Hitched (Tarnation, Texas Book 1), page 9
Taking a long sip from his glass, he said, “The wealthy woman jilted at the altar who wore her wedding dress every day for the rest of her life?” He resisted the urge to swallow the wine like a shot.
“Ah, we have a Charles Dickens fan among us?” Finally, she allowed a smile to turn her lips.
“Believe it or not, I’m more than just a pretty face.” He chuckled.
When she bent her knee his gaze automatically drifted to her nice long legs, slender ankles, and brightly painted toes before he forced his attention to her eyes…her lovely eyes that were on him in such a way…more than a look but a vocabulary full of possibilities. Damn, he’d never been a romantic so where the hell were the thoughts coming from? Why did he see her, and his mind wandered to ideas of candlelight dinners and long walks at sunset?
Oh shit! He really needed to take a close look at his emotions.
“Well, my aunt is a perfect example of the jilted lover. She was head over heels in love once, but things surprisingly ended. Stella had a stubborn streak and she didn’t apologize. Then one day he came to a mutual friend’s party and introduced his lovely fiancé. Although there is no altar or lace wedding dress, Stella never got over the wounds of a broken heart. It seemed every man thereafter didn’t quite stack up to the man of her dreams.” With a sad sigh, she put her glass down and turned back to tend to the sizzling pan.
He broke off two stalks of celery. “The moral of the story is…”
“If and when in love, tell them, shout it from the rooftops, or else stay safe and protected, and never fall in the first place.”
“Wow. That was a bit morose. Does that mean that you have a little Miss Havisham also?” Damn. Had he really just said that? Would she get pissed?
“No, it means I’m a little relationship shy. I saw my parent’s relationship and it was the most valuable life lesson of all.”
So, she had a story to tell.
“Go on,” he urged.
The spoon paused as if she was deciding whether she wanted to continue or not. “Basically, Dad had a love affair with a whiskey bottle and one day he was gone. Just like that.”
The sadness in her tone tugged at the compassionate strings to his heart. “Buzz left my mom, brother, and me when I was ten. I never saw him again.” Did he just reveal that to her? He never spoke to anyone about his childhood, especially not about his absent father.
“I wondered what the story was. He always seemed…well, void of emotion. Like he was missing something.”
“I doubt it was us.”
“You said you and your brother…but don’t you have three more brothers?”
He nodded. “Brennan and I had no idea that they existed. I mean, I guess we knew it was possible that somewhere out in the big world Buzz could have more kids, but little did we know that they were living only a few hours away.”
Her gaze was on him in a mixture of confusion and bewilderment. “Wait, you’re telling me that you just recently met your siblings?”
“Wild, huh?”
“Yes, it is. Now you have to figure out what to do with Grinning Spurs and his properties?”
“Pretty much.” He saw her lips thin. “You’re worried about your business.”
She didn’t look at him but stared into the pan while she stirred with lackluster effort. “Shouldn’t I be? This is a small town. Where will I move Bluebonnet to?”
“Your mom opened the bakery, right? Where is she now? I overheard you telling Stella that she’s your responsibility.”
“It’s rude listening in on other peoples’ conversations.”
“You told me that before. I never said I was a saint. Now, come on, what about your mom?”
With a small shrug, she poured more wine into her glass. Would she tell him to mind his own business?
“We first started noticing a bit of a slur to her speech, but the doctor wrote it off as dental issues. Then came issues with her motor skills. She walked with a shuffle, tremors in her hands, and she kept falling. Not long after she began to forget things…everyday things like her appointments, ingredients for recipes, even how to walk home from the bakery. Eventually she was diagnosed with early onset Parkinson’s Disease. Then things got so bad that I had no choice but to place her in a nursing home for her safety. It was the hardest decision I had to make, but she and I had a long talk before. She knew it was time which didn’t make it any easier.”
“Now you’re left with the responsibility of the bakery, your brother, and your mother.” His chest tightened.
“Don’t say it like it’s a burden. I love my family and the Bluebonnet. It could be a lot worse.”
“Yeah? You’re thirty going on fifty.”
“That’s not very nice. Not a good way to bury that proverbial hatchet. You don’t know me, or my life, well enough to pass judgement.” She pointed the spoon at him.
“You’re right. I was out of line.” Why would he say something like that? It seemed he lost control of his tongue when he was near her.
“Did you buy me the phone because you feel sorry for me?” There was a softness to her voice that reached in and grabbed ahold of his heart. An independent woman like Abriella wouldn’t want to be pitied or found weak, so he couldn’t tell her that a part of him had felt guilty after hearing her conversation at the diner. They had something in common. Pride. It had been a barrier for him most of his life, never letting anyone beyond a certain point in his feelings. It had also become his cage and he recognized that in her.
“I bought it because now I can call you,” he blurted out, and it was partly the truth.
Several expressions flitted across her face. “Call me? Why would you want to call me?”
“Because I’m bound and determined to prove to you that I’m nothing like my father.”
Her eyes turned a shade darker. “I owe you an apology. I’m sorry that I put down Buzz, and then negatively compared you to him. Just as I accused you of not knowing me enough to judge me, I didn’t know him well enough to judge either. I don’t know what came over me. I usually am not so abrasive.”
“People who are angry tend to say things from the heart. If it makes you feel any better, I’m not too fond of him myself. I know him as the man who abandoned his family, and we were the balls and chains that he cut ties with so he could live his life with his mistress, but apparently he wasn’t happy with her either. He left a trail of disasters. You said your father loved his whiskey. Well, our father had horses that were his top priority. I can’t figure out why—” he stopped. He couldn’t reveal to her all the stipulations in Buzz’s will.
“Sometimes we have to give up trying to figure people out. For years I wondered what was so wrong about me and my brother that we weren’t enough for our father to stop drinking. I mean, I knew he could make a better choice. I have memories of him sober and they were good times. Happy times. He built forts with us, read books, made silly shaped pancakes for breakfast. He even dressed up with me as a princess to make me smile. Then it was like a flip of a switch, and the flips became more frequent as the days passed. Things never were the same at some point. I gave up wondering about him, where he went, and what he did with himself. If he would be safe. His leaving had been inevitable.”
Baxter’s throat constricted. They had even more in common than he first thought. Her explanation of her feelings matched his own. The flipping of a switch and always wondering until there was nothing left to wonder about.
“The celery and carrots are done. What can I do now?”
“We need a leek. They’re over there.”
Baxter examined the vegetables in the basket. He recognized beets and onions, so he picked up the only vegetable remaining. “I have no idea how to cut this thing up,” he admitted.
“I thought you said you were a chef?”
“I made that up. I had to so you’d let me help.”
“Come on. Let’s switch.” She held up the spoon and traded it for the leek.
While she rinsed and washed the vegetable, he tended to stirring the chicken that was almost done browning.
“Maybe it’s none of my business, but I’m wondering what it’s like living with three strangers?” She grabbed a piece of sliced carrot and popped it into her mouth.
“About as good as can be expected,” he answered grumpily.
“Oh, that good, huh?” she laughed.
“Actually, we never see each other. We’re always running in different directions.”
“That’s a little sad. I know it must be awkward suddenly finding out that you have siblings you’ve never met, but you should think of this as an opportunity to get to know each other.”
If only this was a “get to know you” vacation.
“The chicken is done. Where would you like it?”
“We’ll put the vegetables in the large pot and soften them a bit and then the chicken will go in.”
“I can handle that.” He transferred the carrots and celery and stirred them together with some olive oil.
“Thank you for your help. You’re right. Cooking is always better with two people.”
If she only knew how much he enjoyed being here. It was the best conversation he’d had in a long time.
The meal was shared over casual conversation and, when it was over, she brought out a plate of several types of cookies.
“I need to borrow your taste buds,” she said the words with a smile that could end wars.
“Borrow away.” He accepted the chocolate cookie and bit into it. “Wow. That’s good.”
“Here. Try this one.”
By the time he’d sampled every variety she’d pushed his way, he was a little overwhelmed at what she expected of him. “You want me to choose which one I like best? They’re all good.”
They were sitting next to each other on the couch. She had her legs crisscrossed with the plate of cookies sitting on her lap. Her hair, pulled into a ponytail, made her look much younger than her actual age. “Come on. There’s a difference in them.”
“Are these for the baking contest?”
“I forgot that you overheard that conversation. Usually at this point, with days left until the contest, I’d have it nailed down what I’m going to make. I keep self-doubting myself and I’m getting frustrated.”
“I’m not a professional, but you should go with your gut.”
“That’s just it. My gut is hidden underneath all the self-doubt.”
“I have an idea. Do you have a scarf?” Her eyes widened, and her mouth twisted. He chuckled. “I promise, what I have in mind is G-rated.”
“On the hook by the door. Next to your hat.”
He grabbed the blue silk and came back to her. “Will you trust me?”
There was a second’s hesitation where he thought she’d send him packing, but then she nodded. “Sure.”
Standing behind the couch, he fitted the scarf over her eyes and tied it. “That’s not too tight, is it?”
“No.”
“Can you see anything?” He waved a hand in front of her face.
“Not a thing.”
“Good.” He sat down on the coffee table so he could face her and took one of the cookies off the plate. “Open.”
“Baxter?”
The way she said his name, in a teasing way, made his heart race. “Just open.” She did and he touched the cookie to her bottom lip. She bit into it and he watched her chew. “What do you taste?”
“This one has espresso.”
He bit into the same cookie. Now that she pointed out the extra ingredient, he could taste it. “Now for the next one.”
“Ah, cinnamon. Not as good as the first.”
He agreed.
They went through several more. “You have a bit of chocolate on your lips.”
“Oh.” She swiped her fingers over her mouth, but she missed the spot.
“Here, let me help.” He used his thumb to wipe the crumb. Her breathing became labored and her chest rose and fell, and her nipples were beaded under her shirt. Swallowing hard, he said, “Before we take the blindfold off, think of which cookie you loved. What secret ingredient not only satisfied your taste buds, but also your stomach?”
“The first. Definitely. But I think I know what I can do to add another layer of flavor.” She reached up and swiped the scarf from her eyes. “Thank you. That helped.”
She then embraced him with what he suspected was meant to be a friendly hug, but when her arms loosened from around his neck and she pulled back, her eyes were glossy and things took on a different feel all together. They came together so easily, lips touching, tongues meeting, sighs mingling. He cupped her face with his hands and kissed her slowly, tasting chocolate and strawberry wine on her. It seemed fitting. He loved how soft she felt in his arms, and how she smelled like buttercream frosting when he dragged her closer.
He was fully engrossed in holding her, sampling her lovely lips, when he felt her hands press against his chest. It took him two seconds to realize she was pushing him away. He drew back, examining her wild-lit eyes and moist lips that were slightly parted. God, how had he let things spiral so out of control?
“I’m sorry, Abriella—”
“No, it’s my fault. I mean, no one is at fault, not really. It just happened.”
Baxter stood and felt the ache behind his zipper. Taking two painful steps, he gritted his teeth and moved even farther away. Distance was the solution. “I hope you don’t think that’s why I came here.”
She was on her feet now too. “No. I-I, well, I’m a little confused at the moment.”
What could he say? He was confused too.
“I think it’s best for me to go.” He made his way to the door in three strides, grabbed his hat and looked back at her. She looked so young, vulnerable, standing there watching him. Would she call him back? Lord, he wanted her to, but she wasn’t ready—
they weren’t ready for things to go to the next level.
CHAPTER 8
Abriella pulled up into the parking lot and shut off the engine. She looked over at Baxter who was grinning from the passenger seat. She was glad there wasn’t any residual awkwardness or discomfort from the kiss they shared.
“Is this a church?” He leaned close to her and peered through her window.
His thick bicep pressed against her shoulder and she swallowed hard. “Yes, church, but not for service.” She pulled the handle and climbed out, waiting for him to meet her on the sidewalk. He pressed his Stetson on his head as he rounded the truck. She watched him stroll toward her, easy and smooth. His clothes were an extension of his body. The checked button down fit his toned chest and broad shoulders, accentuating every solid bend. His waist tapered to lean hips, accentuated by a large silver belt buckle.
Feeling her heart flutter, she ran her palm down her tight braid and inhaled sharply. He was smiling from ear to ear and all she could think about was how she fantasized about their kiss with every waking moment.
Clattering of pots and pans and low chatter came from the back of the church fellowship hall and she took the lead into the kitchen. She pecked Harry on the shoulder. He turned and gave her a wide smile. “Hey, glad you could make it.” Some of the shine was lost to his smile when he saw Baxter. “Looks like you brought company.”
“Harry Gaines, this is Baxter Colt.”
The men greeted each other with a hand shake, but there was an underlying tension that Abriella didn’t understand. Clearing her throat, she said, “You have two aprons, Harry?”
“Sure. Let me grab them for you.”
Baxter bent his face close to her ear. “I asked for a tour. What’s this?”
“I am giving you a tour. Sometimes to get to the heart of a town a person must first swim through reality. You ever volunteer at a soup kitchen before?” Taking the aprons that Harry offered, she pressed one into Baxter’s chest.
“Can’t say I have, but I’m always willing to give anything a try.”
He looked pretty handsome, even in an apron, although it barely covered his broad chest.
“Abriella, I’ll have you take the front. We need someone on the mashed potatoes. Baxter, can you handle opening cans and stirring? We need some beans warmed up,” Harry said.
Taking his hat off and placing it on the coat rack, he grinned. “Show me to the cans.”
She stood in the doorway watching long enough that she realized Baxter wasn’t lying when he said he was willing to give it a try. Although she realized this wasn’t the evening he was hoping for, he was still on board.
Buzz Colt would have never volunteered at a soup kitchen, but he had donated enough money that the church could serve meals to the less fortunate for a few more years. Apparently, Baxter had no idea.
Although she hadn’t quite opened herself up to trust Baxter completely, the truth was, he was showing her another part of him that she respected…maybe even liked a bit more than she expected.
An hour later, as she was spooning a helping of mashed potatoes onto a plate, she looked up and saw Baxter tossing a ball with six-year-old Elijah. His eyes were as bright as his smile and it touched Abriella.
How could Baxter—someone so strong, so tough appearing—be so gentle and kind? She was learning about him quickly…and yet he was still a mystery. What she did know, she wanted to get to know him even better, learn all his secrets, what made him tick. And she wouldn’t mind kissing him again either.
“Abriella?”
Dragged from her thoughts, she smiled at the elderly woman standing across from her. “Hi, Agnus. Did you want more mashed potatoes?”
“Yes, dear. I’ll take more.” She held up her tray and Abriella scooped a large helping of potatoes onto her plate. Agnus had celebrated her ninety-fifth birthday recently and she had no close family.
“Are you ready for more vegetables, Agnus? I have a basket full in the truck. I can bring them over after I’m done cleaning up here.”
“You know I love your tomatoes. The only plan I have this evening is to watch my shows. I always welcome your company.” Her eyes crinkled as she smiled.
