Courting Trouble (27 page)

“Why are you here?” Savannah asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I wanted to talk about Ash,” Bobby said.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Tulsa broke in, but Savannah held up her hand to halt Tulsa.

“I think you’ve made yourself pretty clear where Ash is concerned,” Savannah said and rolled her shoulders back. “You want to take her away from me.”

“Savannah… I… Can’t we please, just for a minute, talk about it?” Bobby asked.

Savannah shook her head and reached for her coat. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“I don’t want Ash to testify in court,” Bobby spit the words out quickly. “I… I don’t think it would be good for her.”

Savannah returned her jacket to its hook. Her mouth was set in a tight line. “I agree with you,” Savannah said. “Fine, we can talk.”

Bobby followed Savannah into the formal living room. Just out of sight, Tulsa slowly crouched and sat on the bottom step of the staircase. Yes, she was eavesdropping and yes, it might be wrong, but she didn’t care. She wanted to hear every word that Bobby said to Savannah. Every explanation, if there was any, every plea, every argument—

“Tulsa?” She stiffened at the sound of her sister’s voice.

Tulsa stood and peeked her nose around the corner into the formal living room. Bobby and Savannah sat in chairs on opposite ends of an antique marble tea table. An odd-looking couple. Bobby in a pair of Wranglers and worrying his hat in his hands and Savannah in her flowing skirt and long scarf. They had known each other’s younger selves intimately but after fifteen years of life they appeared to be strangers to one another.

“Why don’t you go ahead to the carnival,” Savannah said. “I’ll meet you there.”

Tulsa pursed her lips and walked toward the door. The attraction she really wanted to see was right here at home.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Tulsa meandered beneath the white lights strung from pine tree to pine tree in the town square. A wistful yearning like a thin rivulet of water trickled through her body. The scent of snow in the air kept company with cinnamon and apple, thanks to Rose’s fresh-baked pastries. Flames licked the wood in the bonfires. Couples held hands and kept warm beside the jumping flames. Wayne sold hot apple cider beside Dr. Bob at the football booster booth. Judge Wilder collected tickets at the Hot Shot tent where for a buck you could try your hand with an air rifle and a target in an attempt to win a stuffed animal.

People nodded and waved to Tulsa as she meandered around the town square. Melancholy squeezed her heart and yet even with the melancholy from the past mixed with the uncertainty of her family’s future, a deep warming joy, a sense of calm—of belonging, grounded her to this very moment, to this very place. Her eyes drifted over the crowd—children and parents and grandparents all linked to this town with a deep abiding love, not only for each other but also for their home. Her gaze drifted, collecting the sights like bits of bright sea glass until it landed on a pair of eyes watching her.

The breath whooshed from her lungs and a jolt raced through her body. He was five feet away but when their eyes locked it was as if a circuit was complete and a sharp blue bolt of electricity arced between them. Her chest squeezed. She couldn’t move—even though she should turn away, she should walk away, she maybe should run away as she had years before—instead, her feet were firmly planted on the courthouse lawn. His eyes never left hers as he walked toward her. Well-worn Levi’s molded to his thighs. He wore a deep mocha leather jacket over a black shirt. He stopped six inches from her.

“Evening, Tulsa.”

Her eyelashes fluttered. She glanced down toward her feet and then back up to meet his gaze. She couldn’t help herself. So overcome by his presence and this place—every memory of every fall carnival collided inside her mind. Every want. Every need. Every unsaid thing. And more too—maybe it was the soon-to-be end of her trip. Maybe it was the guilt of all that she was stirring up. Maybe it was simply the damned excitement she felt with this charge running so hot and fierce between them. In this instant—this moment—for whatever reason, all the obstacles that stood between them melted away and she was any woman wildly attracted to a man.

“Cade,” she said and looked up through her eyelashes.

He leaned forward and whispered into her ear, “You are the most beautiful woman here.”

Warmth, thick and hot, pooled within her. Heat drifted outward and saturated her limbs. A tingling sensation all through her spine. A slow smile crawled across Cade’s face as if he knew the sensations he caused to course through her body. He reached his hand around and rested it on the small of her back.

“Maybe you’d let me get you an apple cider?”

Tulsa nodded and a sweet soft smile drifted over her face. There wasn’t much for them to say—why not just acknowledge the attraction and enjoy the evening?

“I’d like that.”

A soft sort of magic, built upon shared memories, filled the air around them. Perhaps it was the knowledge that she couldn’t ever be with Cade and a resignation to the permanence of their attraction and the impermanence of their time together. They wandered toward Rose and Earl and the sweet cinnamon rolls. Tulsa surrendered to the gentle, reassuring pressure of Cade’s hand on her back.

Cade ordered for them and they drifted to a wooden bench with wrought-iron arms. Here they had a view of the carnival. Tulsa’s eyes drifted toward a pack of high schoolers where Ash stood beside Dylan, their fingers loosely entwined. Her smile was easy and she laughed at a joke. She seemed so effortlessly happy—so content in her life. How could Ash want to leave this place and these people for so much that was unknown?

Tulsa understood the need to leave. At eighteen she would have said she felt compelled by the events in her life to move to Los Angeles. And maybe Ash felt compelled as well by the need to know her father and distance herself from her mother and this life—to create her own identity. Maybe this need was embedded within a strain of the McGrath DNA. Connie had come and gone from Powder Springs every few months—unable to settle down with a forever in this town—and that same blood that ran through Connie pumped in Tulsa’s veins and in Ash.

“Did Bobby come by the house?” Cade asked after taking a sip of hot coffee.

“How’d you know?” Tulsa bit into the warm, sticky goodness that was Rose’s fresh cinnamon roll.

“I suggested it.” Cade leaned into the wooden back of the bench and stretched his arm out and behind Tulsa’s shoulder.

“Little risky of you. Especially when you’re looking for a restraining order since Savannah is so dangerous.” Tulsa twisted her lips and tilted her head to the side.

“I think all that is going to be moot after they talk.”

Cade’s eyes held the hint of a smile. A smile because he held a secret that he hadn’t shared. Tulsa bit her bottom lip. She wanted to know what tidbit of information he held so closely, but there were a multitude of reasons that Cade not only wouldn’t but couldn’t tell her about his conversation with Bobby—not the least of which was the fact that Bobby was his client.

“That feels patently unfair,” Tulsa said and licked a hint of icing off her finger. Cade’s eyes lingered as her tongue rolled over the tip of her finger and a heat settled in the V between her legs with his gaze. His eyelids were heavy and the muscle in his jaw twitched as she pulled her finger from between her lips.

“Why did you send Bobby to the house?”

Cade looked up from her lips and leaned forward. “While I know it was borderline as far as professional ethics, my client and his daughter had a conversation today that I believe only he should share with your sister.”

Tulsa’s heartbeat kicked upward because a hope that maybe Bobby and Ash had decided that Powder Springs was the best home for Ash and because Cade was so close if she leaned forward a mere two inches her lips—lips that desperately wanted to kiss Cade—would get exactly what they desired. Cade reached out his hand and his fingers touched the edge of Tulsa’s chin. His blue eyes locked with hers.

“I think everyone will be pleased with their decision.”

Warmth coursed through her—warmth that quickly ignited into a hot flame—a flame that burned to her core. Cade’s fingertips stroked her chin and a tremor raced through her. Her gaze narrowed and all that was around them—the lights, the people, the scents, the carnival—dropped away and fell from her vision and at that moment all she saw was Cade. Clear and before her were his strong features and kind eyes and she wondered why they couldn’t be together, why it seemed as though every block, every barricade that could be imagined was placed in their way and quite simply why, if they cared for each other enough, they couldn’t find their way around the challenges they faced.

“Thank you.”

The familiar voice jerked Tulsa back to this reality. She stiffened and pulled from Cade’s touch. Savannah stood beside them. Her fingers clasped her purse. Her shoulders were a bit slumped forward and her jaw soft—her eyes a bit reddened.

She opened her mouth to speak, but her chin trembled and she paused, big tears forming in her eyes. Savannah rolled her eyes upward and gazed at the stars high above their heads. She took a deep breath, a cleansing breath, before she settled her shoulders and looked back at Cade and Tulsa.

“Bobby and I decided that Ash should stay here to finish high school.” Her voice was soft and her lips, while they quivered, they still turned up into a smile. “He’ll come to visit and she’ll go to see him—we’ll work it out, but she will finish high school here, in Powder Springs.”

Tulsa’s faced cracked into a smile.

“Sounds like she’s got a couple of smart parents,” Cade said.

“Does Ash know?” Tulsa asked. Her eyes drifted from Savannah toward Ash, who still stood with her friends on the far side of the town square.

“Bobby spoke to Ash about it and it’s all good. Seems she was having some doubts about leaving her friends…” Savannah’s words broke off and her chest started to bounce in the rhythm of soft, gentle sobs. “And leaving me.”

Tulsa stood and wrapped her sister in a gentle hug.

“I’m just… I’m so happy,” Savannah whispered. “I almost lost her, she… she… wanted to leave me, and now…” Her words fell into her silent crying.

“She didn’t want to leave you.” Tulsa leaned back so she could look her sister in the eyes. “She just wants to grow up. It’s a push-pull. You know that.”

They both turned their gaze toward Ash, who now looked over her shoulder toward her aunt and her mother. A tiny hint of a smile as she waved at both. She pointed toward Dylan and then made a steering motion with her hands.

Savannah took a deep breath. “Why is this so hard?” she whispered.

“Because you love her.”

Savannah looked out of the corner of her eyes at Tulsa. “I need to say yes, don’t I? She wants Dylan to bring her home, and I need to say yes.”

“You’re her mom; you need to do what you know is right. What you know she can handle.”

Savannah looked toward Ash, who was still waiting for her mother’s response to her request. Savannah nodded, then held up ten fingers to let Ash know what time she needed to be home. Ash rolled her eyes, shook her head, flashed ten fingers and then two more. Savannah flashed back ten and one more. Ash shrugged and nodded. Negotiations closed, Savannah turned toward Tulsa.

“This is going to be the toughest four years of my life,” Savannah said. “But I am so grateful I get to have them.” Her gaze drifted from Ash to Cade, who still sat on the bench, a silent observer to the McGrath family drama. “Thank you,” Savannah said again, her voice softer, her tone humble. “Bobby told me what you said to him about continuity and stability and family—it meant a lot to him and to Ash.” Savannah paused. “And to me.”

“The best place for Ash right now is here with you—with what she knows. She’s got her whole life to explore the world and spend time with her dad, but right now? Well, it’s a good thing for a high-school kid to have stability and continuity and family.”

“Yeah,” Savannah said. “It is.” She pulled in a tender breath of air and released it. Tension drained from her face and her body. A smile emerged on her lips. “I’ve got to go do my shift at the volleyball booster booth.” She turned and hugged Tulsa. “See you at home,” Savannah whispered and then she glanced toward Cade. “Maybe. It seems to me, with that wolfish expression on his face, that Mr. Montgomery may have other plans for you this evening.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Cade stopped his truck under the stand of pine trees beside the tiny hunting lodge and killed the lights. The darkness, deep and black, spread across the sky decorated with millions of pinpricks of light. Even while her heart thumped against her ribs, a stillness from knowing she was exactly where she wanted to be flooded Tulsa’s body and mind. She turned her head slightly to the right and gazed at the handcrafted building with its roughhewn wood, tin roof, and wood-slat porch. A flat stone path led from the gravel drive where they were parked to the lodge. A beaten and weathered welcome sign hung from the door.

“You remember this place?”

“How could I forget it?”

Memory after memory ricocheted through her mind and heat filled her. This was the spot where she and Cade had planned their future. Curled up in front of a fire with a bottle of Boone’s Farm wine between them, they planned where they would go to college, how they would practice law together, when they would get married, how many children they would have. All of it—each plan, each idea, each dream they had for a shared life—was now, years later, merely a memory. And all those dreams would, it seemed, forever remain only memories. Even with Ash’s custody case resolved there was no easy solution to the breach that had shattered their relationship when they were eighteen.

This was also the spot where their teenaged bodies had tangled into one molten mass and with practice eventually found pleasure.

The screen door creaked as Cade pushed the door open for Tulsa to enter. The room smelled of past fires and cigars and the musky but not unpleasant odor of men. This had always been a place that Hudd and then Wayne and Cade inhabited. Once upon a time she may have been the only woman to enter this male-centric clubhouse. A worn rug was just past the threshold on an unstained wooden floor. The inside was utilitarian. A tiny kitchen equipped with a table big enough for poker games and meals, a stove, a refrigerator, and one bedroom.