“We have nothing to say to each other,” Tricia said, holding the kids close. She spoke forcefully, but Mason heard the faint tremor at the end. Caught how her face had lost its color.
She was afraid of Perry. Which wasn’t a surprise, considering what he had done to her. And, from the way Hope was reacting to him, he had hurt her in front of the kids.
Mason tamped down the rage that threatened to boil over. Being angry wouldn’t help anybody.
“So I guess that’s the end of that conversation,” Mason said. He gave Perry a tight smile but narrowed his eyes, letting him know he had other people to deal with, if he thought of doing anything to Tricia or the kids.
“I don’t know who you think you are, but this has nothing to do with you.” Perry walked toward them, his stride confident, as if no one would stop him. “So, Tricia, I know I made some mistakes, but we need to talk.”
“No we don’t. You broke my ribs, sprained my arm, and put me in the hospital,” Tricia spat out, squatting down, her arms closed around her children. “I don’t know what you think we could possibly have to talk about. Except how I’m filing charges against you for assault.”
“Assault?” Perry looked shocked. “How could you? Tricia, you wanted to break up with me… You lied to me.” He stopped there, his voice wavering as if he were on the verge of tears.
If he was acting, he was darn good. If he wasn’t, he was crazy.
“Tricia, honey, I…I made a mistake,” Perry continued. “I know I should have never done that to you. I lost my cool. I never meant…” He glanced at Mason then back at Tricia. “We need to talk, just the two of us. No one else around.”
“Just go away,” Tricia said, lifting her chin. “The only way I’m doing any kind of talking with you is through a lawyer.”
His jaw tightened, and it looked like he was fighting for self-control. Mason could see his hands fisted at his sides.
Perry took another step closer, and Mason held his hand up, putting himself again between him and Tricia and the children. “That’s far enough.” He pulled his phone out. “Take one more step and I’m calling 911.”
Next thing he knew Perry had slapped his phone out of his hand and kicked it aside.
“There’s no need for that,” he said. He smirked at Mason, as if he felt he had gained the upper hand. Then without another look at him he walked past Mason to Tricia. He had his hand out, as if he would grab her arm, but Mason wasn’t getting caught off guard again.
With one quick move, he swept his leg in front of Perry, knocking him off balance. Perry stumbled, caught himself, and whirled around to face Mason.
“Take the kids to the house, Tricia,” Mason said quietly. But he kept his eyes on Perry.
“Stay right here, Tricia. Once I’m done with this loser, we have to talk.” Perry sounded so confident, for a moment Mason wondered if he had made the right decision. But it didn’t matter. Whatever happened, he was giving Tricia enough time to get to the house, lock the door, and call the cops.
She took the kids and headed toward the house. Thankfully, neither Hope nor Cash protested.
Then, unexpectedly, Perry launched himself at Mason. Before he made contact Mason stepped aside, grabbed Perry’s arm, twisted it behind him, and wrapped his other arm around Perry, pulling him close. Then, pulling harder on his arm just to let him know who was in charge, he marched him back to his car, moving quickly so Perry couldn’t catch his balance.
It was that easy. He had guessed correctly. Perry was part bully, part macho bravado.
“Not so easy to do when you’re dealing with another guy, is it?” Mason growled in his ear as he pushed him up against the car.
“I’ll get you for this,” Perry muttered.
Mason laughed. “You’ve got to stop watching those old gangster movies. There’s no way you’re getting me for anything.”
Perry was strong and tried to pull himself free, but Mason had the upper hand, literally. He jerked on Perry’s arm again, eliciting a groan of pain.
A quick glance showed him that Tricia and the children were safely in the house.
He released Perry and stepped back before the guy could get a hit in.
“I will make this suggestion just once,” Mason said, keeping his voice quiet and restrained but his hands balled in fists. “Get in your car, and leave. I won’t press charges against you, but you can be guaranteed Tricia will. Like she said, the next time you’ll hear from her will be through a lawyer.”
“She can’t prove a thing,” Perry growled, tugging on his shirt and running his hand through his hair. “There were no witnesses, nobody. It’s her word against mine.”
“Doesn’t matter. If I ever see you anywhere near here or Tricia or even get a hint or a whiff of your presence and your horrible cologne, I won’t be as careful with you as I was just now.”
“Careful, buddy.” Perry spat the words out, his voice full of contempt. ”I was easy on you because I didn’t want to make a scene in front of Tricia and the kids.”
Mason let a slow smile crawl up his mouth. He rested his fists on his hips and shook his head. “You keep telling yourself that, hotshot,” he said with a sneer. “Now get out of here.”
Perry looked at the house, then back at Mason. “Don’t think you’re anything special to her,” he said. “Tricia is the kind of girl that takes good care of herself. She knew what she was getting into when she hooked up with me.”
Mason took a threatening step toward him, and Perry ducked into his car and slammed the door shut.
“I thought so,” Mason said. He waited until Perry reversed out of the driveway and took off, gravel spitting out from under his tires.
“Some tough guy,” Mason said. But as he watched him leave, he couldn’t stop a flare of apprehension. Something told him that this wouldn’t be the last they would see of this loser.
Correction, the last Tricia would see of him.
Not your circus, not your monkeys.
He picked up his phone and as he turned and walked back to the house, he was surprised by the feeling of protectiveness that washed over him.
Don’t go there. You're here for the horses and then you’re gone. She has two little kids and you can’t mess up their lives.
He just wished he could believe it as fervently as he should.
Tricia watched as Perry’s car drove away, and then the shaking started.
Thankfully, the kids hadn’t complained when she brought them to the house, and, just to give them something else to watch, had turned the television on. Then she closed the door of the family room and walked to the kitchen window to see what was happening.
Mason and Perry were talking to each other, both looking angry. Her heart was pounding in her chest, adrenaline surging through her. She knew how rough Perry could be. She knew the power of his fists.
But it looked as if he realized that Mason was more than a match for him. Then he left.
And Mason was walking up to the house.
He opened the door and stepped inside. His eyes immediately found her. “Where are the kids?”
“I’ve got them watching television in the family room,” Tricia said, disappointed in the wavering of her voice. “I don’t think they realized what was going on. At least I hope they didn’t.”
She couldn’t look Mason in the eyes. It was as if all the bad decisions she had made in the past had coalesced in the form of Perry Markham. What if Mason hadn’t been here? What if she had been by herself? What would’ve happened?
She pressed her hands to her face, trying to hold back the shaking that took over her body. Her stomach lurched with fear and a sob crawled up her throat. Where was her strength? Why couldn’t she seem to stay upright?
Then Mason was in front of her, a tall shield, a wall. His arms slipped around her, holding her close, supporting her. Keeping her from falling.
She knew she should pull away but the fear still roiling in her gut made her rest against him, absorb his strengt
h, lean on him.
The sob she had choked down slipped out, followed by another, and then she was crying, her body shaking with sorrow, reproach, and grief. She clung to him, her shelter, her support.
His arms were strong and warm, his chest broad and solid.
“It’s okay,” he shushed, rocking her, his head resting on hers. “It’s okay. He’s gone.”
Her grief was easing but still he held her.
She closed her eyes, aware of the warmth of his chest, the dampness of the shirt where it had absorbed her sorrow. She didn’t want to leave the shelter of his arms. Didn’t want to face the reality of her life.
But if her children saw—
This one thought seared her and made her withdraw, pushing herself away.
“Sorry,” she said, holding up a hand as if to make him keep his distance. “I shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn't have let you. My kids…”
She let the sentence trail off as her eyes darted to the door to the family room. But it was still closed, and she heard the frenetic music coming from the television.
He followed the direction of her gaze then gave her a sad smile. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”
Nor had she been.
And yet, their eyes held the attraction she knew had been building like a live thing. Breathing, growing, expanding, taking up the space between them.
She swallowed and folded her arms over her chest, knowing she had to keep them occupied or she would flow toward him, slip those same arms around him. Allow herself to be comforted, again, by him.
Shaking those treacherous thoughts off she took another step back away from him. “So now what?”
Mason’s shoulder lifted in a sigh. “I don’t know. I’m not in a good place—”
With a jolt she realized that while she was thinking of Perry, it seemed he was talking about the two of them. Their “relationship,” for lack of a better word.
She adjusted her thoughts.
“Neither am I,” she said, knowing the words would have to come out. “Clearly, as Perry’s unwelcome visit shows. But I also need to know what to do about him.”
“You need to call the police. Put a restraining order on him. Charge him with assault.”
His clipped words, so practical, so cold, pushed her away more forcefully than anything he could have done. And it reminded her, yet again, of the mess her choices had created.
“Okay. I’ll talk to Dad. See how to proceed.” She massaged her temples, trying to ease a throbbing that had started there.
“I think you should call the cops right now. Don’t wait for your father.”
He sounded angry, and she guessed she didn’t blame him. He had just manhandled her old boyfriend risking getting beat up himself. Now she was putting off what she needed to do. Hiding behind her father and brother.
“You’re right,” she said. “I need to take responsibility for my actions.”
He frowned, pulling back. “What do you mean by that?”
“I’m the one who dated him and brought him into my kids’ lives and now yours. I’m so sorry, but I’m also very thankful you were here.”
Mason’s expression softened and his mouth curved into a wisp of a smile. “Me too. I’d hate to think what he would have done.” He nudged her toward the phone. “Now. Call the police.”
“Isn't it too late for that?” Even though Mason had sent him away, seeing him had too easily brought all the memories of his abuse crashing back. The fear. The pain. The utter helplessness.
“Call,” he said, giving her the same look her brothers did when they were serious. “This is something you can do. Some action you can take so you don’t feel like you have no control.”
His words reassured her and, pulling in a steadying breath, she made the call. Her fingers trembled as she punched in the numbers, and she prayed she could sound rational.
She was put through to an officer. Constable Siler. She gave him specific details. Answered his questions as best she could. No, she didn’t remember the number of his license plate but a description of his car should help. There wasn’t much they could do right now, but they would keep his name and description on file.
She thanked them then ended the call, looking down at the handset. “I don’t know if that made any difference,” she said with a sigh. “They told me if he comes again to call them immediately.” She released a harsh laugh. “We’re half an hour out of town. How can that help? By the time they come—”
Her voice broke, and she fought for self-control.
“It puts him on their radar. But I think you should file a restraining order against him. That way if you ever see him again the police will have more to work with.”
The thought of seeing Perry again both frightened and exhausted her, and she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head and forget the past few minutes. Forget she had ever been with him.
“You must wonder what I ever saw in him,” she said, filling the kettle. She took down the teapot and the tea bags.
“He’s kind of good looking.”
Tricia gave him a hard look. “Are you serious?”
“Trying to give you some credit,” he said, his stance easing as he leaned one hip against the counter, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “I don’t think you’d deliberately fall for an idiot.”
“He was charming at first. Just like Drew.”
He said nothing, but she sensed a shift in his attitude. A stiffening of his shoulders. “What do you mean, at first? Was Drew the same way?”
“Drew never hit me,” Tricia protested, filling the teakettle, thankful for something to do. “But he definitely had an edge to him. He was a troublemaker and had a temper but I was never his target.” She released a self-deprecating laugh. “Kane and Lucas always said I was drawn to the bad boys. I told them it was because they reminded me of my brothers.”
“Were your brothers troublemakers?”
“Actually, not so much. They went through the usual teen rebellion stuff. Elliot was the one who was the most challenging.”
“And you?”
“Well, I was the spoiled daughter, the only girl. So yeah, I had my rough times.” She shot him a look, and there it was again. That cautious smile that could be so much more devastating than any Drew had given her. With Mason, even that careful lift of his well-shaped lips felt like a victory. Hard earned and oh, so dangerous.
For a moment she couldn’t look away but then the sound of her children in the other room forced her attention back to the job. While the kettle boiled she checked on them and took them a snack. They took it without a glance her way, their eyes glued to the television. She stroked their heads, which netted her a smile from Cash but nothing from Hope.
Her heart folded at the lack of reaction from her daughter. She had so much to make up for. As she walked back to the kitchen, she glanced at Mason. Be careful, she reminded herself.
“They sure like their television,” he said when she came back.
“They don’t get to watch often, so it’s a real treat for them.”
“Really?”
His question rankled as if he didn't believe her.
“Whenever I was with the kids, I made sure we did things together,” she said. “And when I was working I chose babysitters who wouldn’t let them watch television.” She stopped herself, realizing how prickly she sounded.
“Sorry, I realize how that came out. I wasn’t trying to criticize you. Just…trying to make conversation. Ordinary conversation.”
His apology eased the tension from her shoulders. Again their eyes met. Again that spark of awareness crackled between them.
She moved past him to the cupboard beside the sink then made a face. The teapot was on the top shelf. But just as she was about to reach up for it, Mason moved past her, gently pushed her arm away, and took it down for her.
His touch was electric, and once again she was fighting her reaction to him.
With
murmured thanks she turned back to the kettle and poured the boiling water into the teapot. She couldn’t lose control now. They would be spending a lot more time together.
“Tell me where the cups are and I’ll get them too,” Mason was saying, now standing right beside her as she pulled a jar of honey out of the cupboard.
“I can get them. Just sit down.”
“My mother didn’t raise me to be waited on hand and foot,” he said.
“Wow. I wish I could say the same for my brothers.” Her hands were full, so she angled her chin toward the cupboard. “Mugs are on the bottom, cups and saucers matching the teapot on the top.”
“Cups and saucers? What kind of self-respecting cowboy uses cups and saucers?”
“The kind my mom raised,” Tricia said, bringing the teapot to the table. She checked on the kids once more but they were still engrossed in the adventures of a young boy and his faithful dogs.
“Wow. I grew up with two girls, but I can’t imagine my mother putting out china.”
But to her surprise he chose the cups and saucers, setting them carefully on the table.
She didn’t like how her hands shook as she set the teapot on the table. Probably a delayed reaction to Perry showing up, she thought curling her hands into fists.
“You okay?” His voice was quiet and gentle, and it was almost her undoing. If she told him exactly how she felt, she would break down again.
“Been better, but I’ll get through this.”
He poured the tea, and she gave him a careful smile, lifting the cup and blowing on it. Something to do. Something to occupy herself while she struggled to maintain her composure. She hated that he was a witness to the mess of her life and, even worse, that he had to defend her.
“Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”
She wanted to shake her head, put him off.
“Are you still afraid that Perry will come back?”
“What do I do if he does?”
“He’s a bully. I think you need to stand up to him.”
Tricia shot him a wry look. “Says the guy with the six-pack and broad shoulders.”
To her surprise Mason looked uncomfortable.
The Cowboy's Family (Family Ties Book 2) Page 10
