by Jillian Neal
“I figured you had. I just wanted you to know if your mama or I can help, we want to.”
Guilt quelled a little of his ire. Tucker Kilroy, Luke’s best friend and the guy marrying Indie’s sister, had already offered his help, and so had his brothers and sisters. Hell, even Indie’s daddy had vowed to do anything he could to help Luke talk Indie into moving back home. He begrudgingly admitted that everyone that had inquired about Indie’s return to the Glen had, in one intrusive way or another, offered their assistance as well. That was the thing about living in a tiny ranching town. Everyone knew everything about everyone else. That was the part Indie hated most, but generally they did all mean well.
“She hates this town, Dad. Not sure what I can do about that.”
“I ‘spect it’s her mama she don’t care for, and it’s the memories of the town that keep her away, son. Given what all of them put her through growing up, and when her mama up and made off with Mayor Jenkins, I can’t say as I blame her. Maybe you could show her that most everyone’s over the affair and that all those kids that were so cruel to her have grown up as well.”
Chapter Two
“Indie!” squealed from her sisters as soon as she exited her car in the driveway of her mother’s home. They rushed to her, sweeping her up in an odd dance of hugs and excitement. Indie squeezed Melony and Miranda for all she was worth. Yep. Coming home was definitely a good idea.
“I’m so excited you’re here!” Melony continued to gush.
“Yeah, well, I still can’t believe you’re actually gonna up and marry Tucker Kilroy.” Indie grabbed her sister’s hand to inspect the engagement ring sparkling on Melony’s finger. “If he does to you what he did to most every girl in our graduating class, I’ll kill him, and I plan to let him know that.”
“He’s not like that anymore. I swear. He’s amazing.” Her sister’s gushing hit Indie squarely in the chest as soon as her eyes focused in on the largest house in Pleasant Glen.
“Let’s just go get this over with.” She drew a deep breath and reminded herself that as soon as she made an appearance here she could escape to her daddy’s house and everything would be fine.
“Maybe Mom’s kind of trying to come around. She even got you a present,” Miranda stated hopefully.
“She did?”
“Yeah, come on.” Melony grabbed her hand and attempted to jerk her towards the front door. Indie was almost a foot taller than her sisters. Pulling or pushing her to do anything she wasn’t ready to do wasn’t really a fathomable scenario.
Indie begrudgingly advanced letting the phrase ‘you don’t have to stay long’ become her mantra.
“Mama, Indie’s here,” Melony’s call echoed off of the ostentatious marble flooring her mother had demanded be added not long after she’d moved in.
The mayor lifted his head from some newspaper Indie didn’t recognize. It wasn’t the Glen Gazette, but she couldn’t quite make out the title line. “Carolyn,” he bellowed, “she isn’t staying for supper, is she?”
“Nice to see you too, Dad,” Indie sneered.
“No, Ernie, we’re having supper in Lincoln tonight. I told you we’d been invited over to the Swanson’s this evening.” Disapproval broadcast from every cell of Carolyn Jenkin’s body as she made her way down the stairs. It always did. “Derrick Swanson is the mayor of Comstock over in Custer county,” was her only greeting.
“How thrilling.” Indie rolled her eyes.
“I picked up something for you at the store the other day. It’s in the kitchen.”
Indie and her sisters followed after their mother. Indie tried her damnedest not to be excited, or even hopeful. When it came to Carolyn, hope was never a good idea. Her mother had never gotten her a gift outside of the required gift-giving holidays. She thrust a bag from the big bookstore in Lincoln at Indie.
Furrowing her brow, Indie extracted her gift.
“Mother, are serious with this? Oh my God,” she spat out her indignation. The clock on the oven alerted her to the fact that she’d been in the mayor’s house approximately four minutes and she already wanted to shoot something. She flung the book her mother had gifted her onto the kitchen counter. The High School Reunion Diet: Lose 20 years in 2 weeks spun on the granite. Indie fought the desire to vomit. Ire and rage, the inevitable reactions to dashed hope, shot through her veins.
“Anna, mind your tone with your mother,” the mayor had the audacity to address her as he entered the kitchen.
“Do not call me Anna!” she shrieked. “My name is Indie, and while we’re on that subject, don’t address me at all. I feel certain we figured this all out when I was sixteen. You may be married to my mother, but you get no say over anything I do. You got that, Mayor?”
“Indieanna Jane, you mind your language and apologize to your stepfather right this very minute,” her mother demanded.
“Oh, Mama, I’m pretty sure you already know that we’ll be having a snowball fight in hell long before that’ll happen.”
“I’m sure they’ll be fighting no matter where they end up,” Miranda sighed as Melony nodded her agreement.
“Mama, Indie looks as gorgeous as always. Why on earth would you give her that book?” Miranda demanded.
“It never matters what I do, it’s always wrong. I thought you might actually put forth a little effort for your sister’s wedding and your reunion. Luke Camden will be walking you down the aisle next weekend. It might be nice if you didn’t look like that.” Her mother’s eyes ran the length of Indie’s long, curvy body, dressed in her typical ripped Wranglers and vintage Ford t-shirt.
If her mother had actually paddled her ass with a wooden spoon like she used to threaten to when they were kids, it would have shocked her less. “What?!” Wait. Had her mother or sisters figured out that at some point during every single one of her trips home she ended up back in Luke’s bed?
Melony gnawed on her bottom lip until Indie was certain she was going to draw blood. “Well, I was gonna take you out and get you tipsy before I told you this, but Luke is one of Tuck’s best friends, and it just works out height-wise for him to walk you down. Since, you know … you’re really tall.” She cringed.
Indie’s head whirled with the insanity of it all. Her feet longed to sprint back to her car and blaze her way long way past Oklahoma City. Hell, she wouldn’t stop until she’d crossed the Grande and was downing margaritas in Monterrey. Walking down an aisle with Luke was way, way more than she could possibly endure. It spoke to places in her soul she’d long since locked away permanently. No way. She couldn’t go there. She couldn’t ask him to go there. It just wasn’t fair. That was way too close to the life she could have lived, she should have lived, if everything hadn’t gotten so screwed up.
At that moment, Tucker Kilroy himself made his appearance in the kitchen. “Uh, hey, Indie,” he offered sheepishly.
She narrowed her eyes and made good on her promise to warn Tucker. “You ever hurt my little sister, Tuck, I’ll hang your shriveled sac from my review-mirror, you got that?”
“Indi-anna,” gasped from her mother as she clutched her heart.
“Anna, that is inappropriate,” the mayor clucked. Indie spun on him. The rage in her own eyes reflected off of the perfectly polished stainless steel appliances as she lunged at the man that had ruined her entire life.
“What did you just call me?” she seethed. Suddenly, Tucker’s arms were around her, holding her back.
“I got it, Indie. Just calm down, okay?”
“Oh God, Tuck, no,” Melony squeaked. “Never tell her to calm down.”
Indie whirled, letting her right fist fly until she connected with Tuck’s broad chest. He ground his teeth and backed up. “Dammit, Indie. Luke clearly is the only guy who could put up with you. Sure as hell the only one that ever had a prayer of getting you to simmer down.”
“Indie, please,” Melony begged. Her little sister’s plea cooled a little of her burn. “Come on, we haven’t seen you in forever. Just
please.”
Rolling her eyes, she cocked her jaw to the side and shot a livid glare to the mayor. “Think I’ll head on to Daddy’s.”
“No, wait. Mel and I want us to go out for drinks tonight. We’ll try on our dresses real quick, then we’ll go get supper at Saddlebacks.” Miranda eased closer cautiously, like Indie was a ticking time bomb set to detonate at any moment. She’d always been the smartest of the three of them.
An involuntary shudder worked through Indie’s body. “What dresses?”
“Indie, I want my bridesmaids to wear dresses, but I swear they’re cute.”
“Mel, I do not do dresses. And you most certainly know why I do not do dresses. You were there that night.”
“I know, I know, but for me, just this once, please, please, please.”
“Say please to me one more time.”
“Indieanna, stop acting this way. This is not some ridiculous auto shop in Oklahoma. You are a guest in the mayor of Pleasant Glen’s home, and you shall act as such,” Carolyn ordered.
And there it was. The constant reminder that Indie was the unwanted child, the guest who’d gotten in the way, and the ever-growing thorn in her mother’s side. She’d been the one that had walked in on the mayor and her mother going at it in her parent’s bedroom the summer between her sophomore and junior years of high school. Indie had never meant to cause all of the trouble. Lost in a sea of confusion and horror, she’d told her father. Her mother had never cared for Indie in the first place. After that, the battle lines were clearly drawn.
Indie’s temper had always gotten the best of her, and damn it all if Tucker Kilroy wasn’t right. Luke was the only man that knew how to cool her off as well as he knew how to set her ablaze. The steady sanity to her fire. But Luke wasn’t here. She’d been trying for years to forgive her mother for what she’d done, for the ways she’d treated Indie her entire life. Her attempts had been about as successful as shoveling sand in the desert with a slotted spoon.
“Come on.” Melony grabbed her hand and tugged. Not a brilliant move, but Indie let it go as she begrudgingly followed her sisters up the winding staircase.
“I’m wearing my boots, not heels, just for your information,” she informed her sisters. She would look completely ridiculous in heels. Even Luke Camden didn’t stand taller than her in heels.
“We all are. It’s going to be adorable,” Melony squealed.
Adorable was not something Indie would ever achieve. She ground her teeth while her mother’s maid adjusted the waist on the short, sleeveless, hunter-green and ivy-colored dress, with a matching ribbon belt that made Indie’s five feet eleven-inch, thickly curved body look like the Jolly Green Giant, in her opinion.
“Indie, you look amazing,” Melony gushed.
“God, what I wouldn’t give for those legs,” Miranda sighed.
Indie stared at her perfect, petite, blonde, thin sisters. The DoubleMint twins had nothing on them.
She glanced at the old wooden vanity table in the guest bedroom that held her sister’s wedding gown and the bridesmaid’s dresses. The vanity used to contain her mother’s Avon samples and demos back before she’d had an affair with the mayor, had left her father running a garage on the poor end of town, and had effectively ruined Indie’s life.
She recalled the way her mother would splash Sweet Honesty perfume samples and Peachy Keen lip gloss on the twins when they were in middle school. They served as her own personal sales force. When Indie inquired about some lip gloss her freshman year in high school, she was told by her own mother that she just didn’t look like an Avon girl. Her mother’s excuse had been there was no point in Indie wearing makeup since she spent all of her time either under cars in her daddy’s shop or galloping hard and fast on her horses. She was generally smeared with either grease or dirt. Makeup wasn’t for cowgirls, it seemed.
At some point in her adolescence, the taunting jeers from her school peers about her height and the size of her breasts, that were far too large for her frame, joined her mother’s constant derision over her tomboy ways and her weight, and had become the gospel that raised Indie. She checked the mirror again, half expecting it to reflect the powerless feelings she hid with her temper. At least the scars from her breast reduction surgery weren’t visible. If only the dress had any chance of covering the scars on her soul, they’d be in business.
“We got to go all the way to Lincoln for the check-up, and Hank has to get his shots. You sure you don’t mind watchin’ him?” Austin handed Luke his stepson, J.J.
“Nah, I got him. You go on. Tell Hank to give them nurses hell over those shots.”
“Oh, don’t worry he’ll give ‘em hell, then he’ll give me and Summer hell for the next two days. Makes him feel sick. Kinda kills me every freaking time.”
“He’ll be all right.” Luke couldn’t help but chuckle at his little brother, rodeo bull-rider, professional bachelor, turned loving, devoted husband and doting father.
“Unka Wuke!” J.J. trilled. “Slide!”
Smiling at his nephew, Luke was well aware that the little guy had him wrapped around his finger. “Yeah, okay, we’ll go slide.”
“Big twuck.”
“Yep, we’ll go ride in Uncle Luke’s new truck.” Luke winked at his nephew as he applauded excitedly.
Austin shook his head. “Spoilt so bad he stinks.” He razzed J.J.’s hair. “You be good for Uncle Luke, J. Promise Daddy.”
“No.” J.J. shook his head combatively. Since that was his response to most every question, Luke wasn’t too concerned.
“He’ll be fine.” Luke was looking forward to spending the last of the afternoon with his nephew. Maybe he’d be able to come up with some way to execute the plan he’d been crafting ever since Tuck and Melony had announced their upcoming nuptials.
He needed to prove to Indie that he never wanted her to stop being a mechanic. They could be married, and she could help run her father’s shop. Next on the list was getting Indie to fall in love with the ranch again. That seemed a much easier goal to obtain than working on getting her to love the whole town all at once.
At one time, Camden Ranch had been her favorite place to be, a solid, steady home she could always run to when things in her own home got ugly. He glanced around the rolling grasslands dotted with cattle surrounding him for miles on every side. The sun was just beginning its descent behind the corn fields in the distance. The splendor and serenity of it all shouldn’t be a hard sell.
After that he’d work on showing her that the Glen had its issues, but what town didn’t? If he was insanely lucky, he might even be able to negotiate a treaty between Mayor Jenkins, Indie’s mother, and Indie.
Only two problems that he could see stood in the way of his plans. He had to get Indie to agree to giving him the next two weeks to try to convince her of all of that, and to prove that his bedroom skills were vastly better than the way he’d been taking her with all the frustrated fervor being away from her for so long always brought on. He needed to seek her out as soon as possible. And the fact that trying to negotiate anything at all with Indieanna Harper generally worked about as well as trying to baptize a cat.
When Summer and Austin headed out, Luke buckled J.J. into his car seat. More than happy to take his nephew to the elementary school playground, he didn’t feel like being home alone anymore anyway. Being in the vicinity of Pleasant Glen High, which backed up to Pleasant Glen Elementary, might help him think. He was effectively asking Indie to help him resurrect their past so they could create a future together. Might as well go back to the original scene of the crime.
J.J. babbled as Luke drove them to the playground. He took off running as soon as he was released from his seat. He was already wearing through his third set of cowboy boots since he’d moved to the ranch with his mama almost a year ago. Luke hated to admit he was a little envious of Austin. Until that damned reunion invitation had shown up in the mailbox, he hadn’t considered how much he’d wanted to have kids of his own on
e day. How the hell had fifteen years gone by, anyway?
J.J. wanted to run around the swings for a few minutes. Luke kept a close eye on him while he let his mind wander. The hometown bleachers backed up to the playground. God, he could almost see her standing there, giving him that sexy-as-sin smirk that always spoke directly to his groin.
When his cousin Brock’s parents had up and moved him to some tiny beach town in North Carolina, Luke had been concerned. Brock had always played receiver to his quarterback. They were a team unto themselves. Even without his counterpart, Luke decided to try out for the Pleasant Glen football team anyway, but never expected to become the starting quarterback. Their high school was the only one in the county. Kids from ranches up to sixty miles away were bused in, but there were still only 75 kids in their graduating class. Young Rodeo had far more hopefuls than the football team. Luke was never really sure if he was any good or if it was just that he could throw a ball and there wasn’t much competition.
He’d fly down that field on those cool, crisp autumn nights under the scoreboard lights, ignoring every single cheerleader that flirted shamelessly with him because of his uniform, not because of who he was, and pull Indie into his arms and let the entire school know she held his heart forever. It had been that way since Freshman year.
The regret still ate at him. The whole town finding out her mother was keeping the mayor’s bed warm. The snide remarks, haughty glances, and downright cruelty kids and adults alike had shown Indie had broken her thoroughly. He’d done everything he could think of to be there for her while the world tried its damnedest to dismantle her very soul.
She’d always been picked on for being so tall and for the size of her chest. Her mother’s indiscretion poured lighter fluid on an already blazing fire. His little hellcat had proven how tough she could be, never letting on that it bothered her, but he knew better. How was he the only one that understood that when she shouted at her mother, their teachers — hell, even the preachers, and Sunday school teachers at the church — it was so she wouldn’t cry? If she screamed loud enough and fought hard enough, maybe it would fill the empty voids, mend the invisible bruises her childhood had left behind. She was a beautiful storm that scarred the very earth surrounding her. All she’d ever really needed was someone to mend her own wounds. She needed his sanity, not his pressure.
