Divine Phoenix [Divine Creek Ranch 10] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Heather Rainier

  “Let the insurance companies duke it out.”

  Lily lay back against the pillow on the elevated head of the bed and sighed heavily. “I’m out of his clutches. I really am.” Heat traveled up to her cheeks and tears filled her eyes. She felt like a ninny all over again. It seemed like all she did was cry all over him. “But this lasts only as long as I’m incapacitated. I’m out of your hair as soon as I get the approval of Doctor Guthrie.”

  “You know Emma?” Clay asked with a surprised look on his face.

  “No, Doctor Burns suggested I see her. Why?” It was on the tip of her tongue to ask how he knew Doctor Guthrie on a first name basis, but it wasn’t any of her business.

  “She was the first medical professional on the scene at your accident.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I helped her.”

  Lily worried for a moment that Clay might have been there when she was examined. He might have seen the tattoo. But if he had, he would’ve known what JT meant earlier.

  “Then I’m glad he referred me to her. I’m really sorry about damaging your building. All I could think was…” I needed someone safe, someone familiar. I needed you.

  “What, Lily?”

  “I was glad that not everything in Divine had changed completely, that there was still someone here that knew me.”

  Clay’s smile filled her vision as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. “It took a lot of years but you’re home now.” He lingered there perhaps a breath longer than a friendly peck would dictate, and she breathed in his clean, manly scent. The soft stroke of his lips on her skin was comforting and disconcerting all in the same moment.

  “It’s good to be home, Clay.”

  “I have to get to the shop. You focus on resting and I’ll check on you later today.”

  Lily pressed the button to lower the head of the bed and got comfortable. Clay winked before he slipped out of the door, and Lily was surprised that a blush heated her cheeks. This was so foreign to her, to be flirted with like that. Would any of it ever feel normal again?

  * * * *

  Wednesday afternoon, Lily was released from the hospital. She refused adamantly when he tried to lift her into his gray Ford F-150, but allowed him to help her when she saw that her refusal irked him a bit.

  The scent of leather surrounded her, and she felt like a poor, pitiful relation looking around the luxurious, clean interior of the truck. She wondered again at his generosity. Twenty-six years had slipped by without a word of communication between them and they’d picked back up like they’d hardly been apart.

  Lily was mortified when they drove past his parents’ old place and she realized she had yet to ask about them. When she apologized, Clay waved it off. “Mom passed away in 1998 from a massive heart attack. Never knew what hit her. She was healthy as a horse until the day she died. We agreed that was the way she would’ve wanted it. To not be a burden or linger. Dad died in 2004. He had a nasty fall and got pneumonia later that winter. With his asthma, it was more than he could shake off. We were both with him to the end and nothing was left unsaid.”

  Lily smiled, thinking that in the Cook family that had never been a problem. They had always been loving, demonstrative folks.

  “Have you heard from Del?”

  “Not recently but he was talking about retiring from that private military company. I’m hoping he’ll be home sometime soon. His ranch is in need of attention.”

  “He owns a ranch?”

  “Yeah. Out past the river bridge on FM 709. It’s a little place. We inherited it from one of our great-aunts. I wasn’t interested in working it so he bought me out and I got my own house in town.”

  “Your Aunt…”

  “Delbertine,” Clay supplied with a smirk. “She was close to Mom. Remember those little outfits she used to crochet out of that scratchy yarn that we had to wear every Easter?”

  Lily laughed, remembering the sight of Clay and his brother, who was named Delbert after his mother’s favorite aunt, in their little handmade, itchy sailor suits. “It was nice of her to leave you both the ranch, to make up for the embarrassment.”

  “I still have the pictures of us in those outfits somewhere.”

  “Dad saved all of my baby pictures, too. They’re in one of my boxes. I’m sure I have some with the two of you in them. Oh! I remember this street! That oak tree has gotten huge! The house should be—Oh…boy.”

  “Oh, man,” Clay murmured as he turned onto the driveway and parked in front of the garage. They both sat staring.

  “It’s much smaller than I remembered.”

  Her father had told her that the house had seen a succession of renters over the last three decades. A local Realtor had oversight of the property until the last time it was occupied, which was several years before. It had sat vacant since then. She removed the key from her handbag and looked over at Clay. “This does not look like a do-it-yourself project, does it?”

  Clay smiled and said, “Doesn’t matter what we find, Lily. You have a safe place to live. Whatever shape it’s in, we’ll see it through. Sit tight for a second.”

  He climbed from the truck, and this time she let him help her out without comment. The driveway was cracked and in desperate need of resurfacing. The front deck on the ranch-style house had an odd tilt to it. Every surface was cloaked with turning leaves from the pecan trees and cedar elms surrounding the house. The sun sparkled down through the remaining leaves on the trees. Several of the windows were missing their screens, which wasn’t encouraging. The only other houses were several lots down on either side on this sparsely populated street on the edge of town. Teenagers or vagrants might have made use of the house in the past.

  Clay tested the deck and declared it safe to step on. She inserted the key in the lock, which seemed solid enough, and pushed the door open. She pressed her lips together, braced for disaster. A gust of stale air carried the odor of disuse.

  Clay poked his head in the door and echoed her earlier sentiment. “Oh, boy.”

  They stepped inside and spent the next few minutes inspecting the house, room by room. There were roof leaks in the living room and bathroom. It seemed vagrants had used the house at some point as a refuge from the elements but hadn’t done any irreparable damage. There was evidence that squirrels and other critters had somehow found an entrance into the house. All of the carpeting and vinyl were many years past their useful lives, and the rooms were all painted an odd conglomeration of outdated colors. The house had a strong musty odor from being closed up and not lived in for so many years. She could only imagine what shape the air-conditioning and heating system was in.

  Clay gave her a sympathetic look and wrapped his arm around her, tucking her against his side. “Look on the bright side, Lil. There aren’t any gaping holes in the roof, there aren’t any squatters to contend with, and we haven’t heard any banjoes play yet.”

  Lily smiled at his lame humor and poked him in the ribs. The vibration of his deep voice in his chest did funny things to her insides. She couldn’t have put it into words right then, but she liked being held that way. It was comforting and safe. She could come to crave it if she wasn’t careful.

  Stepping in the tiny bedroom that had been hers, she said, “I remember this room being huge.” She opened the closet and stroked the inside of the door where she had scratched her initials one day when she’d been bored. She remembered the hanger bar being completely out of her reach, but it was now at chest level.

  She took another walk through the house, noticing several soft spots in the floor. She suspected the water damage from the leaks had caused the wood floor beneath the carpeting to rot.

  “I’m in over my head. It’s not as bad as it could’ve been. But…I can’t live here. I’ll need a contractor to fix everything to make it livable. I don’t have the money for this…I’m basically homeless.”

  “Wrong. My house is home for now.”

  Disbelieving, Lily turned to him.
“This is so far out of my ability to finance. You’d have a roommate for years, not weeks.”

  Clay stood in front of her, big and solid, and placed his hands on her shoulders and gently squeezed before stroking her long hair back from her neck. “Don’t give up yet, Lily. You’ve got a job and you might be able to secure financing. You never know when your luck might turn. I’m going to take a look in the attic. I’ll be right back.” Watching him walk away, she really wanted believe him. The hope growing inside her felt altogether foreign.

  She was grateful he was with her. She would’ve had no idea what to look for in the attic. She supposed the first step was having someone check the wiring and the heating and cooling system. The ancient appliances looked ready for the junkyard.

  Looking out of a filmy bedroom window, she remembered standing in that spot, watching for Clay and Del to show up on their bicycles to go play in the neighborhood. The years slipped away and memories assailed her. Gathering pecans in the yard with her mom, helping weed flowerbeds, looking forward to a bigger-girl bike. As a seventh grader she’d had every belief and intention of growing up in this house, but it hadn’t worked out that way.

  She made a beeline to the backdoor and had to shove it open because it had stuck. She placed her hand over the incision site when it twinged. The overgrown yard was empty. The rosebushes her mom had loved were gone, along with the flower beds they’d built. She remembered helping her mom out here when she’d pruned those bushes. Lily had always cringed, watching her mom cut them back to almost nothing, then had marveled each time the roses came back more vibrant and beautiful than before. No sign of the roses remained.

  When they’d moved, it had been in a big hurry. Her dad had landed a big job in the oil fields in South Texas, and they’d had to move fast in order for him to start the job on time. Lily remembered crying for days. They’d stopped by the Cooks’ house, but they’d been away on a family vacation. They’d been in a hurry, and her dad didn’t know what their mailing address would be, so she had to leave a note to tell them she would write to them.

  She’d done a good job of keeping in touch, sending letters and pictures, but as the years went by more time elapsed between the correspondences. Before she knew it, time had gotten away and a month and then a year had gone by with no communication.

  Clay and his brother had occupied her thoughts often over the years, and she’d thought several times of writing to them to reestablish the connection. But she’d gone to college part-time and gotten a job, and soon so many years had gone by that she’d been embarrassed to reach out to them.

  They had no other family in Divine and so no reason to ever return. The Realtor had sent a rental check for the house like clockwork and handled all maintenance issues for them. She’d always wondered what her parents had done with the house and now she knew.

  “You’re going to need an electrician to look at the wiring,” Clay said from directly behind her. She jumped in fright and the incision throbbed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me walk in. You okay? You look sad.”

  Self-consciously, Lily crossed her arms over her chest and felt the heated blush rise in her cheeks. “I wasn’t a very good friend to you and Del. I should’ve tried harder to stay in touch. I’ll bet you thought I didn’t care about you.”

  Clay let out a heavy sigh and turned her so she faced him. “Lily, we were seventh graders. When they left, you had to go with them. We missed you for a long time, but we didn’t hold it against you. We weren’t any better about keeping in touch than you were. So don’t blame yourself.”

  “I never had friends as good as the two of you.”

  Stroking her cheekbones lightly, he replied, “That doesn’t make me happy to hear it. You still had years of your childhood ahead of you.”

  Lily shook her head and shrugged. “I got by. What did you find?”

  “Your squirrel’s hoard of empty pecan shells, and unfortunately, evidence that they’ve chewed on the wiring up there.”

  “Shoot. I guess I need to make a list.”

  “Come on. We’ve seen everything we need to see. You can work on the list at home while you relax.”

  Lily nodded and followed him out. While she locked the door, Clay picked up some pecans lying in the front yard and said, “You always had good pecan trees.”

  “Grab a bunch,” she said, and then snickered. “I’ll crack your nuts at the house.”

  It felt good to laugh as Clay cringed and grabbed his crotch in a completely juvenile gesture that would’ve made any seventh grade boy proud.

  Chapter Five

  Lily smiled when Clay pulled the truck up in front of his ranch-style house. It was a typical bachelor pad. Lived in, but clean and well maintained. Not a plant or bush or bit of color in sight. She took a closer look as Clay climbed from the truck and saw an interesting statue on the covered front porch.

  “Ready to see your new home?”

  “Yeah. Clay, you’re sure?”

  “I’m positive. Let’s get you settled inside. It’s nearly supper time.”

  The wind buffeted the leaves around the yard as he helped her from the truck. His gentlemanly conduct shouldn’t have taken her by surprise. Clay and Del’s parents had taught them good manners. Twelve years of disregard by her husband was going to take a while to undo. As they approached the house, she stopped to take in the burnished bronze sculpture on the porch. It was a fanciful rendition of a mythical phoenix bird, rising from a fiery nest of flames.

  “Wow.”

  “Not what you were expecting?”

  “Actually, I would’ve expected a Western sculpture of a cowboy or horse or something more…”

  “Masculine?” he asked with a guarded tone.

  She swung her head sharply to look at him, arching an eyebrow. “That’s so not the word I was looking for. There’s nothing remotely ‘girly’ about this creation. I meant something more in keeping with the surroundings. Texan. Western.” At his nod she continued. “That is a decidedly triumphant portrayal.”

  The words surprised her as they came from her mouth. She hadn’t given any thought to art, sculpture, or visually pleasing objects in…forever. In college, she’d studied art and had a budding portrait photography business that had kept her in spending money and taken some of the burden off her parents. It had never gone anywhere, but she’d always enjoyed working with subjects and composing pictures. This statue was a work of art, and she almost couldn’t believe he’d left it on his porch.

  Caressing the hip-high statue she asked, “Is this bronze?”

  “Yes,” he replied as he unlocked the front door. He looked back at her and seemed focused on the way she stroked the statue, some indefinable emotion in his eyes before he lowered his lids and turned away. His gaze made her insides warm up and she was reminded that when she crossed that threshold she was officially the roommate of a desirable, creative, very masculine man.

  “Why is it on your front porch? It’s magnificent. Where did you get it?”

  A crooked, but obviously pleased, smile crossed his lips as he hung his keys on the hook by the door. “I sculpted it. It’s one I did a couple of years ago. It seems to fit out here and the thing is so damned heavy nobody would want to steal it. If you like it that much I’ll move it inside. You can even have it, for your new home if you want it.”

  She couldn’t help but gawk at him as she stepped over the threshold. “Really? I can?”

  “Sure. Consider it your housewarming gift.”

  “But it must’ve taken a long time to create. It’s probably very valuable. I don’t want to…”

  Clay shrugged. “I can see that you really like it, so as it turns out, I made it for you. I always wondered why I created such a fantasy-oriented piece. It was for you, no strings attached.” The satisfied look on his face told her that he’d made up his mind about it.

  No strings attached. When was the last time Lily had received a kindness from anyone but her father with n
o strings attached? She pressed her lips together and put her hand over her mouth, resisting the urge to cry as he held out his arms, a soft, commiserating smile on his face. The look in his eyes changed to gentle concern as she went into his embrace.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured against her hair as she struggled with her emotions. His deep, comforting voice made her want to stay in his arms for…a year.

  She’d already cried all over him several times in the last few days and was determined to get beyond this stage in her recovery. He undermined her attempts at sucking it up with that gentle look in his eyes and his stealthy flirtatious ways. Lily imagined that any woman would be putty in his hands. That thought brought the tattoo to mind, and he allowed it when she drew away from him.

  “Your things are all in the spare bedroom. Let me show you your room.” Clay led the way through the open, spacious living room, decorated in dark, masculine shades of red and brown. The leather couches and loveseat looked comfortable, as did the big, overstuffed rocker recliner in the corner by the fireplace. She would probably feel as small as a child sinking down into that thing.

  Down a hallway he pointed out the bathroom and linen closet. “Unfortunately, we’ll be sharing a bathroom. I hope that’s okay.”

  “It’s fine with me. Just let me know if you ever have any overnight…um…you know.”

  Clay gave her a confused smile. “What?”

  Lily averted her eyes and cursed the heat she felt climbing up her throat to her cheeks. “You know. Any overnight guests. I don’t want to intrude on your…social life.”

  Clay snorted. “Lily, I’m not dating anyone right now. Not really much of a social butterfly. My overnight dates usually involve the stereo and a big lump of wet clay.” He flicked on a light switch so she could see into the room he gestured to.

  “Oh! Is this your sculpting studio?” The room was located in the corner of the house and had large windows on two walls. It would be the perfect place to work in the morning hours.