by Jo Barrett
“Is this how you’re gonna behave every time I try to have a serious conversation?” Dylan asked. He crossed his arms over his chest, but Kathleen could tell that the lust was starting to set in.
Men, she thought. So easy.
“Honey, I love you, and I agree that Bo Harlan has a bit of the devil in him, but so did your dad—and honestly, no one knows the real story. Not even you.”
Dylan stared at the floor. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely audible.
“Listen to what I’m telling you, Kat. When Wyatt and I were kids, Bo Harlan and my dad played poker. Well, there was this one time. Dad was drunk, as usual, and things got out of hand. Bo had brought some guys with him, and they had guns.”
“Did it ever occur to you that Bo Harlan was afraid of your dad?”
It was a fair question. Dylan’s father had been a mean drunk. An out-of-control, abusive loser in Kathleen’s opinion. Which was why Wyatt was missing the bottom part of his leg below the kneecap. It was a wonder that child protective services hadn’t rescued them as kids, but Dylan and Wyatt had been so scared, they’d lied out of their teeth and said the fishing incident had been an “accident.”
Dylan shook his head. “I can blame Dad for a lot of things, Kathleen, but that doesn’t make what Bo Harlan did right.”
“I know, sweetie,” Kathleen whispered. She patted the bed next to her. “Come to me.”
Dylan hung his head. His eyes seemed tired, too. Kathleen knew that the recent financial pressures had been stressful for him. He collapsed onto the bed, rolled toward her, threw his arm around her, and squeezed her tight.
Kathleen loved it when they were like this. Fitting so perfectly together in each other’s arms.
She felt Dylan’s hot breath against her ear.
“I’m worried about us,” he said. “Worried about our future.”
Kathleen turned and faced him. She looked into his eyes and stroked his cheek with her hand. She couldn’t tell Dylan about the salary she was taking from the hospital—and how Bo Harlan’s money was funding them for a little while until they landed on their feet. She couldn’t tell him this because it would make him feel bad. Even though he’d been taking good care of her for years, Dylan’s Achilles’ heel was his pride.
Kat considered all that this man had done for her. It was Dylan who’d been by her side at her mother’s and her father’s and her grandpapa’s funeral. Dylan who’d helped with all the arrangements. Dylan who supported her mission to fund the hospital. And Dylan who showed her the type of compassion and love that other woman could only dream about.
Kat stroked her hands through Dylan’s hair, and watched as his eyes closed.
“It’s time for someone to help you for a change,” she murmured. But he was already fast asleep.
Twenty-nine
Dylan awoke before Kathleen, which surely set some kind of Guinness record. He knew what he needed to do. There was no time for delay.
Skipping his usual shower and shave routine, Dylan walked straight to his closet and threw on a pair of jeans, boots, and his cowboy hat. He tiptoed past the bed, slid open his sock drawer, and rummaged around until his fingers found what he was searching for. The Ziploc baggie was inside one of the socks. He pulled it out and stuck it in his pocket.
Dylan rushed downstairs and jumped in the truck. He washed it, filled it up with gas, and drove to the supermarket to get some flowers.
Kat was a daisy girl. She wasn’t big into roses, but Dylan chose a red rose anyway because it meant love. He grabbed a bundle of daisies, too, just to make her smile.
Then he jumped back in the truck and drove to the bakery she loved and bought two croissants, some banana nut bread, blueberry muffins, jams, juices, the whole shebang, and had the counter guy pack it up like a picnic. While he was waiting, he downed a cup of strong coffee and asked for another, which he drank right after that.
He was wired now, and he could barely wait to wake her up.
Dylan raced back to the Royal Arms, and instructed the valets to keep the truck running.
As he strode past the concierge desk, he pointed at Eddie. “Today’s the day, my man,” Dylan said, and winked.
Eddie broke into a broad grin. “You mean it?”
“Yep,” Dylan said. “But mum’s the word.”
“Ms. Kathleen will be so happy, Mr. Grant.” Eddie sighed.
When Dylan stepped back into the apartment, Kat was awake and making coffee. She was wearing her nightshirt and a pair of burnt orange sweatpants that read, “Go Longhorns!” across the rear.
“You’re up early,” Kat announced. “Coffee?”
“We’re going on a road trip,” Dylan said. “So I need you to get ready.”
“Oooh!” Kathleen clapped her small hands. “Should we invite Wyatt?”
Dylan shook his head. Wyatt would love having a day to himself loafing on the couch watching football, or doing whatever it was that Wyatt did to entertain himself.
“I want it to be just the two of us.” Dylan patted the Ziploc bag in his pocket to make sure it was still there. “C’mon, Kat, let’s giddy up and go.”
“What should I wear?”
“You need your snake boots,” Dylan said, even though he knew this would spoil the surprise.
Kathleen squealed. She could barely contain her excitement. She jumped up and down on the kitchen tile and then ran to the bedroom. Within what seemed like thirty seconds, she was ready. Dressed in jeans, snake boots up to her knee, a white cotton T-shirt, and on her head…the diamond tiara.
“Nice look, hon.” Dylan chuckled.
Kathleen giggled and covered her mouth. “I thought we could take some funny pictures.”
Camera! He’d forgotten all about that. “Thanks for reminding me,” he said. Dylan grabbed the digital and ushered Kat out the door.
“Right this way, Queen Elizabeth.”
She gave him a playful slap on the arm. “Stop it.”
They reached the elevator, and Kat turned to him and smiled. “I know where we’re going.”
“Wasn’t hard to figure out.”
“We haven’t been to the ranch in ages,” she said. “What made you all of a sudden want to drive to Tangled Spur?”
“You’ll see. It’s a surprise.”
Kathleen crossed her arms over her chest. “If there’s a for sale sign on the property, you’re a dead man.”
Dylan threw his head back and laughed. He grabbed Kat around the waist and squeezed her butt cheeks. “Too much sass and not enough ass,” he said.
“Don’t you worry about that,” Kat said, shooting him The Look.
Dylan would’ve dropped trou and taken her in the elevator right then, but by that time, the elevator doors whooshed open and they’d reached the lobby.
And besides, the sex could wait.
Thirty
Kat wondered what all the fuss was about. When Dylan opened the door of the truck, she saw the flowers draped across the passenger seat. The white daisies weren’t wrapped in your standard green tissue paper, but instead were loosely spread all over the place. In the center lay a single red rose.
“Dylan!” Kat kissed him on the lips. She wondered what the protocol was for loose flowers spread inside a truck. Was she supposed to sit on them during the ride? Or pick them up one by one and lay them on the dashboard?
Dylan grabbed the flowers up in one big bundle, held them under Kat’s nose as a bouquet, and commanded her, “Smell.”
“Lovely,” she said, confirming the smell. Dylan smiled and then threw the flowers over the seat into the back of the pickup.
There go my daisies, Kat thought. She knew the flowers would not be able to withstand a two-hour journey in the Texas heat. But it wasn’t her business to start taking over. This was Dylan’s show.
“Climb in,” Dylan said.
Kat noticed that her boyfriend was looking quite smug this morning. More so than usual.
She climbed into the truck and swit
ched on the radio. Immediately a song came on. If any song could be considered “their song,” this was it. Dylan had obviously gone and bought the CD to surprise her.
It was Don Williams. It was the song Kat and Dylan sang to each other sometimes when either of them was feeling blue that day. It was “Lord, I Hope This Day Is Good.”
Kat clicked her seat belt, sat back in the truck, and realized that Dylan was about to break up with her.
After all these years, he’d suddenly decided it was time to sow his wild oats somewhere else. Kat wondered if her lunch with Bo Harlan had somehow lit a fire under Dylan’s butt, and got him thinking about life without her. Certainly seeing her with another man had put Dylan ill at ease.
Dylan jumped into the driver’s seat. Kat remained silent as he pulled the truck away from the Royal Arms and steered out toward the highway.
They had such a long history together that Kat could barely believe what was about to happen. She imagined the events that were about to unfold.
Dylan would drive her out to her grandfather’s ranch—which was now technically her ranch. The Tangled Spur was the perfect place for him to drop a bomb of such mega-proportions.
He would start by telling her how much he loved her, and would always love her. Then, he’d shower her with compliments about what a great person she was and blah, blah, blah.
Then he’d say, Kathleen, I brought you out here because I need to tell you something. I can’t be in this relationship anymore. It’s not fair to me that you’re barren. I’ve always imagined myself having a wife and kids. But I hope we can remain close friends.
Kathleen stared out at the scenery whizzing by. The Don Williams song ended, and Kat reached for the radio and switched it off.
When the doctor told her about the cyst on her ovary, Kathleen had known in an instant that her and Dylan’s relationship might come to an abrupt end. It wasn’t that he didn’t love her, it was just that Dylan had always spoken about being a father—a better father than his own father had been. It was as if he had something to prove.
“You hungry, hon?” Dylan asked. He reached behind her, pulled out a sack with the Kraft Bakery logo, and plopped it in her lap. Her favorite breakfast in the whole wide world. This was so Dylan. To end things on such a kind note by making her feel special, by making her know just how much he cared.
“Dig in, Kit Kat,” Dylan said.
A pain erupted through Kat’s stomach. Great, she thought. My last meal.
Kat flipped down the visor and stared at herself in the mirror. The fact that she was wearing a tiara made the pain worse. But, alas, she would accept her fate with a smile, as she’d learned to do.
Never let them know you’re disappointed, her mama had always said. Kat pulled a croissant out of the bag, popped open one of the plastic containers holding the strawberry jam, and dug in. She ate like an animal, like she was famished and had never eaten before. For some reason, she felt extra-hungry this morning and a bit nauseous as well. It was probably the stress.
Dylan glanced over at her. “You okay?” he asked.
Kat smiled at him—a big, beaming, beautiful fake smile. She’d pull her best Ingrid Bergman yet.
Thirty-one
Dylan wondered why Kathleen had been oddly quiet during the entire ride to the ranch. Women, he thought. With women, you never could tell.
After a few solid hours of driving, they’d reached the Tangled Spur. He pulled the truck up to the gate, jumped out, and opened the padlock. Then he ran back to close the gate behind them so that none of the deer would run loose into the road. Kathleen’s ranch had a dusty gravel road that wound through the hill country and down toward the stream. Her ranch was one of the few around that had water rights. That was, a prized stream that ran over the limestone rocks and ended in a series of beautiful dipping pools.
The ranch house had long since burned down, but there was an old trailer that some of the hunters passing through sometimes used.
Dylan knew the exact spot where he wanted to propose. On top of the Wishing Rock, smack-dab in the middle of the stream.
When Kathleen was a young girl, Cullen Davis King had traveled to the ranch with her in tow. There he’d sit her down and tell her stories about a famous rock. A rock that, if Kathleen believed it to be true, would grant all her wishes. The Wishing Rock was a beautiful marbleized-looking stone that had become soft and smooth from years of stream water flowing over it. The only way to reach the rock was to wade out into the middle of the water and climb on top of it.
Over the years, the colors of the rock had become even brighter, with hues of green, blue, and orange from all the minerals the water carried.
Whenever Kathleen was upset she’d pay a visit to the Wishing Rock to wish for things to get better. Dylan had driven her to the Wishing Rock many times, including the day after her grandfather’s funeral, and the time when one of the children at the pediatric hospital was in critical condition, and Dr. Levin had solemnly informed Kathleen that there was nothing left for them to do.
Dylan parked the truck near the stream and got out. A group of deer had stopped in their tracks, and now Dylan and the buck were in a staring contest. Dylan said, “Scat!” and the deer hopped off into the brush and disappeared.
Dylan saw that Kathleen was just sitting in the truck, staring straight ahead—catatonic. She’d been acting strangely all morning. Being quiet almost the entire ride. And when he’d tried to turn on the Don Williams CD, she kept flipping it off until he gave up.
Dylan walked around to the passenger side and opened her door for her.
“Step on out, princess,” Dylan said, taking Kathleen’s hand and helping her out of the truck.
Kathleen smiled beatifically. “What a lovely day,” she said, and Dylan agreed. The sky was as blue and sturdy as Texas sky could be, and there was a slight cool breeze that kept the mosquitoes away.
Dylan said, “C’mon, let’s go to the Wishing Rock.” He watched Kathleen’s face turn ashen, and he wondered suddenly if she knew what was about to happen. Kathleen was always one up on him.
The antique Kashmir sapphire encrusted with sparkling diamonds was burning a hole inside Dylan’s pants pocket. It had been his mother Clarissa’s ring. Not the engagement ring his father had given her. No, that diamond had been pawned off a long time ago by dear old Dad.
This ring had been handed down to Clarissa Grant from her own mother, who’d gotten it from hers, and so on. Dylan wasn’t quite sure how far back the ring went, but an appraiser had once estimated its date to be in the mid-1800s.
Clarissa Grant had handed it to Dylan for safekeeping on her deathbed. “Don’t show your father,” she’d instructed him, because Clarissa knew this ring wouldn’t last in the hands of Butch Grant.
The ring was the sole heirloom that Dylan had from his mother. She’d left a pair of cuff links and an antique man’s pocket watch for Wyatt. But the ring—her most prized possession—went to her firstborn son.
Dylan had never shown the ring to anyone, including Kathleen. He considered it one of the few good memories, one of the last moments he’d shared with his mother, and part of his history.
Dylan watched Kat wade knee-deep into the stream and make her way toward the Wishing Rock. He knew his mother would approve.
Thirty-two
Kat had been substituting sex for the real issue. Dylan was absolutely right. Whenever he had a problem with her, she stripped off her blouse, or flashed her butt, or did something to get his mind off the fact that she was never going to be able to provide him with the family he deserved.
It wasn’t fair to him, she realized, to try this ploy once again. Kat had considered getting out to the Wishing Rock and then stripping off her jeans, snake boots, and shirt. She knew that it would be difficult for Dylan to break up with her if she were standing on the Wishing Rock naked. But she also knew that she was putting off the inevitable.
Kathleen got halfway out to the stream in waist-deep water, and wonder
ed if she should pull a Virginia Woolf and drown herself. She’d seen the movie with Nicole Kidman, and, while tragic, Kat felt there was a certain amount of grace for a woman to walk into a river and just drown herself like that. It was almost biblical.
Kat ran her hands across the cool water, causing little ripples. She took in a deep breath and decided to get her hair wet. So she dunked her head backward.
The diamond tiara fell loose and Kat scrambled to grab it before it sank. Damned thing. She’d forgotten about it again.
Kat scowled. Why was she wearing the stupid thing, anyway? Was it whimsical? Or just plain ridiculous?
She’d wanted to give Dylan a laugh. But now, who cared?
Kathleen turned and saw Dylan step into the water. He’d taken off his snake boots and rolled up his jeans to the knee, which was dangerous, but that was Dylan for you. If he got bit by a rattler or a moccasin, he’d probably figure out a way to suck the damned poison himself. Plus they had a snake kit in the trailer just in case.
Kat stared at the tiara in her hand and then tucked it back on top of her head, because there was no place else. The damned thing was too big to fit into her jeans pocket.
She felt like hurtling it across the water and letting it sink, but Shelby Lynn would never forgive her.
Kat’s jeans and boots were soaking wet as she dragged herself out of the stream and boosted herself up onto the cool, smooth Wishing Rock. For a moment, she just lay there with her eyes closed, listening to the sound of the water trickling by.
Dylan would be here any minute. To…break up with her.
Kathleen’s eyes popped open. Over her dead body! Over her dead body, indeed! What the hell had she been thinking!
There was no time to lose, so Kathleen hurriedly took off her T-shirt and bra, kicked off her boots, and stripped her jeans down.
Dylan was staring at some hawk circling up in the sky above, and so it gave Kat a moment to stand up—in full commando—with her hands against her hips.
