Cowboy in the Kitchen (15 page)

Even so, being around Cooper made Hunt want a big dog of his own. But a big dog meant a big yard. Big yard meant big house. Big house meant big mortgage, and big mortgage naturally made Hunt consider Temple Territory and the commitment he’d shied away from all of his adult life.

If he were honest, it didn’t bother him nearly as much as it once had to think of this place as Gillian’s. Hunt wasn’t just whistling Dixie when he’d told Gillian her gestures to maintain the history of the property honored his family, and day by day he realized that was enough.

“We were able to reach the Realtor, and she agreed to meet us out there tomorrow,” James continued. “She said this is traditionally a slow time for lake rentals, and we can probably lock into a year’s lease at a good rate.”

“Tomorrow, huh?” Hunt questioned.

“Why? What’s going on?” Meredith’s mama-radar shot up. She glanced around. “Where’s Gillian?”

“She’s going to be fine.” He held both palms out to assure Gillian’s parents. “She fell today when we were out shopping and banged up her knee pretty badly. We made a trip to the E.R., and she’ll be on crutches for a few weeks, but the orthopedic doesn’t believe she’ll even require physical therapy.”

“Is she upstairs?” Meredith headed for the staircase with Cooper close behind.

“Yes, ma’am. She’s probably asleep by now, but if not, she may be kinda goofy from the pain meds, so don’t be alarmed.”

“Poor Gillian,” James breathed. “This is the last thing my daughter should have to deal with right now.”

“Sir, that’s exactly what Gillian said, but I reassured her that, between the three of us and the staff, we’d get everything done.”

“Under her close scrutiny, of course,” her father added with a smile.

“Of course. She says she was mentored by the master of control.”

“That would be her mother, all right.”

“Sir, you do realize, when your daughter speaks of her mentor, she’s talking about you, right?”

James opened his mouth and sucked in a breath as if preparing to argue. But he remained silent, mulling over what Hunt said. Could this be his first realization that he’d molded Gillian into a control freak? Or was it the thought of being his daughter’s mentor that stole his words? Father and daughter were so very much alike. Between the two of them, Moore House couldn’t help but be a success.

“Hunt, would you mind excusing us for the evening? I’m going to go up and check on Gillian, and then I’ll take care of dinner for my girls.”

“Of course, you should have some family time. Are you sure I can’t prepare a meal for you?” He’d already laid out the
mise en place
for chicken piccata.

James shook his head. “You’ve done enough for one day, and we can’t thank you enough for getting her to the E.R. I’ll make us some grilled cheese sandwiches and open a can of tomato soup. That’s the only thing Gillian would eat as a child when she was sick.”

“I’ve always associated grilled cheese and tomato soup with chicken pox, and now you’ve reminded me why that is.”

The two men chuckled. “Thanks for taking care of Gillian today.”

James gave Hunt a warm pat on the shoulder and steered him toward the door, as if he were a teenage date being dismissed for the evening. It was an odd-man-out sensation that shot sadness through Hunt’s heart. He wanted to stick around and be a part of their family. He could come clean about his feelings and ask to stay. But that would open a can of worms with James that Gillian might not appreciate.

Nope, best to go on over to Cullen’s house and help decorate the miserable little Charlie Brown tree that Cullen had cut down for himself. In a few hours Hunt would call Gillian to check up on her, maybe even head over if she was up to company.

“Drive careful,” James urged. “The temperatures are dropping, and there could be icy patches on the roads.”

“Fortunately I don’t have far to go,” Hunt replied as he stepped into the freezing night air. “Call if you need anything at all. I’m only five minutes away.”

But even the short drive to Cullen’s house seemed like a long road as it took him in the opposite direction from the woman he loved.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“W
HAT
DAY
IS
IT
?”
Gillian rubbed her temples, feeling like Wile E. Coyote after The Road Runner had dropped an anvil on his head.

“Wednesday,” her mother broke the news.

“Are you serious? I’ve been in this bed three days?”

“For the better part of them, you sure have.”

“Why did you let me keep taking those pills?”

“Honey, after the way you cried Sunday morning when the medication had worn off, and you couldn’t even hobble to the bathroom, the orthopedist recommended we double your medication until the swelling subsided. Last night your knee seemed much better, so I took the dosage down again. Would you like to sit up and have some coffee and toast?”

“What I’d like is to get into the shower and lose this three-day-old bed head.”

Her mother didn’t attempt to hide a smile. “I’m sorry to laugh at your expense, but your hair has looked better.”

“Please tell me Hunt didn’t catch me this way.”

“No, of course not. He hasn’t been here since Saturday night.”

Gillian’s heart crumbled like dried flowers. If he hadn’t bothered to check on her, how important could she really be in his life? Or maybe he was finally taking her words of rejection seriously.

“Has he even called?”

“You’ve spoken with him a half-dozen times.” Her mother smiled. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember. But he completely understood your stupor since he knows how hard you whacked that knee. I told him I’d inform him when you were in shape to receive visitors.”

Gillian’s mother helped her to the shower where she sat in a plastic chair underneath the warm spray of water.

“Sitting in a steam bath with a cold gel pack strapped to my knee makes me feel like an oxymoron in the flesh. Thanks for not letting Hunt visit me in this condition.”

“All the thanks should go to your father. His quick thinking is the real reason we kept Hunt away from Moore House for a few days.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Karl Gates called Monday morning saying he’d received the permit to start work on the courtyard, and your dad instructed him to take care of the demolition that same day.”

“So the well is gone?” She held her breath, suddenly fearing the response.

Her mother nodded. “It’s been filled in and covered over as if it was never there. The odor is gone, too, so that space isn’t offensive anymore. Once a tile floor is laid, there won’t be a trace of the well left.”

Even in the steamy shower Gillian felt a chill. The deed was done. Evil spirits hadn’t split the earth open or brought the roof down on their heads. Gillian shut off the water and eased to a standing position. Her mother wrapped her in a fluffy robe, helped her to a vanity bench and began to towel-dry her hair.

“What about the stones?”

“Karl’s men were able to chip away the mortar and save the rocks that were aboveground. They’re in the barn. Dad figured you might want to recycle them someplace else on the property.”

“That’s a smart idea. I appreciate that Dad gave the go-ahead for me, and I’m glad I slept through it so I wouldn’t have regrets.”

Meredith took the towel away from Gillian’s face so she could look into her eyes. “Did he make the right decision? You and I talked about it on several occasions, and you seemed certain. Karl said he got the same orders from you, or James would never have agreed.”

Gillian hated the worry in her mother’s voice. She caught both of her hands and squeezed them tightly.

“Mom, I absolutely believe it was the right thing to do. But Karl insisted Hunt would be upset when he found out.”

“He’s already discovered it. It was probably best your dad handled that, too.”

Gillian dropped her face into her hands. How much worse could this situation get?

“Tell me everything,” she mumbled.

“The two workmen who did the job on Monday filled in their wives about it, and by Tuesday morning it was Facebook fodder.”

“So
everybody
in town has heard about it already?”

“Basically, but let’s think this through. The property has been empty for decades, so it’s not as if there were guided tours pointing out the Caddo well. It was mostly legend, and once people get the word out that it’s gone, that’ll be the end of it.”

“Have you spoken with Hunt?”

“No, but your father has. He tried to mitigate the problem by taking responsibility for razing the well.”

“Dad shouldn’t have done that, but I appreciate his intentions. This was my decision, and I’ll own the outcome with Hunt. Has there been any sort of local media coverage?”

Her mother patted Gillian’s back, the only comfort a parent can offer in some situations.

“Not so far. It wasn’t exactly a newsworthy event. The city granted the permit, so it’s a nonissue for the media. Even so, you have a Caddo sit-in at the gate, and they might be there for a while.”

Gillian closed her eyes and let her chin drop to her chest. “Oh, Mom, what sort of chain reaction have I set in motion? When Rachel hears about this she might cancel the booking.”

“There’s no reason to panic.” Meredith’s voice was soft and reassuring as she sat beside her daughter on the bench. “Rachel and Buzz have been the subject of gossip and paparazzi all their lives. A few protesters won’t make them change their wedding plans, not when they’ve waited all these years to make it official.”

“You’re probably right, but I have to do some damage control with them.
And
with Hunt, if he’ll listen to me.”

“Why don’t you give Rachel a call and explain what’s happened? Remind her that you couldn’t take her out into the courtyard, because it smelled like a skunk crawled in a hole and died, which is probably true. She’s a businesswoman. She’ll understand.”

“Rachel! I was supposed to talk to her about the menu two days ago!”

“Hunt spoke to her and took care of everything.”

He’d offered to take care of a lot of stuff for her before she’d destroyed that infernal well. Now she’d be lucky if he hadn’t sabotaged everything instead.

“Since I’m lucid again, I’ve got to get into the game myself.”

What should she do? The choices were limited. She could get in the bed and put her head under the covers, she could ignore the local fallout and hope for the best, or she could deal with the situation head-on like the hotelier she claimed she wanted to be.

How would her father react in her situation? It was easy enough to ask him, but she knew instinctively by now. He’d make a call immediately, explain away the issue and offer the guest some unexpected perk to thank them for their continued loyalty.

“I know what I need to do, Mom.”

“How can I help?”

“You can get me over to the chaise, find my cell phone and then make me a grilled cheese sandwich.”

“With tomato soup?”

“No, thanks. I’m not sick,” Gillian insisted.

Unless worried sick counted.

* * *

“W
HY
DON
’
T
YOU
just tell Gillian you love her?” Cullen badgered Hunt.

“It’s not that simple. Saying the words out loud won’t make our differences go away, and it’ll complicate things even more.”

“You don’t know that for sure. Putting your feelings on the table—no pun intended—may be just what you should do to start moving forward again. Right now you’re hung in limbo, waiting for life to happen to you instead of taking the initiative like you’ve always done.”

“You’re one to talk,” Hunt scoffed. “You’ve been a college student for fifteen years. When are you gonna get on with
your
life?”

“Here’s the difference, little bro. I’m happy. You’re not.”

Hunt shoved his palms in the hip pockets of his Wranglers and paced the length of Cullen’s study. The fact that the room was filled with volumes of wisdom only served to make him feel more stupid for losing control of his future.

“You’re right. I’m not happy, and it all started when Gillian showed up and bought Pap’s place.”

“That doesn’t make Gilly the bad guy or the source of your misery. She’s been more agreeable to our wishes than we ever expected she would at the beginning. Look how often she’s listened to reason from you.”

“Tell that to the Caddos camped at the entrance to Temple Territory. They’re outraged over what’s happened.”

“Oh, Hunt. That’s just a bunch of old country boys who call themselves The Tribe. They tailgate every Sunday during football season and take their families camping on South Padre for spring break. Those fellas will use any excuse to sit around a campfire together, including a protest.”

“What about the Caddo well? It was important enough for Pap to build his estate around, and now it’s full of concrete.”

“Take a seat, will ya, Hunt? You’re wearing out the rug that Alma put down there to cover the spot where
I
wore out the carpet underneath it.”

Hunt flopped into the leather chair beside the massive desk strewn with his brother’s research stuff. Hunt’s righteous indignation was waning beneath the sense of Cullen’s arguments.

“You might have noticed that I care a lot about history,” Cullen began to explain.

Hunt snorted laughter at the understatement.

“Okay, I’m on the obsessive side when it comes to studying the past. But that should tell you something. If I’m not bothered by the destruction of that smelly pile of rocks, then you probably shouldn’t be, either. There was never any evidence that would support making it a landmark, or the East Texas Historical Society would have slapped a placard on it a hundred years ago.”

“Then why was it so important to Pap?”

“That’s another mystery about the old man that we may never understand. When a culture wants something significant to be remembered, they find a way to leave a legacy. I can’t say what caused Pap to preserve that old well, but if it wasn’t important enough to leave the story behind, then it sure isn’t important enough to steal your happiness.”

“But there was something special, something sacred about the ground around the well.”

“Only because you made it so by taking comfort there, Hunt. I did the same thing with Daddy’s study. When you took your bedroll to sleep beside the well, I took mine to sleep beside his bookshelf. We were kids, and we found peace the only way we knew how. But we’re grown men now, and neither one of us has to cling to a patch of earth anymore to remind us of Daddy and Mama.”

“You make a solid case,” Hunt muttered.

“What was that again?” Cullen goaded him to speak up.

“You’re right, okay!” Hunt gave in to his brother’s logic.

“Of course I’m right. Now go take care of that other business before you get sidetracked again. How long do you figure it’ll take?”

“Only a couple of days, but with it being the holidays, I may have to attend a few family gatherings to get the job done. I’ll be asking for a lot, and I can’t just make a call or show up for fifteen minutes and expect people to accommodate me.”

“You go do whatever you have to do. We’ll still be here when you get home. Since you won’t be around to cook dinner on Christmas Day, you can make it up to us with
two
turkeys next year.” Cullen rubbed his palms in anticipation. “One roasted and one deep-fried.”

* * *

G
ILLIAN
WAS
HOLDING
her cell, rehearsing what she planned to say when Rachel returned her call. The phone buzzed, Hunt’s number popped up on the caller ID and then his voice came through the speaker.

“I took a chance you might truly be awake this time.”

If it hadn’t been for the knee brace keeping her leg locked in place, she might have jumped to her feet with a case of nerves. Gillian’s heart lurched at the baritone she’d grown to love, but she didn’t hear the anger she expected.

“You’re right. I am finally out of the drug-induced fog. And I apologize for the way I must have sounded during the past few calls. I can’t remember a thing.”

“I assure you that, even under the influence, you were always a lady.”

“Now you’re on to the fact that I’m a cheap date. I can’t drink more than two glasses of wine, and pain medication renders me useless. I should have cut the prescription in half from the very first dose.”

“Don’t let it worry you. You obviously needed it for the pain. How’s the knee?”

“The swelling is going down, but after trying to take a few steps this morning, I understand the reason for the brace and crutches. I can’t take any weight on this leg at all.”

“That shouldn’t come as a shock. You may be a skinny little thing, but your knee took the full force of your body weight on a surface made of stone. In that situation, the stone is usually the winner, because it’s hard, meant to last forever and stay right where it is. Unless, of course, somebody decides to bring in a bulldozer, and then the stone won’t have much chance.”

“Okay, Hunt, enough with the wordplay. Go ahead and say what you have to say, and get it over with.”

A sharp rap on her suite door that could only belong to her father interrupted Gillian’s intention to get this confrontation over with.

“You seem to have company,” Hunt commented.

“Just hold on a minute, please.” She muted the cell phone and called out, “Dad, it’s okay to come in. I’m decent.”

The antique door hinges squeaked. A face with eyes the color of slate appeared from behind the solid core door.

She yanked her quilt even higher over modest flannel pajamas. “Why didn’t you say you were out there?”

“I figured it would be best to share the news after the fact. You know how that is, don’t you, Gilly?”