His Texas Wildflower (9 page)

“Oh. Are you trying to tell me that you've never had a father? That your mother raised you single-handedly?”

“No. I had a father up until I was thirteen years old. Then he packed up and left us,” he said flatly.

Pulling her head from beneath his chin, she stared up at him. “Oh, Jake, why?”

His arm dropped from her shoulder and he rose rest
lessly to his feet. Unwittingly, Rebecca also stood as she waited for him to answer.

“He found another woman that he wanted to make a life with—more than he did my mother.”

“So your mother and father divorced?”

“Yeah, they broke up,” he said, his voice heavy with cynicism. “Just like thousands of marriages break up every year.”

Puzzled, she watched him lean a hand against a porch post. “I don't understand, Jake. What sort of answers don't you have about your family? Your father cheated on your mother and they ended their marriage.”

“It's not that cut-and-dried. Maybe for them. But not for me.” He looked at her and for the first time since she'd met him, she saw cold hardness in his eyes. The emotion didn't match the man she'd come to know and the sight of it left her chilled.

“What do you mean?” she asked softly.

“Before Lee—that was my dad's name—left home we had a long talk. He told me that he loved me and that I had nothing to do with the reason he and my mother were getting a divorce. He promised that I would always remain his son and he would call and come back to visit as often as he could.”

“So what happened?”

“That was eighteen years ago and I never heard from him since.”

When he answered his voice was flat, yet in spite of that Rebecca could pick up on his pain, the sense of betrayal he'd been living with for so long now.

“So you see, you and I have something in common, Rebecca. Neither of us knows why our parents lied to us. Or why they made the choices that they did.”

Moving forward, she placed a hand against his back.
“I'm sorry about your father, Jake. But I'll tell you like you told me a few minutes ago. I can't imagine the man keeping you out of his life on purpose.”

He turned toward her and this time there was a rueful twist to his lips, a sad acceptance in his eyes. The idea that he'd been hurt as she'd been, that he'd lived with it for so many years, touched her deeply, drew her to him in a way she hadn't expected.

He said, “Well, I tell myself it doesn't matter anymore.”

“But it does,” she added softly.

“Yeah. Deep down, I guess it does. Just like this thing with your aunt matters to you.”

Her eyes met his and it seemed like the natural thing to reach for his hands and move closer to him.

“Thank you, Jake.”

His brows lifted ever so slightly. “For what?”

“Just for…being here.”

She squeezed his hands and for long moments they simply looked at each other. And then Rebecca realized his head was bending down to hers and she was rising up on her tiptoes to meet him.

When their lips finally made contact, the jolt was electric. As his hard lips gently moved against hers, she lost her breath and a rushing noise sounded in her ears. She was wilting, she thought wildly, drowning in a wave of heat.

A tiny moan sounded in her throat and then she felt his hands moving to her back, anchoring a supportive hold just beneath her shoulder blades.

He thinks I'm going to faint! And maybe I will if he doesn't stop soon!

The thoughts sent her hands crawling up his chest and curling desperate holds on both shoulders. The
movement pressed the fronts of their bodies even closer and, as it did, his mouth turned urgent, hungry.

She clung to him, her heart pounding fast, her lips a throbbing prisoner to his.

And then, just as her senses began to reel off into some heady place, he tore his mouth from hers and stepped backward.

“I—I'd better go, Rebecca. Now.”

Before she could catch her breath to utter a word, he was already down the steps and rounding the back of the house.

Dazed, Rebecca stared after him. What had happened? Why was he leaving?

She didn't stop to think about the answers. Instead, she leaped off the porch and raced after him.

“J
ake! Wait!”

When Rebecca's voice sounded behind him, Jake was reaching for the door handle on his truck.

Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder to see her hurrying toward him. He'd not expected her to follow him out here and the fact that she had both stunned and frustrated him.

As he watched her come to a stop a few steps away from him, he braced himself as best he could and turned to face her head-on.

“Rebecca, you shouldn't have followed me,” he said hoarsely. “I told you I had to leave.”

Her head swung back and forth. “I don't understand, Jake. I thought we were having a lovely evening.”

Something in the middle of his chest squeezed into a tight knot. It was a pain like he'd never felt before and the sensation scared him, almost as much as her kiss had scared him.

“We were. It has been…nice. Real nice. But—” He broke off, amazed that he was at a loss for words. He'd always been able to communicate with women. If words didn't work, then there were always physical ways to express his feelings. But he'd already expressed too much of himself to Rebecca in that way, he thought ruefully.

She stepped closer and for one ridiculous moment, he considered jumping into his truck. At least that way he wouldn't be tempted to jerk her into his arms and smother those luscious lips with more kisses. Instead, he stood his ground and tried not to think about the way she'd made him feel. The way he was still feeling.

Confusion filled her blue eyes. “But what, Jake? You didn't like kissing me?”

He couldn't stop a groan from slipping past his lips. “Of course I liked it!”

“Then why are you running from me?”

Why was he? he wondered. He'd never run from any woman. In fact, he was always happy to let himself be caught—for a little while. “Because what happened between us back there on the porch—I…never planned for that to happen.”

No, but he sure as hell had thought about it, he thought grimly.

She said, “I didn't think you had.”

He let out a heavy breath. “I don't want you to think—” He stopped, then started again. “Look, Rebecca, you're a lady and before I came out here tonight, I assured Quint that I knew how to be a gentleman.”

A smile lifted the corners of her lips and Jake found himself staring at them, wondering why her kiss had felt so different. After all, they were just another pair of plump, pretty lips. They shouldn't have the power to rocket his senses to the moon. But they had.

“Ladies kiss, too, Jake. Especially when they're with a gentleman they like.”

Shaking his head, he tried to laugh, but the sound was more like a helpless groan. “And you think I'm one of those? You're misguided, Rebecca. I'm just a regular Joe, who's good at pretending to be something he isn't. I'm not like the men you go out with. The men you want to kiss.”

Her expression turned serious as she moved another step closer. “How do you know what sort of man I want to kiss?”

He tried to be cool and shrug his shoulder, but inside he was trembling. It was crazy. Laughable. What was the matter with him? Having a woman close to him was a pleasure. One that he often sought.

“I don't. I just know that it isn't a guy like me.”

“Maybe I should have made myself clearer.”

If she'd made herself any clearer, he thought, his self-control would have snapped like a fragile twig between her soft little fingers. It still amazed him that he'd found the wherewithal to pull away from her and end the kiss.

“It's clear enough, Rebecca. We're completely different people. Right now I suspect I'm a novelty to you. City girl meets rough-and-tumble cowboy. That's why the only thing you and I need to be to each other is…friends.”

Sighing, she stepped forward and curled a hand over his forearm. He swiftly realized the touch of her fingers felt just as sweet, or perhaps even sweeter, now that he'd experienced the yielding softness of her lips.

“Jake, why are you doing this?”

He swallowed. “Doing what?”

“Making a big issue over one little kiss. I promise
I wasn't trying to tie a string to you while you weren't looking.”

Any other time, Jake would have laughed at her remark. Especially when it was ludicrous for her to think he was worried about her trying to tie him up. After about thirty minutes she'd want to untie him, kick him in the rear, and send him on back to the rest of the herd. But nothing felt particularly funny to him at the moment.

“I wasn't thinking you were trying to do anything. And I'm not making a big issue.”

“Really? Do you always just jump up and abruptly leave your female guests?”

“You're not my guest tonight. I'm yours.”

Exasperation twisted her lips and then as she continued to study his face, her expression softened and her fingers gently squeezed his arm. “Jake, I don't want you to leave angry. I like you. And tonight has been very special for me.”

The wall of resistance he'd been trying to throw between them suddenly crumbled like old adobe. “Rebecca, I'm not angry. Far from it. I'm just—” Trying to hang on to his sanity, he thought as he searched helplessly for the right words. When none came, he decided plain ole honesty would have to do. “Look, Rebecca, back there on the porch—if I hadn't pulled away from you I—well, if that kiss had went on much longer, I'm not sure I could have stopped.”

“Would that have been so bad?”

Her question tied his gut into a hard knot. Which didn't make sense. She was intimating that his making love to her wouldn't have been out of bounds. Normally that was just the sort of green light he wanted to get from a woman. But he wasn't at all sure it was what he needed to hear from Rebecca.

“A moment ago you said that you liked me,” he replied. “Well, I like you, too, Rebecca. And I don't want something happening to mess that up.”

She searched his face for what felt like an eternity and then she nodded thoughtfully and dropped her hold on his arm. “I understand.”

Did she really? he wondered. Because he sure as hell didn't. Liking a woman had never interfered with him having sex with her. Liking had nothing to do with a roll between the sheets. Until now.

Turning toward the door, he momentarily closed his eyes. “I'd better be going, Rebecca.”

“Will you—will I see you soon?” she asked.

He dared not look at her, otherwise his pretense of being a gentleman might fall apart.

“Sure. I'll come by one evening and take you over to the Rafter R. If you still want to go.”

“Of course I want to go,” she replied. “And before you leave, there's something else I wanted to ask you.”

This caught his attention and forced him to glance over his shoulder at her. “Oh. What's that?”

“The woman at my aunt's funeral—her friend, the one you called Bess. If you think she wouldn't mind I'd like to talk with her. Could you tell me how to find her?”

He angled his shoulders back toward her. “Sure. When you go through Alto there's a little grocery store called Frank's off to your right on 532. She works there in the mornings.”

“Thank you. I'm hoping she can give me a few answers about my aunt.”

“Maybe so,” he said, then jerked open the truck door and climbed beneath the steering wheel, before letting himself look at her. “Goodbye, Rebecca.”

She didn't speak as she lifted a hand in farewell.

With a shaking hand, Jake started the engine and drove away before he could change his mind.

 

The next morning after Rebecca had eaten a small breakfast and fed all the animals, she whistled for Beau and the two of them climbed into the old red Ford and set off for Alto.

Traveling down to the little community to see Bess this morning had been a last-minute decision. Mainly as a reason to get out of the house and away from her thoughts. She'd had a restless night and sunrise hadn't done a thing to improve her mood.

Over and over, she'd been asking herself what had happened last night between her and Jake. They'd talked. A lot. And then they'd kissed. Passionately. She wasn't exactly certain which one of them had initiated their embrace, or if that even mattered. What mattered was that she couldn't get it out of her mind. Nor could she understand his reaction to it.

Forget it, Rebecca. The man doesn't want to get tangled up with you. You're not his type. He practically spelled it out in big bold letters. What more do you want him to do? Say go away?

Rebecca huffed out a heavy breath and glanced over at Beau. The dog was hanging his head out the window, oblivious to her miserable state of mind.

“You're no help at all, Beau. Give you an open window and a little wind in your face and you think you're in heaven,” she muttered.

At the sound of his name, the dog glanced around at her, then just as swiftly turned his attention back to the passing landscape.

Rebecca swiped her blowing hair away from her
forehead, while wishing she could just as easily swipe Jake from her mind. If he didn't want to get tangled up with her, then why would she want to get involved with him? She'd never had to plead or finagle for a man's attention. She had no intentions of starting now.

And yet, there was something about Jake that touched her, made her crave his company, made her dream about kissing him again.

The cell phone lying next to her on the bench seat rang and her foot eased on the accelerator as she glanced down at the illuminated number. Not surprisingly it was her mother ready to make another pitch for her daughter to return to Houston.

Rebecca didn't bother picking up the phone. She wasn't in the mood to have a go-around with Gwyn this morning. Besides that, she wanted her mind clear when she spoke to Gertie's friend, Bess.

In the small community of Alto, she turned right at the highway junction and immediately spotted Frank's, a small brick building with a plate-glass front and a wide dirt parking lot to one side. At the back of the parking area, two huge blue spruce trees shaded a handful of vehicles. She parked next to a dusty Jeep and, before she climbed out, rolled the windows down so that Beau would be cool.

“You stay here, boy, and be nice. I'll be back in a few minutes.” Patting his head, she added, “And maybe I'll bring you a treat.”

The dog grinned and pounded his tail with happy anticipation. As Rebecca left the truck and started toward the store, she thought about her mother and the many times she'd scoffed at Rebecca's wishes to have a pet of her own.

An animal of any kind would be a nasty nuisance,
Rebecca. You're going to have to get over such adolescent fancies. You have a telephone, stereo and television. Just how much more company do you need?

Even after she'd grown up and moved out, Gwyn had reminded her about how hard she worked, how much she traveled and how it wouldn't be fair to have an animal. Rebecca had been unable to make her mother understand that a pet would have been her own special confidant, something she could share her private joys and sorrows with. Gwyn hadn't understood because she was the sort of aloof person that didn't know how to share herself with anything or anyone. And sadly, that had included her twin sister.

Oh, God, don't let me think about my mother now,
she prayed, as she stepped through the open door of the small grocery store. She didn't want to get all angry and stirred up. Not while she talked with the only friend that Gertrude appeared to have had.

After the bright sunlight outside, the interior of the store was dim. The scent of fried food immediately met her nostrils and as her gaze swung toward the one checkout counter to her left, she noticed it was connected to a small deli offering hot food.

Behind the counter, a plump woman wearing a pair of black slacks and a red blouse with the word
Frank's
embroidered on the left breast was counting change back to a young man purchasing bottled sodas. Her hair was a mixture of gray and chestnut and her skin was lined with wrinkles in spite of the fact that she'd probably not yet reached the age of sixty. Those minutes at the cemetery were sketchy for Rebecca, but she did recognize this woman's kind face.

Rebecca waited to one side until the customer had left the building, then stepped up to the counter.

“Can I help you, miss?”

“I think so. Your name is Bess, isn't it?”

The woman used her hip to shove the drawer on the cash register closed. “Why, yes. Do I know you?”

“I'm Rebecca Hardaway. Gertrude O'Dell's niece.”

The woman stared at Rebecca as if she'd just announced she was from Mars.

“You're kiddin' me! You're the same young woman I saw at her funeral?”

Nodding, Rebecca unconsciously glanced down at her casual attire. For this trip, she'd made a point to wear her most faded jeans and a simple T-shirt. Her face was bare of makeup and her hair pulled back into a ponytail. No doubt she looked very different from the “Houston” Rebecca.

“That's right,” she told the woman. “I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to talk with you that day. I wanted to thank you for taking the time to come to my aunt's funeral.”

Bess studied her thoughtfully for a moment or two, then suddenly turned her head and yelled to someone at the back of the store.

“Sadie! Come here and watch the counter for me. It's time for my break.”

“Hold on!” a voice shouted from somewhere in the back of the store. “I'll be there in a minute.”

To Rebecca, Bess said, “There's a place we can sit outside and I got a few minutes if you'd like to talk.”

Behind her, a very young woman with pink-and-black hair and a pierced lip trotted up. “Okay, Grannyma. I'm here. Take your time. It's not like we got a boatload of customers today.” She glanced at Rebecca. “You been helped, sweetie?”