A Family Kind of Wedding (23 page)

His smile fell away from his face.

“He wanted to come out and meet Josh, and during the course of our conversation—which could only be described as tense, at best—he let it be known that he's grateful to you for finding his grandson and that you'll be paid for your trouble.”

Every muscle in his body seemed to tighten, and his face, so congenial minutes before, took on the expression of a harsh, unbending cowboy. “You want an explanation.”

“Not just an explanation, but a damned good one,” she clarified, her fingers curling around the strap of her purse.

Luke glanced at the house. “Maybe we'd better go inside.”

“So Josh can hear this? He doesn't much like you, to begin with. I think this would only make things worse.”

“Fair enough.” He rested his buttocks against the fender of his pickup, folded his arms over his chest and stared so hard at her she nearly looked away. But she didn't. She was too hurt. Too upset. And too damned mad.

“When Ralph and I made the deal on the ranch, he sweetened the pot a tad.”

She was shaking inside. She didn't want to hear his confession but wouldn't have missed it for the world. This was a man she had trusted, believed in, made love with. She'd given him her heart, though she'd die before admitting it. And he'd betrayed her. Used her. Played her for a fool. Well, she wasn't having any more of it. “How did he ‘sweeten the pot'?”

“A few more dollars if I found out whether or not his son had fathered a child.”

She'd suspected it, of course, been darned-near sure that this was the explanation she would eventually hear after her talk with Ralph Sorenson, but the bald facts, the depth of the deception that went into the lie, hit her hard, like a blow to the stomach. “I hope it was worth it,” she said through lips that barely moved. Inside she was shaking, quivering with a rage that burned bright in her soul.

“Katie—” He reached for her, but she ducked away, holding up her hands as she backed up a step and shook her head.

“Enough already.”

“Just listen.”

“I think I've heard enough to last me a lifetime, Gates.” She turned on her heel and marched to her father's Jeep.

“If you would let me explain…”

“What?” Again she turned. “How you lied to me? Deceived me? Seduced me?
Used
me and my son for your personal gain? Is that what you want me to listen to? Well, forget it. It's over, Luke.” She felt a tiny shaft of sadness. “It really was over before it began.” She yanked open the door of her father's rig. “The only thing you need to remember is that the rent's due on the first.” She slid into the hot interior and told herself it was better this way. Pumping the gas and turning on the ignition, she was reminded that she'd done just fine without Luke Gates in her life before; she could darned well do it again. She didn't need anyone but Josh.

She reversed into the street, her eyes trained on the rearview mirror, then she threw the Jeep into first and roared away from Luke Gates. This time it would be forever.

Katie pulled into the drive of her old cottage and felt a tug on her heartstrings. She climbed out of the Jeep and walked the familiar path to the back door, smiling as she saw Josh's old basketball hoop still hanging lopsidedly from the garage. The trail Blue had worn from the front of the house to the back was still visible, a crooked ribbon of dirt in the grass, and the vegetable garden, hardly more than a tangle of weeds, displayed a few pumpkins yet to ripen, a couple of oversize zucchini squash and three vines of tomatoes with fruit threatening to rot.

She'd hired a yard crew to clean up the place, and repairmen were scheduled to fix the dripping bathroom faucet, sagging gutters and somehow shore up the garage. Jarrod had promised to mend the screen, and the twins had volunteered to patch the nail holes in the walls and help her paint next weekend. By then, she hoped, she'd have a tenant to help pay for the upgrades as well as cover the payments on her mortgage.

She heard the crunch of tires on gravel before she saw the nose of a maroon minivan pull in behind the Jeep. A tall, lean man climbed from behind the wheel, and she had the vague sensation she'd seen him somewhere before. His hair was a little long and shot with the same gray that silvered his short-cropped beard and mustache. Dark glasses covered his eyes, and the bill of a baseball cap shaded his forehead.

“Are you Katie Kinkaid?”

“Yes.”

He grinned and showed off white teeth that seemed in contrast to his disheveled appearance. He wore brown coveralls that had a few oil spills on them, and a faded red rag, streaked with grease, poked out of his back pocket.

“Hi.” His hand shot out, and she noticed his fingernails were dirty as she offered her palm and felt the strength of his clasp. “Benjamin Francis.” He nodded toward the house. “This is a nice place, looks like it might work for me and my wife. I work at a gas station in Ashland, and she teaches preschool.”

That explained his work clothes, though she wondered why there wasn't a logo for the station or his name embroidered on his coveralls. There was something about him that didn't ring true, made her ill at ease, though she couldn't explain why.

“Can you give me a look at the inside?”

“Sure.” She told herself her case of nerves was unjustified and unlocked the back door. The heat of the day had settled into the house, leaving it sweltering. As she reached for the latch of the window, she said, “I have a few repairs that will be made before anyone moves in. I plan to paint, clean the carpets, wax the floors and—”

She heard him walk in behind her, close the door and turn the lock. “Don't bother with the window.” His voice was low, the command sharp.

She froze. “But it's beastly in here, and there's a good cross breeze—” Turning, she found him leaning against the door, blocking her way out, and his expression had turned from friendly to hard and calculating.

“I have a confession to make,” he said.

But she already understood as she mentally scraped off his beard and removed his hat. She swallowed back her fear as she recognized him. Her blood turned to ice.

“I'm not Ben Francis.”

“I know.”

His eyes glinted with a malevolent light. “I don't believe we've met.”

“We didn't have to,” she said, fighting a feeling damned close to terror climbing up her spine. “I know who you are, Ray Dean. I just don't understand what you want from me.”

* * *

Luke yanked a clean pair of jeans on to his wet body. His muscles ached, and his mind thundered with the accusations that Katie had thrown his way. She was right. Though he hadn't set out to use her, he hadn't been completely honest about his intentions.

“Damn.” He snapped his jeans closed and silently cursed himself to as many levels of hell as there were, then added a few more for good measure.

If only Ralph had held his patience in check; if only he'd let Luke talk to Katie himself, explain what he'd been doing, try to let her understand his position. “And what good would that have done?” he wondered aloud. Angry at the world in general and specifically at himself, he jerked a towel from the rack and wiped away the condensation that fogged the mirror.

His reflection glowered back at him through the tiny droplets, and he felt as if he were about to explode. He didn't bother combing his hair, just raked his fingers through the wet strands. Muttering under his breath about hardheaded women and the stupid men involved with them, he threw on a pair of old sneakers and a T-shirt that had seen better days, then buckled the worn leather strap of his watch.

He was outside and down the stairs before the door slammed shut behind him. Crossing the yard in swift, ground-eating strides that led him straight to the back door, he ignored the low rumble of a growl old Blue gave him.

Banging loudly with his fist, he waited until Katie's kid, eyeing him with unmasked suspicion, stood on the other side of the screen.

“Yeah?”

“Your mom here?” He knew better. The Jeep was still missing in action, but he thought he'd start at the beginning with Josh.

“Naw.”

A wealth of information, this kid. “Do you know when she'll be back?”

Josh's eyes narrowed a fraction. “Yeah.”

Luke's patience was wearing thin. “And when is that?”

“Later.” He gave a lift of one shoulder. “She said about an hour.”

Luke calculated that she'd already been gone twenty minutes or so. He was going to ask Josh where she'd gone even if it wasn't any of his business, but at that moment Tiffany's car pulled into the drive. She was out of the car in a second. Her son, Stephen, who'd been in the passenger seat, was right behind her.

“Is Katie here?” Tiffany asked, climbing the steps.

“At the other house.”

Bingo.

Josh opened the door for his aunt and cousin. “Someone's looking at it.”

“Good. I need to talk to her, so Stephen and I'll wait if that's okay.”

“Great. Where's Christina?”

“She wouldn't get up from her nap, so J.D. stayed with her.” Tiffany rolled her palms to the air and winked at her nephew, as if they shared some private joke. “So, I guess it's just you and Stephen.”

“Too bad,” Stephen said sarcastically. He didn't seem inclined to hide the fact that he was sick to his back teeth of a sister who was little more than a toddler. “She's a pain.”

“She is not. You're lucky to have her.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Stephen,” Tiffany warned, about to say more when her eyes met Luke's. “You'd think that with all the years that separate them, they'd get along.”

Josh grinned from ear to ear, eager, Luke supposed, to hang out with his older cousin. He opened the door, and Stephen bolted through, followed by his mother, who took over the duties of keeping the screen door from shutting by using her body as a wedge. The boys were already up the stairs. Tiffany smiled at Luke. “Why don't you come in and keep me company while I wait? I'm sure Katie won't mind. That way you can tell me what's happening with the ranch you're fixing up.”

“You know about that?”

“Katie happened to mention that you were going to open it up to the public and take in guests sometime next spring.”

“That's the plan,” Luke allowed as the boys, eating red licorice, ran through the kitchen again, grabbed a couple of skateboards that had been propped on the porch and took off toward the front of the house.

“Hey, wait. Where're you going?” Tiffany asked.

“Just to the store.” Josh was already around the corner.

“Be careful and come right back!” Tiffany yelled; then, when Stephen threw her a look that silently told her he wasn't a baby anymore, she turned back to Luke. “Moms are really just pains in the neck for teenage boys.”

“Is that right?” He wouldn't know, of course, since he hadn't been raised by his own mother, but there was no reason to confide in her. “He'll grow out of it.”

“I hope.” She sighed, and he saw a glimmer of the worry she'd carried with her as a single mother, a grieving widow. He decided it was a good thing that she'd linked up with J.D. She glanced around the kitchen. “It's starting to come together, isn't it?” Shaking her head, she admitted, “I never thought I'd move out of here. Never planned to remarry.” A tiny smile played at the corners of her mouth. “I guess that just goes to show you that you never know what's around the next corner.”

“Nope.”

“So—” she motioned to a chair “—just for the record, I think a working dude ranch is a great idea. Why don't you tell me all the details?”

“You sound like your sister.”

“I'm not a reporter, but I'm interested. Besides, it looks like we both have a little time to kill before Katie gets back.” She offered him a brilliant smile. “I feel kind of strange about sitting in
her
house waiting for her, but knowing Katie, she wouldn't want it any other way.”

She heated coffee on the stove as Luke explained his plans. He was hesitant at first, didn't know if he wanted his entire life exposed to a woman he barely knew, but Tiffany, like her dynamo of a half sister, was easy to talk to. The difference was that this woman was calm and chuckled softly as she cradled her cup in her hands. Katie, on the other hand, was a bundle of energy and would have dominated the conversation while doing a dozen other things.

Tiffany asked questions, made a few jokes and generally kept the conversation rolling as the minutes ticked by. The boys returned, the wheels of their skateboards grinding on the concrete. Hastily they constructed a jump out of some two-by-fours and plywood, and immediately took to their boards to practice, becoming airborne.

“I hope they don't break their necks,” Tiffany said, looking worried.

“They'll be fine.”

“But Josh is still recovering from spraining his ankle.” She started to yell something out the window, thought better of it and held her tongue. “Once a mother, always a mother.”

“I hear it's a hard habit to break.”

“The hardest.” They laughed and watched the boys through the window, and Luke checked his watch for the dozenth time. He was starting to feel antsy, though he had no reason. His talk with Katie could wait.

“So, I wonder what's keeping her?” Tiffany finally asked as Luke finished his second cup of coffee. He'd been in the house nearly an hour. “It's odd that she'd leave Josh alone so long.” She sighed and lifted a shoulder. “Maybe she had to go to the store.” She scraped back her chair, walked to the sink and placed her cup under the faucet. “If Katie doesn't show up soon, I'll have to leave her a note.”

“I could take a message,” Luke said automatically, but he was starting to get that same damned feeling of anxiety he'd had before when she lived in the other place and she'd been receiving the crank phone calls.
Don't overreact,
he told himself, but found it impossible whenever Katie was concerned. He couldn't do anything but wait.