face, Ridge put his arm around her shoulders and drew her to him. “Oh, Mother, I love you. Surely you’ve always known that, too. And I want you to have a happy life. A real life. That will never happen unless you find the courage to make a move.”

  “A move—oh, my son,” she said in a choked voice. “It’s too late for that.”

  He lifted her chin with his forefinger and gave her a soft smile of encouragement. “You’re only fifty-three years old, Mom. That’s still very young. You have plenty of time to start over. And there are lots of men out there willing to marry a divorcee if he believes she’ll make him happy.”

  Easing her cheek away from his chest, she looked up and tried to smile through her tears. “You make it sound so easy. But it isn’t, Ridge. Not when you’re afraid to try again. And for so many years your father has controlled me. I don’t know how to do anything. I never tried to do anything on my own because your father refused to let me. He always said I was his queen and I wasn’t to lift a hand. But I finally figured out that was only Richard’s charming way of keeping me under his thumb.”

  Just hearing his mother admit that she had problems felt like a miracle, and Ridge squeezed her shoulders with hopeful support. Maybe this would be the turning point that he’d often prayed his mother would come to.

  “Just promise me that you’ll try, Mom. And I’ll be here for you. Okay?”

  Too choked to speak, she nodded and wiped at the tears that were now smearing her mascara. Ridge handed her a napkin and as she wiped at her eyes, he said, “When you were looking around the house, you probably noticed, I have two extra bedrooms. I’d really like for you to spend the night. Will you?”

  Lillian let out a shaky laugh. “Well, why not? When I was a little girl I used to wonder what it would be like to stay on a ranch. Tonight I’m finally going to find out.”

  Three days later Sunday settled over the Sandbur with a steamy heat that was only relieved by a lazy breeze that bothered to drift now and then over the quiet ranch yard. Nicolette spent most of the day in her bedroom, going through the motions of trying to rest and read, but never succeeding at either.

  More than two weeks had passed since she’d run like a scared, wounded animal from Ridge’s house. For the first few days she’d licked her wounds and told herself she deserved the pain. She’d been stupid for allowing herself to get that close to danger. But she’d been charmed and lonely and she’d believed she could enjoy being with him without getting hurt.

  How stupid could she have been? Did she really think she could fall into his arms, be in his bed and not fall in love with him?

  Groaning with misery, Nicolette stared out her bedroom window. All was quiet and serene beneath the arms of the spreading live oaks. Songbirds flittered from the grass to the trees while two yellow cur dogs slept i
n the heat of the evening.

  The peaceful scene was a huge contrast to the turmoil in her heart and, as she’d done a thousand times these past few days, she wondered what she could do, how she could change this misery she’d brought on herself.

  She’d not told any of her family about her broken relationship with Ridge. For one thing she doubted they could understand the full extent of her misery. Not without knowing the utter, complete love she felt for the man. And what would be the use of admitting that to anyone, she asked herself, when she’d already ruined everything between the two of them.

  Her restless heart pushed her around the room until she was practically pacing. Maybe if she talked to her sister, she could make sense of this misery she was going through, Nicolette thought. But Mercedes was stationed on the tiny island of Diego Garcia in the Indian Ocean. Her duties with the Air Force were secret at the moment, and it was an ordeal to make phone connections with her. Crying on Mercedes’s shoulder was impossible right now.

  Juliet, her cousin Matt’s wife, was a good listener and Nicolette loved the other woman deeply. But Juliet and Matt were practically newlyweds and their love for each other was so obvious it was almost painful for Nicolette to see. Plus Juliet was pregnant, something that Nicolette had so ardently wanted for herself. No, talking to Juliet would only remind Nicolette of everything she was losing with Ridge, and that was the last thing she needed to lift her out of this black cloud.

  Feeling boxed in by the walls of her room and her own wretchedness, Nicolette went out to the kitchen.