by Tina Leonard
She headed off. “You’re a sweet baby,” she whispered to Annette. “Your daddy is being a gorilla, but his brothers will get him out of his hair suit. Eventually. And what did you think about your Uncle Crockett riding that mean ol’ bull?”
Annette didn’t answer, but she stuck her fist in her mouth.
“I’ll get one of Delilah’s delicious cookies,” she said, letting herself into the cool beauty salon. “There was a time when I didn’t think I’d ever be inside this shop,” she murmured. “I’m so glad times are changing.”
The door opened behind her. “Hey,” Crockett said, closing the door. “You bailing?”
Valentine nodded, happy in spite of herself to see him. “I kind of have to. You?”
“Nah. I’ve got to be brave. I’ll either be mopping up a brother or giving him my buckle.”
Valentine looked into his eyes. “Just give it to him.”
He chuckled. “Last would not accept a victory that way.” Rubbing a thumb along her chin, he asked, “Why are you so anxious to protect him?”
Chapter Eight
Valentine pulled away from Crockett’s touch. “I’m looking out for him for the same reason you are.”
Crockett doubted that, but he told himself his jealousy was ill-founded. “I suppose I should be happy that you care about my family.”
She moved farther into the kitchen. “I’m surprised you care what I think. Did I just imagine the silent treatment you gave me this morning?”
Touchy. He couldn’t blame her; there was confusion enough to go around. “I’m not trying to cross any lines that you—or anybody else—has drawn.”
“This family could be a tic-tac-toe board. There are no winning squares, just dividing lines.”
“Ouch.” He pulled off a dusty glove and sank into a kitchen chair.
She didn’t turn around as she fussed with Annette’s dress. “Are you hurt?”
“No, that was a mental pain. I hate to think of bad feelings between us. You are my niece’s mother.”
He watched for a shrug but he couldn’t read her posture. She set Annette on the counter and washed the little girl’s hands. He smiled at her conscientious mothering.
“What time is Last riding?”
“In thirty minutes. I should get back and loosen him up.” Crockett sighed. “I came to apologize, Valentine, for that mess back there. You’re right about the lines. I feel them, too. Although I may be uncomfortable, I shouldn’t take it out on you or Last.”
“Uncomfortable about?”
He shrugged. Could he be honest about exactly what he felt? Maybe at this point he wasn’t certain what that was. “Part of me admires you. Admires you more than as a part of our family.”
There. He’d admitted it. The words lingered in the air between them. His stomach tightened.
“Sometimes maybe I think of you as more, too,” she said softly. She hesitated a moment before setting a teakettle on the burner. “Saying that doesn’t make me feel any better, though. I really don’t want to think of you in any way except as one more of the Jefferson men. So I try not to.”
What had he expected her to say? Recklessly, he moved behind her, turning her to face him. He felt the warmth of the stove as it heated, sort of like his heart, which refused to grow cold. “I stayed on that bull because of you,” he said. “None of my brothers have the reason I did.” He ran his palms down her arms, enjoying the soft feel of her.
“What reason?”
Did he imagine that hitch in her breath? Why not keep talking? Maybe her response would surprise him. “There’s something about you that draws me in. I like thinking about you. And then I remember Last and I tell myself I can’t think about you. I got up on that bull, and I told myself that for those eight seconds, I wouldn’t think about you. I would think about saving my life. For eight seconds, I would be free.”
She stared up at him, her eyes huge.
He shook his head as he stroked her cheek. “I was looking for freedom from the guilt, from the worry. From knowing it was wrong to see you in any way except as a sister. Only, the crazy thing was, as Bloodthirsty left the gate, all I thought of was you. You and Annette. And it was the shortest eight seconds of my life.”
After a moment, Valentine pulled away slowly, leaving his arms cold. She didn’t say a word, and he knew he’d said too much, felt too much.
So he left. And the pain in his heart was far greater than the pain of a broken body.
And none of it could be fixed.
STUNNED, VALENTINE STARED at the floor as she listened to Crockett walk out the door. He’d shocked her into complete silence. The depth of his passion overwhelmed her.
Mimi had said a Jefferson in hot pursuit was unmistakable. Now she understood.
She also understood that what he spoke of could never be. Part of her wished the fantasy had not come alive between them, because now they could never go back.
She desperately wanted to make love with him. How wonderful would it be to give in, to spend time in his world—
Blinking her eyes against tears, she chose a teacup and put a fragrant tea bag into it. Bemused, she carried Annette upstairs and put her down for a nap. All the while her mind replayed the intense look on Crockett’s face when he’d revealed his feelings to her.
“I’ll make cookies,” she murmured, remembering Delilah’s offer to use the fridge. Baking, Valentine recognized, had become her comfort, her refuge in every storm. Taking a bowl of dough, she lifted the plastic wrap. Chocolate chip would make the house smell good, and she’d be helping Delilah…and she wouldn’t think about what Crockett had told her.
Not even once.
From upstairs, she heard Annette call her. Probably worried about being in a new place, or perhaps she needed something to drink. Her mind preoccupied, Valentine set the bowl down next to the stove and hurried from the kitchen.
The plastic wrap flamed from the heat of the stove, setting a stack of old recipe cards on fire. Instantly, the seasoning rack above took the flames and the wooden kitchen cabinets began smoking.
The teakettle, fully warmed now, let off a shrill whistle. Valentine ran down the stairs, stopping in horror. “Oh, no!” she cried. “Oh, no!”
The whole kitchen now alight, Valentine ran upstairs, grabbed her baby and hurried down the back stairs toward the rodeo.
THREE HOURS LATER, Crockett was really, really worried about Valentine. She simply sat, staring at the rubble that had once been Delilah’s kitchen and salon. Sensing her mother’s mood, Annette sat in Valentine’s lap, patting her mother’s face every once in a while.
The town’s volunteer fire squad had done their best to put out the blaze, but the odds of getting it tamed quickly had been slim. Delilah hadn’t cried at the sight of her destroyed home. Instead she’d tried to comfort Valentine, to no avail.
But when Marvella, her sister, pulled Delilah into her arms, whispering how sorry she was, how sorry she was for everything, Delilah did break down.
Crockett saw Valentine’s shoulders droop. She was so dejected by what she had accidentally done. He wanted to hold her, but he knew he could not. She had not wanted to hear the words he’d told her when they were standing in Delilah’s kitchen; he had felt her withdraw.
If he went to her now, he would feel more of that rejection. He could tell her heart was broken. There really was no comfort he could give her.
But there were blessings: everyone had been at the rodeo, so no one was hurt; Delilah said she was fully insured; the townspeople loved her, and the town fathers said they would help her rebuild, newer and better than before.
Also Jerry was there to comfort Delilah, his brawny arms folded as he stood nearby, watching the two sisters hug away the years of pain.
Yes, there were blessings, but he knew Valentine was too distraught to see any of those right now. He knew exactly what she was thinking: She’d burned down the kitchen of her old employer’s one-time rival, and maybe no one would believe it had tru
ly been an accident. Perhaps people would say that they’d always known she wasn’t to be trusted.
Last must have understood some of the cares weighing on Valentine because he put Annette on his shoulders and helped Valentine to his truck.
Jealousy ripped through Crockett like a fire-ball. That was the move he could have made, had he not spoken too soon, revealing his heart and likely forever driving a wedge of discomfort between them. He looked at his smoke-stained clothes, brushing a hand against them before heading inside the rodeo arena to help with the tear-down.
There really wasn’t much else he could do.
He’d won the bounty, but he didn’t feel much like a winner. In fact, he felt as if he’d lost something that mattered a whole hell of a lot to him, which he might not ever get back.
Chapter Nine
Numb and totally devastated, Valentine allowed Last to lead her away from the destruction she had created. She couldn’t believe what she had done—poor Delilah!
This was no time to leave. If her heart was broken, Delilah’s must be far more so. She owed it to Delilah to stay here in Lonely Hearts Station and do whatever she could to right what she had done.
“I can’t go,” she said to Last. “Thank you for trying to help me, but I need to stay here.”
He looked surprised. Atop his shoulders, Annette picked at her daddy’s cowboy hat. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. It’s time I show a little bravery.”
“Valentine, Delilah knows it was an accident.”
That didn’t make her feel much better. “I can’t leave her here with nothing.”
“She won’t have nothing. If it wasn’t for Delilah, Union Junction would have lost a lot more during the Great Storm. We won’t let her or her employees go without.” He frowned at her. “You need to rest. Staying here fretting isn’t going to solve anything.”
“But I have to stay,” she said, knowing she was being stubborn and yet feeling certain she was doing the right thing. “Last, it’s about showing that I care. I just can’t walk away and leave my mess behind.”
He stared at her, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was caught by Crockett, across the street. She watched him hoist a bag of sawdust on strong shoulders, and carry it inside the arena.
Last sighed. “Valentine.”
She turned her head. “Yes?”
“Are you staying because of Crockett?”
“No!” She glared at him. “Don’t even get started with me right now.”
“I saw him go over to Delilah’s. I know you were there, too. Shortly after, he came out, and her kitchen caught on fire.”
She gasped. “What are you suggesting?”
He shrugged. “There is nothing to suggest. It’s just how it was. But it seems something’s going on between you two, enough for an absentminded accident to occur. It’s not like you to not pay attention.”
“I think I flopped the dish towel too close to the burner,” she said miserably.
“It’s not like you,” he repeated. “I think your mind was elsewhere.”
“Lots of people let their mind wander. It shouldn’t be a disaster.”
“Maybe it’s best if you take a break from all this.”
“I don’t need a break. I need to help.” She knew how much it meant to possess her own home and business. She hated that she’d burned someone else’s down.
“Okay. I might as well stay here, too. We’ll need to move the ladies somewhere. They can’t stay in those rooms above the salon. Although the firemen say the rest of the house is stable except for the kitchen, it sure does smell smoky.”
Tears welled up in her eyes.
“Now, don’t get upset,” Last said hurriedly. “Maybe they can open some windows or something.”
“Not for smoke,” Valentine said miserably. “It has staying power.”
“Come on. Let’s not stand over here talking,” Last said. “You know,” he added with a grin, “I am mad at you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t get to ride Bloodthirsty Black now. You effectively ruined my chance to show up my brother by setting a fire. I think you did it on purpose.”
That brought a tiny smile to her face. “I didn’t, but I’m glad you’re not riding. The whole thing is ridiculous.”
He shook his head. “Rodeo is for real men.”
She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, smiling in spite of herself. “Real men know when to say no.”
“Yeah, well. I never have. Come on, sweetie,” he said to Annette. “Let’s go see the horsies.”
“Don’t let her out of your sight,” Valentine said.
“It’s her mother who’s dangerous,” he said with a wink. “I just ride bulls.”
“You’re a jerk,” she said, swiping at his arm. “I won’t forgive you for that comment.”
Last left, with Annette happily bobbing on his shoulders.
“You’re in a better mood,” Crockett said, walking up to her.
“I can’t be in a better mood,” Valentine said, wiping soot off his face. “But I do feel less like the earth is going to open up any second and swallow me because of my crime.”
“Valentine, it was an accident.”
“I take pride in my kitchen work. How can I set a kitchen on fire? Plus I feel terrible about poor Delilah. I burned down her kitchen and her business!” Tears sprang into her eyes again.
He nodded. She put her hands on her hips. “Why aren’t you more upset?”
“Because it was an accident, and we Jeffersons have had plenty of our own.” He stroked her hair away from her face.
She shook her head, not about to allow him to soothe her into thinking this was minor. “It was still stupid.”
“Yeah.”
She glanced up at him, surprised.
“Ladies get propositioned all the time and don’t set houses on fire,” he said, his tone teasing.
She sighed. “You’re as bad as your brother. Did anybody ever tell you that you Jefferson males have situationally inappropriate humor?”
“A time or two. Hey, you want to help me move some things over to Marvella’s for Delilah’s stylists?”
She gasped. “Delilah’s girls are going to go stay at Marvella’s?”
“Yep. Delilah, too.”
“What have I done?” she moaned.
“I think you brought two sisters together who needed a reason to get together.” He pointed toward Delilah and Marvella. The sisters were busily loading a truck full of belongings so they could be carried across the street to Marvella’s. “We offered them our house, and the Union Junction stylists have some room above their salon that they were eager to share, but the Lonely Hearts girls voted. They and Delilah say they’ll stay with her sister.”
“I can’t believe it,” Valentine said softly.
“It’s a new day in Lonely Hearts Station,” he said cheerfully. “Hope it’s a good one. Come on. Looks like they’ve got the moving covered. I need to pick up another bag of sawdust.”
She followed him, more because he seemed to be her lifeline at this point, rather than because she believed in her ability to be helpful.
“Hey,” Crockett said as they walked inside the rodeo arena. “Don’t worry so much. Delilah told me she’d been thinking about redecorating.”
Valentine stared at the large, handsome cowboy. “Is that more inappropriate situational humor?”
He shook his head. “No. That’s what she said. She came out of the rodeo, asked if you and the baby were out of the house and safe, then shrugged and said she needed to redecorate anyway.”
“Crockett, how can I explain to you that the kitchen is the heart of the home? Having my own place means everything in the world to me. Destroying someone else’s breaks my heart.”
“I understand. You are a very bad girl. Perhaps I should spank you.”
She stared at him. “You wouldn’t dare, and I would be very annnoyed.”
He grinned. “Anything to m
ake you quit feeling so guilty. It’s a kitchen, and maybe a lot of smoke damage—”
“Crockett!” She glared at him.
“You are a prickly little thing.”
“You don’t have a serious bone in your body!”
“I do. I really admire your love of hearth and home. In fact, I hope I marry a woman who adores the kitchen as much as you do. It’s what every man dreams of.”
She crossed her arms.
“I would trust you in my kitchen.”
The twinkle in his eye was irritating. “Had you not approached me in the kitchen, I would have been my usual calm and collected self.”
“Ahh.” He nodded. “So you’re admitting that I get to you.”
“Cockroaches would also cause me not to be my usual calm and collected self, Crockett. Don’t get too proud.”
He looked crestfallen. “That was uncalled for.”
She laughed, knowing he was faking his hurt feelings. “Well, you have succeeded. You made me laugh.”
“That wasn’t really my goal.”
“Do you have goals, Crockett? You seem to live by your momentary impulses.”
“I have goals. I had an important goal when I came to Delilah’s kitchen. It was this.” He pulled her close, kissing her deeply. Valentine thought she could feel her toes curling—yes, they were—and maybe even her hair. She had forgotten what a great kisser he was! A girl would bake all day just to get some of this sugar, she thought as he held her.
Then he set her away from him. “That was a momentary impulse,” he said. “I do like to live by them.”
She took a moment to collect her wits. “You taste like soot,” she said, “but somehow, I liked it.” Before she could focus on what had just happened she heard an odd sound. “What’s that?”
“Sounds like a bull. They’re all in their pens.”
She turned to look at him. “So, was Bloodthirsty your last ride?”
He grinned. “A cowboy never says that.”
“Superstition?”
“Fact. We don’t want to get old. We want the thrill. We want the admiration of women. You wouldn’t say you’d baked your last cookie, would you?”
