Stay...

by ALLISON LEIGH,

“Yeah,” she took two of the champagne flutes in hand and headed for the kitchen. “Maggie, Joe and Jaimie are joining us.” She stopped and looked over her shoulder. “That’s okay with you isn’t it?” She waggled one of the glasses. “We are celebrating, after all. I’d have invited the hands, too, except Maggie talked me out of it.”

  “Wouldn’t have mattered,” Matthew murmured. “The work’s all done and everybody cut out this afternoon. Until spring, it’s just us and the Greenes.”

  “And Jaimie, too, don’t forget.” Emily stifled a chuckle when Matthew’s expression grew dark. “Bring the rest of the glasses, would you?”

  He did. But when the sound of voices floated into the kitchen from the mudroom, he grumbled something and stomped out.

  Joe walked into the kitchen first, followed by Maggie, then Jaimie. Maggie held out a basket filled with summer flowers. “Here. I’m growing these out behind the house and thought you’d enjoy some, too.”

  “Oh, Maggie, they’re beautiful. What a wonderful green thumb you must have.” Emily set down the last of the champagne flutes and took the basket, burying her nose in the fragrant blooms. “Joe, I think there’s a pool game going on in the basement, if you want to check it out.”

  Typically quiet, Joe plunked his dusty cowboy hat on an empty peg by the door and with a nod, clumped out of the kitchen.

  Maggie watched him go, her expression hidden behind veiled lashes. Jaimie broke the vaguely awkward silence by asking Emily if she had a vase for the flowers.

  Quickly Emily went back into the dining room and retrieved a vase. She set it on the kitchen table, and Jaimie began arranging the flowers. “You don’t mind, do you?” she asked.

  “Lord, no,” Emily waved her on. “Have at it.” She headed for the refrigerator, pulling a chair out from the table as she did so. “Maggie, sit down and relax. I take it you’re feeling better?”

  Maggie smiled faintly and sat down. She picked a daisy out of the basket and pinched off a browning leaf on the otherwise perfect specimen. “A bit,” she said, handing the flower to Jaimie. “Fill in between the dahlias,” she suggested. “Today has been my worst day yet. Just yesterday I visited my obstetrician. And that man had the nerve to tell me that morning sickness was all in the head. I’d have liked to have heard him tell me that while I was lying on the bathroom floor all morning. I’d have happily vomited on his wing tips.”

  Emily’s eyebrows shot up. “That bad, huh?”

  Jaimie nodded. “Made me wonder about wanting to get pregnant, I can tell you.” She shuddered delicately and after a moment’s consideration, added another flower to the arrangement.

  Maggie laughed softly. She laid her palm on her as-yet-flat abdomen. “When you want a baby so badly you can’t think straight, you’ll endure anything. Even worshipping the porcelain goddess ten times a day.”

  Jaimie arched her eyebrows. “If you say so,” she said.

  “I can’t imagine anything more wonderful than carrying the child of the man you love,” Emily murmured, then felt her cheeks fire. It wouldn’t solve a thing if she’d conceived last night. But it would be a blessing all the same.

  “Spoken like a woman in love,” Jaimie teased gently. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

  Emily’s flush crept toward the roots of her hair. “It was just an observation,” she said hurriedly. “Jaimie, you really have an eye for floral arranging. Have you taken classes or something?”

  Maggie giggled. Jaimie looked at the lopsided bouquet and chuckled.

  “Oh.” Emily bit her lip as she really looked at the arrangement. “Perhaps a few flowers on the other side,” she suggested.

  In moments, all three women were giggling.

  Daniel poked his head into the room. “You cooking supper in here? Or goofing off?”

  Emily picked up the now-balanced vase and added water. “Put yourself to use and put this on the sideboard.” She pushed the vase into his hands.

  “Bossy little snot,” he complained.

  “Just put it on the table,” she waved him toward the dining room. “We’ll eat in about twenty minutes.”

  “Good. That’ll give me enough time to win back my twenty bucks from Jefferson.”

  “You mean you actually lost money in a pool game?”

  “Disgraceful, ain’t it?” He leaned in the doorway, devilmay-care good looks stamped over his smiling face. “Jaimie, you’re looking particularly lovely tonight.”

  Jaimie returned his grin, full measure. “And you’re sounding particularly full of it tonight, Daniel.”

  His smile widened. “It’s always a pleasure to have three beautiful women gracing our humble kitchen. What more could we ask for? We have a petite brunette. A leggy redhead—” he cocked his head Jaimie’s direction “—and an angelic blonde,” he added, turning his attention to Maggie. “How’s our little mama doing?” he asked lightly.

  Maggie’s slender fingers scattered the little pile of discarded leaves they’d just been collecting. “Fine,” she answered abruptly.

  Jaimie glided over to slip her arm through Daniel’s and guide him out of the kitchen. “Get rid of that vase, Daniel Clay, and give me a five-minute lesson on how to become a pool shark.”

  They could hear her musical laughter as Daniel led her to the basement.

  “I’m so glad that Squire is coming home tomorrow,” Maggie said. “We’ve all been concerned for him. I imagine he’ll be happy to get home. He doesn’t strike me as the type of man to take kindly to hospital life.”

  Emily smiled and nodded, but her mind was on the look in Daniel’s eyes when he’d been looking at Maggie. The buzzer on the oven timer sounded and she shook off her vague disquiet as she checked the bubbling lasagna. “This has a few more minutes,” she decided. “Why don’t we go down and see if Daniel has any luck winning his money back.”

  “Sure.”

  They headed through the dining room to the stairs leading down to the basement. “How long have you and Joe been married?”

  “Ten years.”

  Surprised, Emily looked at Maggie. “You’re kidding! You must have been a teenager when you got married.”

  The other woman shrugged, smiling faintly. “Seventeen and fresh out of high school. Joe came along and swept me right off my feet.”

  A raucous cheer floated up the stairwell. “Sounds like they’re taking sides,” Emily said. “When I was seventeen, I was attending boarding school in New Hampshire.” She looked up toward Maggie, who was following her down the stairs. “I hated it,” she confided lightly. “I wanted to be home with Squire and the boys. Calving and haying and all that was much more to my liking than learning how to waltz and speak French.”

  Tristan heard the last of her comment and hooked his arm around her waist to swing her into the room. “You can’t speak French.”

  “And you can’t waltz,” she tossed back as he stepped on her toe. “Let me go, you nutball.”

  George Strait was singing from the sound system and Tristan handed Emily off to Matthew, who took over. “I can waltz,” Matthew assured her. “Mom taught me.”

  “You mean she gave up trying to teach you,” Daniel corrected, taking Emily into his arms.

  “I thought you were trying to win back your money,” Emily protested, getting dizzy with all the whirling about.

  “Darlin’, I already did,” he said with a grin. “Plus another twenty from old Sawyer, there.”

  “Who’re you calling old.” Sawyer adeptly took Emily into his arms. He swept her into a graceful waltz.

  Emily breathed a sigh of relief and smiled up at Sawyer. “Now here’s a man who can truly waltz,” she pronounced.

  Jefferson propped the end of his pool cue on the floor and watched Emily gracefully revolve around the huge wood-paneled room. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Tristan reached past Jefferson to pull a cue from the rack hanging on the wall. “Looks like it’s your turn to dance with Emily,” he said.

  Jefferson reached for t
he little cube of chalk. “Shut up.”

  Daniel changed the CD and Jimmy Buffett started singing about Margaritaville.

  “Hey,” Emily protested. “You can’t waltz properly to this.”

  Sawyer simply picked up his pace, until Emily begged off, laughing. “Give someone else a chance.”

  His eyes smiling, Sawyer turned to Jaimie and swung her into a lively round.

  Emily plopped down onto one of the long leather couches dotting the perimeter of the big square room. She watched Jefferson use the tip of his cue to gesture to a corner pocket. Tristan shook his head and Jefferson shrugged. Tristan drew out his wallet and plunked a bill down on the side of the pool table. Joe laughed and added his own bill to the pile.

  Jefferson took aim and sank the ball, grinning as he pocketed the money.

  The soft leather whooshed when Maggie settled her lithe body beside Emily. “You have a nice family,” she said.

  “I think so, too,” Emily agreed, dragging her eyes from watching Jefferson too avidly. She noticed Matthew was following the progress of Jaimie and Sawyer around the floor. “Matthew seems to have eyes for your sister-in-law.”

  “They do nothing but argue. They started arguing the day they met last year, and they haven’t stopped since.” She watched the pair dancing. “I haven’t danced in ages,” she murmured absently.

  As if he’d heard, Sawyer stopped before the couch, depositing Jaimie on the arm. “Maggie?” He held out his hand.

  Rolling her eyes, Maggie brushed off the offer. “Don’t be silly.”

  “Go on, Mags,” Jaimie nudged her shoulder.

  Half laughing, Maggie let Sawyer pull her from the depths of the overstuffed couch. Daniel was messing with the CD again, switching song to song after just a few measures. Sawyer ordered him to stop messing with it. Tristan hooted over another shot Jefferson managed to sink. And Emily leaned her head back, absorbing the sound of it all.

  “Don’t you miss this when you’re in California?” Jaimie asked.

  Emily nodded. “More than I can say.”

  “Why leave then? Surely they could use your help here.”

  Emily shook her head. “Not really.” She pushed herself more upright. “I’m an accountant,” she said. “And Matt doesn’t need an accountant. He handles the books very capably. He sends everything to me to handle the taxes, and that’s it.”

  “Isn’t there anything else around here you’d be able to do, though? It seems a shame to me that you’re not living in the home you obviously love.”

  “I do love the Double-C,” Emily said, nodding. “But it’s the people on it that make it what it is.” She lifted her hand, indicating the crew of men. “The Clay men. We’re just missing Squire to complete the picture, and you’re looking at the people that mean the most to me.” Emily dropped her arm. “This is the first time in years they’ve all been in one place.”

  “They came because of Mr. Clay. How wonderful for support like that.” Jaimie looked at her brother, who was taking his turn sinking a ball.

  “What about your family? Do you have any other brothers? Sisters?”

  “No. Just me and Joe. Our folks…well, my dad had a heart attack when I was twenty. He didn’t make it. Mom followed almost two years to the day later.” Her eyes were still on Joe. “I think she just lost the will after Dad was gone.”

  She blinked and looked back at Emily, the smile back on her face. “Before that, though, they lived in Florida.” She leaned over. “They’d bought a condo at one of those retirement places. You know? Golf carts parked in the streets, no kids allowed. That type of place. It was fine for them. It was exactly what they wanted, but personally, the place would have bored me to tears.” Her toe was tapping to the beat of the song, and Jaimie finally gave in and stood up. “Come on, Joe, dance with me.”

  He made a face, but he took her on a lively romp. After a few moments the song changed and he and Sawyer switched partners. Emily noticed the way Matthew was still watching Jaimie dancing with Sawyer, and she got up. “Mind if I cut in?” Emily asked.

  “Sure.” Jaimie handed over her partner and looked around. Matthew was the only one not occupied with a pool cue. “Well,” Emily heard her say as she wandered over to him. “Are you up to the challenge?”

  Matthew snorted. But, Emily was pleased to see he didn’t turn Jaimie down. Now there were three couples dancing.

  “My turn, I believe.”

  The lilting tune dancing in her head ground to a discordant halt, even though the CD played on smoothly. She suddenly found herself standing in front of Jefferson rather than Sawyer.

  “Chicken?” He murmured for her ears alone.

  Her eyebrow arched. “Hardly.” To prove it, she slid her hand into his. “Are you?” she returned.

  “I’m over here, aren’t I?” He placed his hand on her waist and easily found the beat of the music. “Just dance.” he said softly. “We’ve never done this before.”

  Emily, ordinarily confident on her feet, found herself awkwardly bumping his boots.

  “Relax.” He pulled her closer until her cheek rested on his chest and his breath stirred the hair at her temple.

  Emily’s bones dissolved as she followed his lead. She closed her eyes and savored the first dance of her life with the man she loved. But when he folded their joined hands close to his chest and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, the utterly bittersweet gesture made her want to cry. “I’d better check the lasagna,” she said breathlessly and pulled away.

  Jefferson watched her race up the stairs. He felt chilled where she’d been pressed so warmly against him. Without thinking, he went after her.

  She was standing just inside the kitchen door, her shoulders bowed.

  “Emily?”

  Her shoulders jerked like a marionette on a string. She grabbed up an oven mitt and opened the oven door.

  “It’ll be ready in just a few minutes,” she said. Without looking at him, she slipped the heavy dish onto a trivet. “I just need to finish up the garlic bread.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  She flung the mitt onto the counter. “What’s not wrong?” She brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek. “I can’t pretend that last night didn’t happen, Jefferson. Maybe you can, but I can’t. So if you don’t like the way I’m acting, then stay away from me.”

  “I can’t forget last night, either,” he admitted roughly.

  She snapped a piece of foil from the roll and wrapped the bread to toss it into the oven. “Look, Squire’s coming home tomorrow, and I’ll be leaving soon. Everything will get back to normal. But for now, I’d just like to get through tonight.”

  “You’re going to agree to that stupid job, then.”

  “What else am I supposed to do? I have bills to pay, for crying out loud.”

  “Move back here.”

  “And do what? I wouldn’t have to pay for board for Bird, but my car still needs paying off. I’m not going to live off Squire, you know. I do share expenses with Tristan. I have bills, for Pete’s sake!”

  “Coming home isn’t living off Squire. He wants you back here.”

  Emily took a lemon from the bowl of them on the counter and savagely cut it into wedges. “Squire wants all of us back here.”

  “Not all of us.”

  She looked at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  A muscle ticked in Jefferson’s jaw. “Squire kicked me off the ranch seven years ago,” he said after a long moment.

  “What?” She carefully wiped the knife and stuck it back into its slot in the wooden block. “You’re not serious. You’ve been here since—”

  “Twice. Two days out of seven years. Both times Squire made it abundantly clear that I wasn’t welcome.”

  “No. Squire would never—” Disbelief clouded her eyes. “Why?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it matters! I was here both times you were—” Her mind whirled. “Oh, my God, it’s because of me?” She
sank into a chair. “I know the times you’ve been here, because I was here when you arrived. Why would he do that to you?”

  “He was protecting you.”

  “From what? His own son?” She felt nauseous. “I can’t believe this.”

  “He was right.”

  “He was wrong,” Emily wrapped her arms around her middle. “You’re his son! How can he treat his own flesh and blood that way?”

  “You’re the little girl he adored. He knew, sooner or later, that I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you, and he wanted to make sure it never happened.”

  “That’s why you didn’t want to come back to the house last night,” she realized aloud. “But I was still in school seven years ago. You hadn’t even lived here for years yourself! What good did he think barring you from your home would do?”

  “I don’t know that Squire was thinking logically at the time,” Jefferson murmured with severe understatement. Squire had been beside himself with anger when Jefferson had confided in his father that his feelings for Emily had been more than brotherly. He’d needed his father’s advice. But had received his father’s wrath. “It really doesn’t matter, anymore. This is Squire’s house. He has the right to run it how he sees fit.”

  She bounced to her feet. “That’s ludicrous. He had no right. No right, you hear me? And I’m going to tell him so the minute I see him!”

  “No.”

  “No? Listen up, bub, if I want to tell Squire, I’ll tell him! And you ordering me around isn’t going to work.”

  “I’m not trying to order you around. And I also don’t need you to fight my fights.”

  “Your fight? Seems to me I’m the subject of this fi—”

  “Shh,” he whispered as he dropped a hard kiss on her lips. “You can’t bring this up with Squire. He’s not supposed to have any undue stress right now.”

  Emily raked her fingers through her hair. Jefferson was right, as usual. “It just makes no sense.”

  “Hey, are we going to eat or not?” Tristan skidded into the room. “Whoops. ’Scuse me.” He left just as abruptly.

  Emily looked at the steaming pan of lasagna. She grabbed the oven mitt and removed the bread from the oven. “We need to eat before it gets cold,” she said. “We’re celebrating, after all.” Her lips twisted. “Isn’t that right?”