Cowboy Under the Mistletoe (13 page)

“I wasn’t up to it today.”

“Jake?”

“I don’t want to fight with them—or you—about him.”

“Not why I’m here.” Her brother ripped open the Fritos and offered her the bag. “This morning at the site, I saw something in Hamilton that got me thinking.”

She took out a handful of chips but didn’t eat; the salty corn smell lifted to her nose “Why do things have to be this way, Dawson? Why can’t the family forgive and move on?”

“That’s what I was thinking about. Prayed about it a little, too. We seem to be stuck back there nine years ago.” He dipped his chip and crunched, chewing while he gazed at the television in a distracted manner. “Remember how things were before the shooting? Quinn’s football picture was on posters in all the store windows. His name was in every Saturday morning coffee shop conversation.”

Allison smiled, nostalgic. “I can almost hear Red Chambers reliving the play-by-play down at Darla’s Doughnuts.
‘Quinn back to pass. He scrambles, dodges a tackler. Then two. No one’s open. But like a surgeon he slices through the defense and finds a receiver in double coverage. Twenty-five yard pass. No one could make more out of nothing than Quinn Buchanon.’
”

“He was grand marshal in every parade. Doted on by everyone in town. Recruiters, too. The rest of us should have been jealous, but I was so proud to call him brother. I idolized him.”

“We all did, Dawson. The whole town did.”

“He was going to put Gabriel’s Crossing on the map. Heck, he was already doing it. News media followed him around like a rock star.
Sports Illustrated
did an article, comparing him to greats like Joe Montana.” Dawson sighed, the chip in his hand forgotten. “Then the shooting happened and everything changed. We changed. Quinn changed. The town grieved, too.”

“And someone had to take the blame.”

“Yeah. We needed a scapegoat to focus our anger on. Human nature is an interesting thing.” He grinned a little. “Psych 101 keeps coming back to haunt me.”

Allison picked at the Fritos, remembering those terrible, painful days. “Human nature or whatever, Jake hurt, too. But no one cared about one stray kid who wasn’t that great at football.”

“No one but you.” He popped the chip in his mouth, his blue, blue eyes on her.

“He needed someone.” And she needed him. He knew her secret but never judged her, never spoke of it. Instead, he made her feel safe again.

Not that she could share any of that with Dawson.

She dipped into Dad’s cheesy concoction and watched it drip into the container.

“You had a crush on him.”

She hiked a shoulder, conceding the truth. No point in arguing. “I was trying to do the right thing.”

“You infuriated the family. Even Mom and Dad were upset about the amount of time you spent with Jake.”

“I didn’t think they knew.” Just as they hadn’t known how badly she’d needed his friendship.”

“They knew. We all did. Gabriel’s Crossing is a small town and anything a Buchanon does is news.”

Not everything.

“Or fodder for the grapevine.” She reached for the remote and muted the television. The Cowboys, like her, were struggling.

“You have to remember, sis, it was a terrible year. Everyone was hurting, especially Quinn. Surgeries, rehab and the painful knowledge that he would never throw another touchdown pass. He had some bad juju going on. Still does.”

“Are you saying Mom and Dad had their hands full without me consorting with the enemy?”

“I guess you could put it that way.”

“Is that why you boys threatened him?”

Dawson tilted back into the nubby couch cushions. “Did he tell you that? Because it’s a lie.”

“No, he’s said nothing negative about any of you. Jake isn’t mad. He’s full of regret.”

Dawson pondered her words over a few more dipped Fritos that had him clutching his throat. “I gotta have something to drink. Dad went heavy on the jalapeños today.”

“There’s pop in the fridge. I’ll get you one.” She jumped up, returning with a cold can of Coke.

Dawson popped the tab and took a long pull. He swallowed and emitted a long sigh. “Ah, better. Man, that stuff’s hot.”

“You’re a good brother, Dawson.”

“I’m not taking sides.”

No, he wouldn’t. Buchanons didn’t take sides with anyone but a Buchanon. No one but traitor Allison. “Do you think things will ever change?”

“Hard to say. Maybe. Maybe not.” He set the can on the coffee table with a soft clunk.

“I love him, Dawson.”

Her brother drew in a deep breath, puffed out his cheeks, and exhaled slowly. “Not the best news I’ve ever had, but I figured as much. You don’t exactly hide your feelings well. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. Nothing, I suppose. Jake thinks the situation is hopeless. I guess he’s right.” Hurting at the thought, she rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. “He’ll be leaving as soon as his grandma and Manny Morales are well enough. Even if he didn’t have rodeos to attend, why would he want to stay here?”

No matter how much she yearned to be the reason, she wasn’t enough to hold him in the place that had hurt him so badly.

Dawson was silent, his elbows on his knees and hands clasped under his chin, he turned his eyes on the football game. He was, no doubt, thinking, worrying, brooding over the bombshell she’d exploded.

She clicked the mute button and sound returned bringing the roar of a Dallas crowd at a field goal. Three points wasn’t much, but “Da Boys” were making progress.

She observed her brother, the quiet one with the tender heart and the beautiful face. All her brothers were beautiful in a rugged manly way, but Dawson and Sawyer happened to be movie star quality. Not that either of them knew it. They thought of themselves as ordinary guys, Buchanons, and loyal as sunshine. She loved them so much. All of them, no matter their faults.

“Want a sandwich?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“I’m good.” He patted his belly. “Too much cheese dip.”

Outside car doors slammed. The siblings exchanged glances.

“Expecting anyone?”

“No.” She went to the window and peeked out. “Oh, my goodness.”

“Who is it?” Dawson rose and came to join her, standing a foot taller. As she opened the door and pointed, he laughed.

A gaggle of Buchanons piled out of trucks and trailed toward her small duplex like worker ants. Dawg leaped from the back of Brady’s truck and ambled toward her with his usual tongue-lolling happy face and windshield-wiper tail.

“What are you all doing?” she asked.

Her mother stopped in the doorway for a hug. “We missed you.”

Except for Brady, the rest of the family flowed into her tiny space and collapsed in front of her small TV. The biggest brother picked her up, his favorite way to annoy her, and with a wicked grin said, “You jinxed the ball game.”

She giggled. Playful superstitions were as much a part of the Buchanon tradition as Sunday football games. The twins always wore their favorite jerseys. Brady wore his cap. Quinn ate exactly three pancakes before a big game and then there were the barbecued weenies and dips. It was the Buchanon way. “You’re blaming me because the Cowboys are losing?”

He winced. “Don’t say losing. Now that we’re all together, there’s still time to rectify this gross injustice to our favorite team.”

“The Cowboy franchise will be forever thankful to know we Buchanons hold the key to their team’s win-loss record.”

“Got that right.” Brady set her on her feet with a pat on the head. “Buchanons stick together. It makes things simpler.”

She got the message. They were here. They forgave her. But Jake was still the odd man out.

Some of the pleasure in their appearance seeped out as Brady turned and picked his way over the bodies strewn about in her living room.

“Touchdown, Dallas!” Sawyer shot up from the floor in a victory dance and stepped on Jayla’s leg. Jayla yelped. Dawg howled. And the rest of the family laughed.

“Did you see that?” Brady pumped his arm. “Did you see that interception? Linebacker, baby.”

Allison stood in the doorway, watching the wild, crazy, wonderful Buchanons with a sad smile. Faults and all, this was family. She loved them desperately, but as she listened to their conversation and watched their antics, she made a painful decision.

They were never going to back down, never going to change. The only person who could change was her.

Family mattered, but love was everything.

Chapter Twelve

J
ake had meant to stay away but somehow his truck ended up outside Allison’s apartment Sunday evening after a busy afternoon at Manny’s. His friend was mending, stir-crazy and eager to be at work.

Through eyes gritty with the need for sleep, Jake saw the amber glow of light inside the duplex. He also saw the Camaro in the driveway next to a Buchanon truck. He shouldn’t knock. He should go back home and forget this powerful need to be with her.

He parked at the curb and sat in the truck like a crazed stalker. Head tilted back, he talked to Jesus, who seemed to reside somewhere above the gray headliner. He’d never intended to love Allison Buchanon, never wanted to, but he finally had to recognize the secret he’d been hiding in his soul for too long. She was the reason he’d never married, the reason he’d tried and failed at the engagement in Wyoming. Like Allison, he’d given his heart away a long time ago. But he hadn’t been as wise as little Allison. He hadn’t known.

A soft melody of love came through the CD player, country music, the tunes of lonely cowboys everywhere.

He should go. He’d call her later.

His cell phone buzzed in his pocket. One look and he laughed. From Allison.

What are you doing out there? Casing the joint? You’re not stealing my plastic Cowboys mug. I know you covet it.

He texted back,
Spoilsport. I really wanted that cup. Heading home now. Good night.

Before he could return the cell to his pocket and start the truck, her front door opened and there she was. Hair dancing, she charged across the lawn and yanked open the driver’s side door.

“Going somewhere?”

“Didn’t you get my text?”

“I got it. Didn’t like it. Come on in. I made soup and need someone with a healthy appetite.”

He hitched his chin toward the other vehicle. “You have company.”

“Dawson’s alternator went out. Brady took him home.”

“You’re alone?”

“Not if you’re here.” She tugged his sleeve. “Come on, you didn’t drive across town to park on my curb and send text messages.”

He grinned and got out. “Sounds silly when you put it that way.”

“I’m glad you stopped by.”

He didn’t know if he was or not. “Did your family give you any grief?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“All’s forgiven. I’m okay, Jake, but thanks for caring.”

That was the crux of the matter.

“Sorry I made you mad.”

She shrugged. “You were trying to protect me. Like always. But these days I can take care of myself.”

Jake wasn’t so sure about that.

He pushed open the front door, and the bell on the cheery red-and-green wreath tinkled.

Inside, the scent of spicy Tex-Mex seasoning filled his nose. His belly growled. “That smells great.”

“I won’t tell you how long I didn’t slave over that.”

“Huh?”

She grinned up at him, cute as ever, and his whole being was happy.

“Did you catch up on your sleep this afternoon?”

“No. Went out to Manny’s.”

“How is he?”

“Annoyed, but I think he likes having Paulina fuss over him all day.”

“You’re sweet to take care of his chores.”

Sweet?

“No big deal. Manny’s done a lot for me. Why was Dawson here? Problems?”

She shook her head. “The family came over to watch football.”

“Nice.” He followed her into the kitchen where the soup bubbled on the stove top.

“When the Cowboys lost, they all crawled out whimpering like kicked pups. Even Dawg. They wouldn’t even stick around for my taco soup.” She took two red ceramic bowls out of an overhead cupboard and clumped them on the counter.

“Buchanons do love their football.”

“Ain’t it the truth? And guess what? The twins have tickets for next week’s game.”

“In Dallas?”

“Cowboys Stadium.” She knew the venue name had changed but to loyal fans, whereever Da Boys played would forever be Cowboy Stadium. “Nosebleed section. It’ll be awesome.”

“Are you jealous?”

“Green as an avocado.” But her eyes twinkled with humor. “They promised to bring me a foam finger.”

Jake smiled at the mental image of Allison wildly waving a blue foam finger. “Everyone’s favorite.”

He wanted to take her to a game. He wanted to listen to her cheerleader voice yell at the refs while he bought her overpriced hot dogs and laughed at her enthusiasm. They’d have a great time. He knew as well as he knew she’d have to fight her family to make it happen. No point in putting her in a worse situation.

So instead of offering the invitation, he took the bowl of steaming soup to the round glass table in the corner of her tiny kitchen.

“How did all the Buchanons fit inside this place?”

“Wall-to-wall bodies. The house was rocking. Brady threatened to knock out a wall but was vetoed in favor of the game.”

He remembered those times of crazy chaos with the Buchanons. Remembered and missed them. “Why were they here instead of your parents’ place?”

“Long story.” She sliced a spoon through her soup, gathering vegetables and broth which she held in front of her mouth. Steam curled upward. She took a sip and shuddered. “Hot.”

“Go figure.” But he sipped, too. “Do you have any leads on who’s vandalizing your properties? That’s twice now. A pattern. Does someone have an ax to grind with your company?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Some things are better left undiscussed?”

“Especially during a football game.” She pumped her eyebrows, but he saw the truth in the worried way she glanced aside. Any conversation about the job site problems involved him, and Allison wasn’t going there.

“How’s your grandma today?” she asked instead.

“Feisty. She and Flo booked a cruise for January.”

“No way! Will she be ready for that?”

“They think she will. She’s coming along faster than I thought she would. Thanks to you and Flo. You’ve made her want to get stronger.”

Allison put down her spoon. “Which means you’ll be leaving sooner than later.”

“Don’t you think that’s better for everyone?”

“No, I don’t. And if you ask her or Manny and Paulina, I doubt they’ll agree either.”

She had that right. “Paulina wants to adopt me.” He chuckled. “Joking, of course, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“They miss you.”

“I miss them, too.”
But I’ll miss you, most of all.

“Then stay, Jake. Put that one incident behind you and come home for good.”

Home. He’d rambled the country for so long, home was a fantasy.

“I wish I could, but money doesn’t grow on trees.”

“You still haven’t found a solution to the mortgage?”

He probably shouldn’t have told her his concerns about the mortgage. She worried as much as he did.

“Not yet.” He had enough money to live on but paying for Granny’s house along with his own loan payments strained him to the max. The only solution was one he didn’t want to think about yet.

She got up from the table and went to the window. She was slim as a child in her gray sweats and blue socks. Back to him, she said, “How much longer? You won’t leave before January, will you?”

Jake heard the ache in her question and despised himself for putting it there. He followed her to the window, put his hands on her shoulders, massaged the fragile bones that framed the woman he loved. As much as he wanted to, he wouldn’t tell her how he felt. Knowing would only hurt her more in the end, when he left.

Hurting her hurt him, though he didn’t care about his own pain. He doubted she understood that either. He wasn’t some melodramatic teenager anymore who thought only of himself. This was about her, about what he knew was right for Allison.

“Not sure. No longer than that.”

“Not before Christmas. Please, not before Christmas.”

Heaviness rode his shoulders with the weight of a Brahma bull. “I’ll try.”

He couldn’t make promises, not with so much at stake.

Her breath made gray clouds on the windowpane. Beyond the glass, the navy blue evening pressed in, casting shadows and light through the trees. A soft mist fell, weeping softly against the pane.

“I love you,” she whispered. “Doesn’t that matter at all?”

He gentled his touch, stroked the sides of her slender neck. She was soft as air. He ached with wanting to tell her all that was in his heart, but knew better. What good could come of saying words that made promises he couldn’t keep? Words that would only wound her deeper in the end.

In a whisper, he admitted the only thing he dared. “Yes, it matters.”

He was humbled to be loved by someone as amazing as Allison Buchanon. Humbled and broken.

“I think you love me, too.” Her sweet, soft voice throbbed with emotion.

“Allison.” He closed his eyes, holding back the truth. The situation warred inside him. What was best for her? What was right? Was holding back his love a kindness or a stab wound? He didn’t know, so he said nothing.

“I’m starting to feel like a fool, Jake, so if you don’t love me, if I’m wrong, tell me now and I won’t bother you about it anymore.”

He opened his mouth to do exactly that, but the words tumbled out all wrong. “I could never lie to you.”

Slowly, she turned, somehow ending up in his arms, until they were heart-to-heart. “You love me, but you don’t want to come between me and my family.”

What could he say? “As long as I’m in this town, especially if I’m in your life, there will be trouble.”

“But you do love me, don’t you? Please say it, Jake. Give me that much.”

Only a stronger man could look into those soft brown eyes and deny her the truth. “I love you.” He tapped his left chest. “You have me heart and soul.”

The joy that lit her face was as bright as Vegas rodeo lights. Her soft fingertips stroked his jawline. “Love is all we need. The rest will work out.”

He wanted desperately to believe her, at least for this moment. She tiptoed up, pulled his face down and kissed him with a tenderness that made his chest throb. He returned the kiss, holding her face between his rough cowboy hands, breathing her essence.

“I love you so much,” she whispered between kisses and Jake’s knees trembled with the honor she bestowed on him. To be loved by such a woman was beyond anything he deserved.

Deserved. He didn’t deserve her. He couldn’t have her. Her family would always be a wedge that would eventually come between them.

His brain, muddled by her nearness and the great power of her love, fought for clarity. Slowly, gently, he pulled back until he could breathe again, think again. Her sweetness lingered on his lips and in his heart.

She was starry-eyed and beautiful, looking at him as if he could do anything. That’s the way she made him feel. Big and strong and worthy. But he wasn’t, and somehow he had to make her understand.

“Allison, listen to me. Listen.”

Her smile wobbled at the seriousness of his tone. “Don’t. Please Jake, don’t ruin this moment.”

He stepped away from temptation but couldn’t bear to turn loose of her hands. That simple contact sustained him to say what must be said.

“This is crazy. No matter how we feel, love won’t fix things.” He shook his head against the protest he saw coming. “We can’t turn back the clock and erase what I did to your brother. To your family and this town. They don’t want me here. They sure don’t want me to have you. As long as I’m here, they’ll keep up the pressure. They’ll make you miserable. I don’t want you hurt.”

“I can handle my family.”

“You shouldn’t have to. We both know as long as I’m anywhere around Gabriel’s Crossing, you’ll be caught in the middle. There’s no solution other than my absence.”

“Yes, there is.” She slipped her arms around his waist and tilted her face toward his. “I’ll go with you. We’ll leave together.”

Her sacrifice ripped through him like a bull’s horn. “And say goodbye to your family? You can’t do that, Allison. You wouldn’t.”

Soft brown eyes implored him. “Yes, I would. For you.”

Because he was at a loss, he circled her with his arms and held her close. His heart in a vise, his chest exploding, he pondered what he’d done that someone as special as Allison loved him enough to give up everything that mattered.

* * *

Allison had made up her mind. When the time came, she was going away with Jake. Most of the time, she could ignore the anxious knot in her belly. The family would eventually forgive her. They’d have to. Wouldn’t they?

The voice of her conscience said it was wrong. She should talk to her mother or sisters or even her pastor. But she didn’t.

She had a savings account and some stock put aside. They’d be okay. She’d find another job. She’d help Jake pay off the mortgage.

Not that she’d tell him that. Not yet. His male pride would get in the way.

So with her mind made up, she prayed half-baked prayers and hurried home from work every day to see Jake. And if there was conversation about him at work, she ignored the grumbles. Brady and Quinn still believed he’d had something to do with vandalizing the property, regardless of her protests, and even though Dawson looked on her with sympathy, she’d learned to keep quiet and look forward to going home.

Today, she and Jake had escaped to the river outside of town where the muddy red waters lay like rippled stained glass and the cold front from up north had turned the grass a crisp brown and quieted the frogs and crickets. A few leaves clung for dear life to nearly naked limbs, heralding the coming winter, and a weak sun hid somewhere behind a gunmetal silver sky.

Except for waterfowl, this recreational section of the Red lay quiet and empty this late in the season, but in summer teens from Gabriel’s Crossing fished and floated the calm waters on a lazy, winding five-mile stretch.

As a rule Allison preferred other places to this river, but in town privacy was impossible. She didn’t like to think about that night when she’d been a foolish teenager, angry because her family refused to let her date Jake. She seldom thought about the other boy, the one Jake had slammed his fist into because of her. Or of the many tears she’d wept that night in Jake Hamilton’s arms.

The past was the past. Let it stay there. Wasn’t that what she always told Jake and her brothers?