by Becky McGraw
“Ryan, it’s not like I’ve never been yelled at before. I didn’t appreciate it, but don’t be so dramatic.” Twyla pushed against his chest, but he wouldn’t let her go. “Ryan, let me go. I have to finish the walls.”
“No, kiss me,” he said his hand going into her hair to tilt her head back, before his mouth covered hers, tasting salty. His kiss held an edge of desperation, a tone of remorse, but nothing remotely like love. “Tell me you don’t hate me, Twy,” he whispered as his lips brushed hers a final time.
“I could never hate you, Ryan. I’ve loved you too long,” she said with frustration, stepping back from him. This man was a basket case. His emotions were so close to the edge these days, that he would end up falling apart when the social worker got here. That would never do. Mary would get upset, and the social worker might not leave her. “But don’t yell at me again, or I’ll leave. And you need to take a break. Go out to the barn and mess around, do something other than work. You need to pull yourself together, because when Mary and that social worker get here falling apart is not an option. Got that?”
He didn’t look relieved, he looked more frustrated as she turned and walked out of the room. She picked up the sponge from the bucket, and angrily scrubbed a nasty spot on the wall. An hour more and she would be done. One hour and she could take a shower and get her own self together, so she could help him keep it together.
Twyla only hoped that by the time she left next week, he’d have a better handle on things. On himself. Mary needed him to be strong, and the man who had just kissed her, the man he’d become since they’d come to this house—that was it. This house was making him act this way, and no amount of cleaning was going to change that. This house held too many memories for him to be happy here.
She dropped the sponge in the bucket, then ran into the kitchen. Ryan was leaned over the chipped porcelain sink with his head bent. The faucet was running, so Twyla ran over there and shut it off. The old well pump didn’t take kindly to running for long stretches, and she wanted a shower. She put her hand to his cheek and turned his face toward hers. He wouldn’t meet her eyes, because he was crying. He pulled his face away and turned away.
“Ryan look at me. I understand,” she said calmly. “I know what’s going on with you.”
His head spun and he fixed his angry tortured eyes on her face. “How the hell could you know? You’ve never lived it Twy—this place is killing me one minute at a time. Every time I turn a corner, I see him hitting my mama. I never lived here, but I lived it, before I left home.”
Twyla slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him. “I think it would do both you and Mary to start fresh somewhere else.”
“That can’t happen. I’m stuck here, because I’m poor. I’ve worked my ass off since I was too young to work, and this is what I’ve earned.” He snorted, then shook his head. “Oh and a bunch of bucking bulls I have no use for, and can’t do a damned thing with.”
Twyla eased back and her arms fell to her sides. “Ryan, if you want my help, I’m here to help. If you want to have a pity party, you do it by yourself. Yeah, this sucks, but unless we work together to figure something out, I’m spinning my wheels. This is your life, not mine. I have my new life back in Dallas. You need to find yours.” She turned toward the archway. “I’ll call Heather to come and get me.”
She took one step then a sound like that a wounded animal would make turned into a fierce roar. “Noooooo!! Ryan grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. He dropped to his knees in front of her. “Please don’t leave, Twyla. I’m so sorry, baby. I lo—” he swallowed a couple of times. “I promise I’ll stop feeling sorry for myself.” He hugged her knees and his shoulders shook. “I just feel so overwhelmed with all this. I’m trying, fuck I really am.”
Twyla dropped to her knees and hugged his shoulders. “Try harder.” Ryan nodded against her shoulder, and she kissed his temple. “Because in two hours you’re going to be what amounts to a new daddy. That little girl will fall apart if you do. She has to be as torn up as you are.”
“I know,” he choked out. “She’ll probably be scared here too. I don’t know what that bastard is charged with, or if he’ll get out. If he does, he’ll come back here and I’ll kill him. I swear I’ll kill him.”
Twyla pushed back from him. “So call and find out what he’s charged with. You have the right to do that.”
“I can’t today. I’m going to take a walk, then get ready. “ He pushed up to his feet, and Twyla stood. Ryan pulled her to his chest again, and Twyla slipped her arms around his waist.
“Then do it tomorrow. We don’t have to solve the world’s problems, or yours, in one day. The guys want to come and help, Ryan. Will you accept their help? Even if you don’t stay here, you’ll need to fix it up to sell it.”
“The bastard owns it, there’s no way he’s going to let me sell it. We’re stuck here.”
Twyla sighed and put her hand on his ravaged face. “Things will work out, just take a breath and that walk. Have faith.”
Ryan nodded then turned his face to kiss her palm. “Thanks for talking me off the ledge, Twyla. I really don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”
One side of her mouth kicked up. “Keep your cool, and march on. I’ll be right there beside you, cowboy.”
Two hours later, Twyla pulled her only pair of jeans on. The same pair she’d washed nightly with Ryan’s, before they headed back to the hotel. They needed to go shopping soon, but they were conserving money for building supplies, and the fricking hotel. They couldn’t stay here though. There were only two bedrooms in the house, Mary’s that had a dingy little single bed in it, and his mother’s. She’d slept in there with Clarence. There is no way she was going to even suggest they stay in that room. And the furniture in the living room was ratty and cigarette burned. It smelled just like the walls had before she cleaned them. Clarence must’ve been a chain-smoker is all she could figure.
She wished like hell she had that twenty-five-hundred dollars she’d wasted on bail money for him. Twyla could do a lot with that money right now. According to Heather, the charges against Ryan had been dropped the afternoon after she’d bailed him out. Zack was out on bail too, her parents had put it up, but his assault charge against Ryan was still pending. That was a relief, but she hoped her brother got off too. She was mad at Zack right now, but she did not want him to have a criminal record. Because of her.
If she hadn’t put herself in the stupid position with Jared Wilkins, none of them would be in this fix. But they were here, and needed to deal with that too. She also wanted to call and find out what was happening with the charges against Jared. She hoped that bastard rotted in prison.
Twyla was pulling her hair into a ponytail when Ryan walked in with a towel wrapped around his trim hips. He heaved a breath but when their eyes met in the mirror on the dresser he smiled. It was the first smile she’d seen on his face since before they’d gotten to Houston.
His eyes heated and he dropped the towel, standing there naked as a jaybird, seeming proud of himself. Twyla couldn’t help but drink him in. Ryan was a beautiful man, wide shoulders, firm pecs, washboard abs and dayum, he was happy to see her. The sad part was Ryan Easter knew it, and knew that she thought so too. Pasting on a smug smile, she repeated the same words to him she had that day in Heather’s kitchen, as she fixed her eyes on his dick. “Well cowboy, I’m sure that little sprout satisfies those buckle bunnies just fine, but I’m used to um, more mature men.”
Twyla’s teasing words had the desired effect. Ryan’s smile faded, and he looked a little insulted but then a determined look filled his eyes as he stalked her and she backed up against the dresser. He put his palms down on either side of her, trapping her there. Twyla leaned back, and the intensity in his blue eyes scorched her. “I don’t seem to remember you complaining about my sprout when I had it shoved up inside your—”
Twyla gasped and put her fingers over his mouth. She clicked her tongue. “We’r
e gonna have little ears in the house. You need to watch your mouth.”
His eyes fell to her lips. “I’d rather watch yours when it’s wrapped around my—sprout.“
Twyla bit back a laugh, but slapped her palm over his mouth. He nipped it and she yelped, then gasped when Ryan shoved his hips into her hard. His rock hard cock hit her right where she would love it to be. Wanted it to be right now, if they weren’t expecting visitors.
“And the only little thing in this house will be those ears,” he growled, pressing himself harder against her. “As for mature men. I’m the only man you’re gonna be trying on for size, got that, Daisy?”
Her eyes widened, and she wondered if he knew what he’d just said. “Ryan…I…ah.”
Twyla didn’t know what to say.
As it turned out she didn’t have to say anything, because Ryan swooped down to claim her lips in a kiss she felt all the way down to her toes. He leaned in, pressed himself tighter to her body. Twyla moaned, circling her hips against him, and Ryan forced her mouth open with his tongue then courted hers to dance.
This man was so damned confusing, Twyla gave up on figuring out what was going on with him. She just slid her arms around his neck and kissed him back. She had two weeks to drink her fill of Ryan Easter, and before she left this ranch, she would be full of him. Ready to savor these moments for the rest of her life. This man was the Ryan she’d always dreamed of having hold her, kiss her just like he was kissing her. The only thing missing were the words she given up on him ever uttering. And wasn’t that too damned bad for both of them?
The flagging screen door rattled as someone opened it then knocked on the wooden front door. “Oh my God, they’re here,” Twyla said, panicking as she slid her body from under his. “Get dressed! I’ll stall them. Hurry!”
Twyla straightened her shirt and tucked it into her jeans as she ran for the door. When she opened it, there stood the prettiest blue-eyed blonde girl Twyla had ever seen. Well, she wasn’t a girl really, she was almost a teenager. The only resemblance between her and Ryan were their penetrating blue eyes. Mary’s were sad and afraid and it almost ripped Twyla’s heart out.
She realized she was gawking and forced her eyes to the woman standing behind Mary. With a smile, she stepped back and waved them inside. “Come in. Ryan will be out in just a minute,” she said, trying to stop the nervous quiver in her voice.
The social worker held Mary’s shoulders, as she stepped inside. Her eyes immediately tracked around the house. Twyla knew she was judging, even though she tried to make it appear she was admiring. “Um, nice place,” she said with a polite, but cool smile.
“We’ve been fixing it up. It was a mess,” Twyla said, wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans, her own eyes moving around the room trying to see it through the social worker’s eyes. It wasn’t fancy, but Twyla could attest it was now clean.
“Would you like some sweet tea? I made some earlier.”
“Miss Nell, I want to go see Boney Pony. He’s out in the barn,” Mary said timidly, before she cast her eyes back down at the chipped pink polish on her toenails, as she wiggled them in her worn flip flops.
“I’ll take you out there when Ryan gets in here so he and Miss Nell can talk.”
That would probably be better anyway. Twyla wouldn’t stick her foot in her mouth with this woman and make the situation worse. She hoped Ryan didn’t either.
She looked at Mary, when the silence lengthened. “I’ve been feeding Boney for you. You might have to change his name,” Twyla said with a laugh. “He’s getting a little pudgy, since you haven’t been here to ride him.” The pony was big, but not large enough for her. Her legs would drag the ground, so she hadn’t ridden him. Well that and he had hoof problems she had to treat. He hadn’t ever been trimmed, Twyla didn’t think. The farrier agreed when he came out to take care of him.
Without lifting her eyes, Mary mumbled, “I don’t ride him. I don’t have a saddle.”
Shock rocked Twyla for a second. What adult bought a kid a horse, and didn’t get them a saddle? That was pretty damned cruel in her opinion. And so was the fact the damned horse had been underfed for so long his ribs were showing. That is the only reason his name fit.
Twyla’s saddle didn’t fit Tango anymore. Yeah, it was her lucky saddle, but Randy was right. It wasn’t very lucky if she wasn’t winning, and it didn’t fit her horse right. She needed a new one anyway. “Well, I have one you can have. It’s special. I won it barrel racing. It doesn’t fit my horse anymore, but I think it might fit Boney.”
The girls eyes shot up then, and she smiled. “Really?” she asked with awe in her tone.
Twyla returned her smile. “Yep, but it’s in Dallas, so I’ll have to go get it for you.”
Her face fell, and Twyla wanted to shove Ryan in the truck right then to drive to Dallas to get the damned saddle. Ryan walked in looking handsome as sin in his spit-shined boots, freshly washed faded Wranglers and black t-shirt. He smiled that smile that always hit her in the gut and stuck his hand out to Nell, and she shook it.
“I’m Ryan Easter, um,” his eyes darted to Mary who was staring at him with the same awe in her expression she’d had over the saddle. “I’m Mary’s brother.”
Mary’s expression was also the same expression Twyla imagined she’d worn when she first met Ryan. When she fell in love with him ten years ago out by the bonfire at her parent’s ranch. Her heart wiggled in her chest remembering how young they were. And how damned handsome he was even then. She could imagine just how the little girl was feeling.
“You’re my brother?” Mary asked, her eyes widening.
“Yes, ma’am, I am,” he said with a grin, ruffling her hair like he would a five-year-old. And like a teenager she harrumphed and ran her fingers through her hair until she thought it was straight.
“I’m not a ma’am and don’t do that!” she said sassily, jerking a laugh from Ryan.
Twyla saw that the little girl wasn’t kidding, she was winding up to blast her new brother. She quickly put her arm around Mary’s shoulders. “I think Mary and I are going out to the barn to visit Boney. Y’all have a nice talk.”
Twyla stepped around Nell to open the door, and quickly ushered Mary outside. Twyla knew that kid’s attitude, because it mirrored hers at that age. Her mouth got her into trouble often, and Twyla knew that would be the case with Mary too if they didn’t get out of there. Ryan Easter was going to have both hands full with his new sister, and Twyla would love to be a fly on the wall to watch the fireworks.
But she wouldn’t be that fly. She would be in Dallas living her new life, while Ryan figured out his. Sadness tried to steal her good mood, but she pushed it away.
Heather’s words came back to shore her up. Don’t give up your dreams for a man. Well Heather had never been in love with a man like Ryan Easter, but she was right, Twyla wasn’t going to do that. She was going back to Dallas to learn cowboy mounted shooting just like she planned, and she was going to live her life. Just the way she wanted to live it. And nobody was going to tell her differently. And from all appearances Ryan wasn’t going to try and convince her to stay by uttering the words that would change everything.
She pasted on a smile, when they reached the barn. “Girlfriend, we’ve got to get you some boots. If Boney steps on your toes, you’re going be out of luck.”
Twyla watched Mary’s face wilt when she heard Boney whinny for her at the fence. She had to know what was wrong now. Had she said something to upset her? Walking on eggshells wasn’t going to cut it. She stopped walking and turned Mary to face her.
“Why are you frowning?” her damned lower lip trembled and those blueberry eyes filled.
She pulled her into her arms and hugged her tight. “What’s wrong?”
Her voice was barely above a hoarse whisper, when she said, “Daddy was going to give away Boney. That’s why him and Mama were fighting.”
Twyla hugged her tighter, and rocked her, as she fought her own tears. �
�Boney isn’t going anywhere, baby. Your brother loves horses. He won’t make you get rid of him.”
“But if my Daddy comes back—“
“He’s not coming back,” Twyla cut her off. “Your brother is going to make sure he stays right where he belongs and that’s not here with y’all.” Twyla could only hope her words would prove true.
Tomorrow morning, Ryan was going to make that call if she had to make it for him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“What do you mean you can’t find his case? It’s James, Clarence James,” Ryan said impatiently, his heart pounding in his chest. The prosecutor’s office not being able to find the file on his stepfather was scaring the shit out of him. What if they’d turned him loose and he was on his way here? His eyes shot to Mary, who was in the kitchen making fricking cookies with Twyla. Lord knew how that would turn out.
The last thing he’d eaten that Twyla made was rock hard biscuits she’d surprised him with one morning at the ranch. The thought had been good, but the biscuits, not so much. He’d choked one down, because at seventeen she had been so proud of herself. He only survived by chasing it with a gallon of coffee, but he hadn’t forgotten Twyla’s cooking skills. After that, he ran when he saw her in the kitchen at the ranch. But at least Twyla was trying to distract Mary so he could make this call.
“Hold, please,” the frustrated woman on the other end of the line said, but she didn’t wait for him to respond. Elevator music grated on his nerves while he waited not so patiently. Ryan held three more minutes, and was just about to hang up when a man came on the line.
“Mr. Easter?’
“Yes, who’s this?” Ryan had been talking to a damned woman, and he wanted her back because he had a few things to say to her for keeping him on hold so long, and giving him the run around.
“This is Robert Miley, the prosecutor on Mr. James case. You are his stepson is that correct?”
