Tempting in Texas

by Delores Fossen

  Hayes approved of the marriage and thought that Leyton and his sister would smooth out each other’s rough edges. That, and they were crazy in love. Plus, Hadley could continue to do her costume designs from here, so it would give her a way to carry on her career while actually having a life.

  “Leaving for your date with Cait?” Hadley asked. Oh, yeah. She knew about his lie, and while this wasn’t exactly a quiz, she was letting him know she wasn’t buying his BS.

  “Soon.” He brushed a kiss on her cheek. And promptly switched the subject. “What are you doing here?”

  “Helping Em with a few chores and working on the wedding dresses. Say, are you up to feeding a duck before you leave?”

  “A duck?” Hayes frowned. “Is that some kind of euphemism or code?”

  Hadley shook her head. “Nope. It’s a real duck named Slackers. Are your ribs healed enough to feed it?”

  He gave her a flat look. “I’m fine. Plenty healed enough to handle a duck.”

  “Maybe not this one. It belongs to Sunny, and he’s meaner than a barrel of pissed-off snakes.”

  “Why the heck would anyone own a mean duck?”

  Hadley shrugged. “It was a gift. A connection to the books that Sunny illustrates.”

  Slackers Quackers. Hayes knew about those. Hadn’t known about the real-life duck.

  “Anyway,” Hadley went on, “Em had Slackers brought over here so that Sunny wouldn’t try to take care of it herself, but Em’s busy with some beading on the dresses and asked me to do it. I would, but the last time I tried, Slackers pecked the crap out of me.”

  “And you don’t think it’ll try to peck me?” he asked.

  “No, I’m sure he will,” Hadley readily admitted, smiling. “Slackers is an equal opportunity pecker, but I thought I could spread the fowl assaults around. I’ll ask McCall to take duck duties tomorrow. Then I’ll be back on board for Wednesday. By then, my current welts should have healed, and I’ll be able to handle the new ones.”

  Ah, family. Sometimes sharing involved pecks, welts and other pitfalls, and if it was his turn in the feeding barrel, he would manage. After all, a mean duck was still just a duck.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Hayes assured her.

  “Good. The feed’s in the barn in a bin by the first stall. Just remember to close the barn door after you feed him, or he’ll get out. Don’t want Sunny freaking out if we have to tell her we lost her brat of a duck.” Hadley was about to walk away, probably to join Em in the sewing room, but Hayes stopped her with a question.

  “Any updates about Sunny?” he asked.

  “She’s fine. No more spotting. We’re still holding her off, though, on doing too much for the weddings.”

  Hayes was betting it wasn’t easy to keep her on light duty. The weddings were only three weeks away, and Sunny would want her hand in that.

  Hadley turned back to face him. Then hesitated. “I’m going to tell you something, but you should try to stay calm.”

  Hayes figured there was little else she could have said that would have made him feel the opposite of staying calm. “I’m not Sunny,” he reminded her. “Spill it.”

  His sister gave an “all right” nod. And then dropped a bomb. “Sunshine called Sunny last night.”

  “Shit.” Their mother was definitely a pitfall and far worse than any demon duck could ever be, and Hayes lost any shred of calm. Just the thought of Sunshine could make his blood boil. “What the hell did she want?”

  “An invitation to the wedding. Apparently, she gave Sunny a sob story about wanting to see us all find our happily-ever-afters.”

  “Right,” he grumbled. “She’s up to something.”

  Hadley didn’t hesitate with the sound of agreement she made. “Shaw’s on it and will take any other call from her. He doesn’t want our Satan’s spawn of a mother upsetting Sunny.”

  Good. Shaw could handle that, but Hayes could work it from his angle, too. Basically, that would mean calling Sunshine and telling her to back the fuck off. He couldn’t be even marginally polite with the woman because she would take it as an opening to try to do whatever she had up her sleeve.

  “She probably thinks she can record the ceremony and get a crap-load of money for it when she sells it to the tabloids,” Hadley suggested.

  Yeah, and that meant he definitely needed to have that talk with her and lay down the law. He didn’t want Sunshine anywhere near his sisters. “Isn’t there still a restraining order against Sunshine?” he asked.

  Hadley nodded. “It was part of a deal she worked out with Em. But Sunshine wants that order to be lifted long enough for her to come to the wedding. That’s not going to happen.”

  No, it wouldn’t, and Hayes was trying to figure out how best to keep Sunshine at bay as he started toward the door. But Hadley stopped him again.

  “Do I need to thank you for the two new contracts I got to do some costumes for a TV pilot and a music video?” she asked.

  “No.” He could answer that truthfully. No thanks was needed.

  She rolled her eyes, kissed his cheek. “Thanks. I know you had a hand in it, maybe more than a hand,” she amended, “and I appreciate it.”

  He shrugged, not comfortable with the praise. He was just doing what any brother should do.

  “You’re a great designer,” he told her. “Those people are lucky to get you.”

  Apparently, Hadley wasn’t comfortable with praise, either, because she did some shrugging, too.

  After kissing her cheek, he made his way out of the house and toward the barn. It wasn’t far, but the porch steps caused him a few winces. Maybe the duck wouldn’t add to those aches. Even if it did, he didn’t intend to complain to anyone about it. He didn’t mind scuffing up his tough-guy image, but he didn’t want it torn to shreds.

  Hayes had just reached the barn door when Cait’s SUV pulled into the driveway in front of the house. She was early, which was fine. This way they could take their time getting to San Antonio.

  She spotted him, waved and then started toward him. Hayes forgot all about winces and possible image-ruining pecks as he watched her.

  Oh, man.

  Cait certainly had a way of capturing his complete attention, and she did it with seemingly no effort whatsoever. Today, though, he thought she might have indeed made an effort.

  She was wearing a denim skirt instead of her usual jeans and sandals and a top that was the color of ripe peaches. Her hair was down, and it spilled over her shoulders in a way that reminded him of the night of her twenty-first birthday. No wispiness, though. Nor was there any sweat. Not yet, anyway. But it was Texas hot today, so there was still a chance of that.

  Her stride was as no-nonsense as the rest of her. She didn’t swagger or move her hips the way some women did. It was just the steady, brisk pace of long, shapely female legs that brought her closer to him.

  When she stopped next to him, Hayes caught her scent—where there might be some “nonsense” after all. She smelled like a meadow of softly scented flowers. And sin. Heavy on the sin. And he didn’t think he was projecting.

  “I have to feed the duck,” he told her.

  She blinked, and what he thought might be some mild horror crept into her eyes. “Slackers is in there?” she asked, tipping her head to the barn.

  It might not have been a very manly reaction, but her obvious fear tightened his gut a little. “You know about Slackers?”

  “Everybody knows about that feathered he-witch.” Her answer was fast. Her expression as serious as if they’d been talking about Jack the Ripper. “The only ones who can feed that little turd without getting welts are Sunny and Em. Why did Em want you to do this?”

  “Not Em. Hadley. And I more or less accepted the challenge because I thought she was BS-ing me about how mean Slackers is.”

  She looked at him with what
could have been sympathy. Not the sympathy she’d doled out to him over his pain. No, this was more for his gullibility in letting Hadley talk him into taking on this chore.

  “There’s no BS exaggeration when it comes to Slackers,” she declared, and Cait took the wooden rake that was propped against the side of the barn. “Let me help you get him into his pen. If you try to feed him while he’s loose, he’ll come at you.”

  “Crap,” Hayes grumbled. “If this duck is so bad, why isn’t he kept in the pen all the time?”

  “Em thinks he needs exercise.” Cait rolled her eyes at that. “He’ll get it, too, when he comes flying at us. I’ll go in ahead of you. Grab a broom or whatever else you can find once you’re in there, and then bat it around until you can corral him into his pen.”

  “But we’re not actually going to hit the duck, are we?” Hayes asked. He might have a tough-guy image on TV, but the idea of hitting a critter, even an ornery one, didn’t hold any appeal to him.

  “No hitting,” Cait assured him. “Just protect yourself by swatting around whatever you find. Slackers is plenty fast enough to avoid a strike, but we can use his dodging to steer him in the direction we need him to go.”

  It sounded like a battle plan, and he glanced back at the house to make sure Hadley wasn’t watching—and giggling—from the window. But nothing. If his sister had any watching or giggling plans, she was staying out of sight.

  Since she was “armed” with the rake, he did let Cait go in first, and Hayes snagged a broom that was by one of the stalls. They stepped in, closing the door, and he used his elbow to turn on the switch for the stingy overhead light. It was just one dangling exposed bulb of seriously low wattage. With the door closed, there were plenty of dark corners and spaces for an ornery duck to hide.

  “I don’t see him,” Cait whispered.

  Just as all hell broke loose.

  The sound was something Hayes thought he might hear again in nightmares for years to come. It was sort of a screaming squawk, accompanied by wing flaps so loud that they could have come from a condor. This was no condor, though. It was a white duck—yeah, and he was seriously pissed off—and he swooped seemingly out of nowhere, dive-bombing right at them.

  Cait used the rake to deflect him, and with what had to be record-breaking agility for a duck, Slackers dodged Cait and came at Hayes. He held up the broom like a shield. Good thing, too, because Slackers tried to peck the crap out of it.

  Hayes had to keep dodging, deflecting, because Slackers just continued on swooping, trying to peck and maim. Cait used Hayes’s maneuverings to hurry to the pen and yanked open the mesh wire door. She also scooped up some feed and threw it inside the pen.

  He wasn’t sure if ducks had actual nostrils, but Slackers had no trouble smelling his lunch, and he must have been hungry. Well, hungry-ish. The damn critter got in a few more peck attempts before it lit down onto the ground and waddled into the pen. Hayes thought it looked like a victory waddle, too, coupled with a smirk that Slackers gave when he shot a look back at them.

  The moment the duck was inside the pen, Cait slammed the door shut and threw down the latch. Good grief, both Cait and he were breathing hard, and her hair that’d looked so sexy and flowing just minutes earlier was now mussed. Hayes figured he was plenty mussed, too, and he probably had bits of pecked-off broom straw all over him.

  “Why isn’t his feed in the pen?” Hayes asked in the midst of all that heavy breathing. “Then he might never come out.”

  “Again, that’s Em’s doing. She’s delusional about Slackers and thinks he can be treated like a normal farm animal and fed like other ducks. He’s not normal. He’s batshit.” Her head whipped up, and her gaze snapped to his. “Sorry about that.”

  It took him a moment to realize why she might be apologizing. “You think you offended me because I might be batshit, too?”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s, uh, just an insensitive thing to say, considering we’re about to leave for your appointment.”

  Hayes listened for any hints of judgment about that from her, but there weren’t any. Just the embarrassment because she’d inadvertently made a reference that might or might not have applied to his current mental state.

  “It’s a bad cliché, I know,” he said. “An actor in therapy.”

  “Maybe it’s a cliché for a reason,” she muttered. “As in maybe it’s needed for someone in a profession where make-believe can be just as real as reality.”

  “Maybe,” he repeated. “But I know what people say. What the hell do I have to be depressed about? I’m rich and successful. Hell, women throw panties at me.”

  “I’ll bet some do that while they’re still wearing them.” Her lips bent a little with a dry smile.

  It was the perfect thing to say, and despite the battle with Slackers that they’d just had, the moment seemed sort of perfect, too. Not for what he wanted to do—which was kiss her—but the perfect time to get something off his chest.

  “I’ve been on antidepressants for a while now,” he confessed. “That’s why I need this appointment, so I can get a refill. I also need to get what I call a tune-up. I just have to talk a few things out with someone who knows how to handle the mess going on in my head.”

  Again, he watched for any signs that Cait would indeed think he was batshit. Or too self-absorbed Hollywood.

  Or the worst—that he was someone to be pitied.

  He could handle the first two but not the third. Pity was what people had doled out to him when his sisters were in the spotlight during the Little Cowgirls years. Pity was what made you feel like nothing.

  But again, Cait didn’t appear to do any judging or pitying. “You lost a dear friend in one of the worst kind of ways. That sucks, and if the meds and tune-ups get you through that, then that’s what you should do. The mistake would be not getting the help you need.”

  Like her panty remark, it was the right thing to say. Still, it was damn hard for him to dump all of this on Cait. Hard, sometimes, for him to dump it on himself. Hard to accept that he had some broken pieces inside him that might never be all put back together again.

  There was shame over not being able to handle the depression. Shame at not being able to fix himself. He was a man, after all. The big brother. The one who should be able to mend himself and everything around him. Because of the therapy he’d had, Hayes had figured out that the feeling of shame went back to his childhood. The roots were there—of Sunshine creating the havoc and then insisting they all deal with it.

  On their own.

  No way in hell would she have wanted it to get out that one of her kids was in therapy. Then the press might get wind of it and speculate that she wasn’t the perfect mother that she pretended to be in front of the camera.

  He hated Sunshine for that. But sometimes he hated himself even more for not being able to take that power away from her and make himself whole again. His imperfect mother didn’t deserve to have the right to mess with his mind like this.

  “I’ll bet you’ve never seen a shrink or been on antidepressants,” Hayes threw out there.

  “No,” she agreed, but then she paused. In the quiet, Hayes could hear Slackers pecking at his food. “But I’ll bet you’ve never had cramps from hell and needed double doses of extra-strength Midol.”

  Whatever he’d been expecting her to say, that hadn’t been it. And it worked. It pushed away those lingering bad thoughts of Sunshine and turned his attention back to Cait. “Uh, that’s true.”

  She made a sound as if she’d just proved her point and turned back toward the duck. “And I’m kind of sorry I just told you that. I should have come up with a different comparison.”

  “Like maybe pimple cream or wart-remover drops?” he tried, hoping to steer this back in a lighter direction.

  It worked. She made a snarky little chuckle that sounded like music to his ears. “Yea
h, but you’re never going to forget the ‘cramps from hell’ confession. You’ll never be able to see another bottle of Midol without thinking of me.”

  That was possibly true. Then again, there were a lot of things that would make him think of Cait. Including the image of her standing there with that rake still in her hand. It was a good image. Because her face was glowing a little, maybe from perspiration, but she was definitely in the wispy realm right now. And she looked good enough to eat. Or kiss.

  Kissing her was probably the better option.

  But not a wise one. Still, he’d done plenty of other unwise things that hadn’t given him as much of a kick of pleasure as kissing Cait would. However, before he could jump into that unwiseness, his phone rang.

  The sound cut through the barn and sent the duck squawking and flapping its wings. It didn’t have a much better effect on Hayes when he saw Frances Weston’s name on the screen. Hell. He hoped Shayla’s mom wasn’t calling to tell him that her daughter had skipped out of the treatment facility and was up to her old stalking tricks.

  “I should take this,” he said, showing Cait the screen before he put the call on speaker.

  There was nothing Frances could say about Shayla that Hayes didn’t want Cait to hear. After all, this might turn into a police matter if Shayla was on her way back to Lone Star Ridge to violate that restraining order he still had on her.

  “Don’t hang up,” the caller said the moment she was on the line. Not Frances but rather Shayla. “Please. Don’t hang up. I just need to talk to you for a minute. It’s part of my therapy.”

  Hayes huffed. “Did you steal your mom’s phone, or is she in on this?”

  “I, uh, borrowed it. But that’s not important.”

  Yeah, it was, because it meant Frances probably didn’t have a clue that her daughter had lifted her phone to make a call she shouldn’t be making. It also likely meant this wasn’t actually any part of therapy.

  “I need to apologize to you,” Shayla went on. “I’m so sorry about everything I did, but I’m especially sorry about the accident. You know the last thing I’d want to do is hurt you.”