McKettricks of Texas: Austin (33 page)

He eased Paige down onto the mattress, sideways this time, with her legs dangling. And then he knelt between
her thighs. Lightly, he kissed her right knee, and then her left. Paige, knowing what was about to happen, groaned his name.

He leaned over and kissed the soft flesh of her belly. “Tell me what you want,” he said.

Paige told him exactly what she wanted.

And she got it.

I
T HAD BEEN
nearly a week since Austin and Paige had come to terms and decided maybe they'd try again. Or maybe not.

The private cemetery on the Silver Spur was a peaceful place, set high on a ridge overlooking miles of McKettrick land. There were oak trees all around, and stone benches scattered among the graves.

Austin took off his hat as he approached the fancy marble marker with an intricate frieze of running horses chiseled above the inscriptions.

James Angus McKettrick. Sally Fletcher McKettrick.
There were dates underneath, bridging the too-short span of their lives.

He knew his folks weren't hanging around that graveyard, nor were any of the other departed family members, but sometimes it comforted him, coming here. Not that he'd visited in a long time, because he hadn't.

High up in the sky, a hawk wheeled in a wide, graceful circle, and Austin paused to watch it for a few moments before clearing his throat and turning his attention back to the graves, two among some fifty or sixty final resting places.

“I guess you most likely already know this,” he told his mom and dad quietly, “but I need to tell you anyhow.” Again, he paused. Swallowed hard. Shep, who'd come
along for the ride, bouncing along on the seat of one of the ranch work trucks, sat down in the grass beside Austin and leaned heavily against his leg. “There are a few things I'd undo in my life if I had the chance, and one of them is talking you two into driving to Lubbock to watch me ride in that rodeo instead of heading for Hawaii, like you planned on doing.” He choked up then, had to stop and shut his eyes until the burning let up a little. “Right or wrong, though, feeling bad and wishing things had been different won't change what happened. And I've been feeling real bad, for a long time.”

Shep made a soft sound, part whimper and part yip.

“I figure it's time to put all that aside,” Austin went on, “as much as I can anyway, and get on with things.”

He looked up at the brittle-blue sky again, took it in from horizon to horizon, and it seemed to fill his chest and ache there, as though he'd breathed it in somehow.

They'd made love every chance they got, he and Paige, and they'd done a lot of talking, too, but so far the most important words had yet to be said, by either one.

Austin didn't have any doubt whatsoever that he loved Paige Remington.

As a boy, he'd loved her in the best way he knew how—by driving her off before they wound up hog-tied and hating each other.

As a man, he wasn't sure how to go about loving Paige at all, beyond pleasing her physically, of course. That was an easy matter, because Paige was all woman, ripe and responsive, fiercely generous in the giving and in the taking.

She was a lot of other things, too, though.

Paige was smart and sassy, with plans and goals and plenty of opinions, many of which directly opposed his
own. She had that house in town, and the job she meant to take at the clinic in Blue River, when it finally opened up, and she flat-out didn't need him or any other man to do just fine for herself, thank you—any more than Libby needed Tate that way, or Julie, Garrett.

None of the Remington women
needed
their men.

But wanting was another thing.

Austin squared his shoulders. “I plan on asking Paige Remington to marry me,” he said. “And I don't have any idea what she'll say. Maybe yes, maybe no. She's pretty bullheaded, if you recall.” He stopped, grinned. “Guess she'd have to go some to beat me when it comes to bullheaded, though,” he admitted. “Anyway, that's what I wanted to tell you. That after all this time, I still love that woman so much it scares me, and that I'm real sorry for the other part, too. The accident, when you were coming back from the rodeo, I mean.”

Again, his throat closed up tight.

He knew Jim and Sally McKettrick would never have held that accident, or anything else, against him. They'd been steadfast, loving parents, both of them, but it was always understood that their first commitment was to each other. Instead of making Tate, Garrett and Austin feel shut out, the solidarity of the elder McKettricks had engendered a quiet and unshakable sense of security in their children.

Austin stood still for a while, remembering, appreciating and, yes, missing his mom and dad. Finally, he nodded a farewell, turned and walked away, putting his hat back on as he went. Shep, eager for whatever might be next on the agenda, pranced along beside him. Now that Doc had replaced the bandage on his hind leg with an even smaller one, that dog was as spry as a pup.

When they got to the pickup—Austin still hadn't found the time to buy himself a rig to replace his old truck, now back from the repair shop and parked in one of the sheds alongside some old-time haying equipment—he went around to the passenger side and opened the door.

Shep needed only a little boost to scramble inside as far as the floor, and he made it onto the seat all on his own.

Austin went around to the driver's side, but before he climbed behind the wheel, he turned to look back at the cemetery.

His parents and grandparents and great-grandparents were all buried there, starting with Clay McKettrick and his wife. In that place, the generations doubled back on each other and created a sort of circle, because, of course, even his great-grandparents had been somebody's children, once. Every resident had been a McKettrick, by birth or adoption or by marriage.

Austin sat for a few moments before he started up the truck. Paige was waiting for him back at the house, and probably getting fidgety—the longer she had to wear that cast, the harder she was to get along with. He enjoyed trying, though. There were plenty of fireworks, but that only made the making-up more fun.

Tonight's event
was
a big one—the final performance of Julie's high school musical, which had been a spectacular success by Blue River standards, and the whole family was fixing to gussy up and attend.

Still, Austin took a moment to reflect a little. Someday, he'd be laid to rest in that cemetery, like the rest of his Texas kin. He just hoped he'd have plenty of time to live and love before that inevitable day came. He wanted to
herd cattle and argue with his brothers and make babies with Paige.

He wanted to see those babies grow up to fall in love, marry and have babies of their own.

He wanted to dance with Audrey and Ava on their wedding days, and shake Calvin's hand when the boy genius graduated from some fancy college with top honors. He was bound to do big things, and the twins, too.

First, though, before Austin could begin living his way through the life he was planning, he'd have to ask Paige if she'd have him for a husband. As much as she enjoyed tangling the sheets with him, it might take some persuading to convince her to make it legal and binding.

It was, after all, one thing to love a person—and Austin was pretty sure Paige loved him, just as he loved her—but it was another to
trust
someone. Without trust, love wasn't going to be enough for the long haul, no matter how passionate it was, and Austin wasn't willing to settle for anything less than a lifetime with Paige.

He sighed. He'd ask her. If she said no, he'd wait a while and then ask her again. Eventually, she'd come around.

He shifted the truck into gear and gave it some gas. As he drove down the cemetery hill, Austin could see the oil field, now staffed with security guards, in the distance, along with the main house and the barn, the old Ruiz place, where Tate and Libby had lived with the twins until recently, and the staff trailers standing along one side of the winding creek.

It all looked familiar and, at the same time, different. Of course, the ranch hadn't changed all that much, but he had.

He was sure of some things he hadn't been able to pin
down before, like how he felt about Paige and living out the rest of his life on the Silver Spur. He'd loved his years in rodeo, thrived on the competition and excitement, but now he was content to make the switch from participant to spectator, and let other men ride the bulls and the broncs.

As for Tate and Garrett, well, he supposed they'd always see him as their little brother, at least some of the time. That didn't bother Austin so much anymore, because now he knew he could stand toe to toe with one or both of them if the need arose, and hold his own. The other side of that coin was the bone-deep certainty that his brothers always had his back, just as he had theirs.

Whenever he'd needed them, they were there, and the reverse was true as well. Being a McKettrick was a blood-bond, something that went way beyond common loyalty and family feeling.

For the first time, Austin had a glimmer of what it would mean to carry that pride into the next generation, to be a strong link in the chain.

And the only woman in the world he wanted was Paige.

 

P
AIGE TOOK REAL PRIDE
in being Julie's sister that night, when the auditorium next to the high school filled with a closing-night crowd. There were so many people in attendance, even though there had been several previous performances, that the massive sliding doors separating the main theater from the annex had to be opened and folding chairs set up.

Austin sat beside her, wearing crisp jeans, good boots and a starched white shirt. He'd taken her hand, and
though his grip was easy, Paige knew he wouldn't let her go, no matter what, and there was solace in that.

She felt a buzz of excitement, down deep, that had little to do with the play. The closest she could have come to defining the sensation was to say that there was a new certainty in her, a new kind of strength, lasting and good.

The McKettrick bunch took up a whole first row, and there was a lot of standing up and shaking hands as they greeted friends and neighbors. Folks inquired after Austin's shoulder and Paige's foot, and said they didn't know what the world was coming to when a man wasn't safe on his own oil field, and never mind the time of day.

Brent Brogan came, along with his aunt, Gerbera, and his two children. He looked extrahandsome, having donned a natty black suit instead of his uniform.

Like Austin, Garrett and Tate wore more casual jeans and cotton shirts, and Calvin wore a miniature version of the same outfit. He had a little hat, boots and a McKettrick belt buckle, recent gifts from Garrett.

Libby, like Paige, wore a long skirt and a lightweight sweater, and Audrey and Ava were all done up in their “Thanksgiving” outfits —pretty, velvet dresses, one red and one blue, and cut differently—with their hair in French braids.

They'd talked Libby into letting them wear the dresses early, even though Thanksgiving was still a week away.

Folks settled into their seats and quieted, faces bright with expectation. The lights went down.

The band members, fidgeting in the orchestra pit until then, launched smoothly into the prelude. Except for a few squeaky notes, to be expected of high school musicians, they did an amazing job. All that dedicated practice was paying off.

The costumes, designed and sewn at home in most cases, were splendid. The dancing, much-rehearsed if still a little on the awkward side at times, was impressive, and so was the singing.

Paige watched and listened, delighted, as her sister's project went off without any significant hitches.

When it was over, the audience leaped to its feet, whistling and stomping as well as clapping and the actors, crew and band members all took well-deserved bows.

Julie was the woman of the hour, though, and as she took the stage, she looked very glamorous in her simple black dress and the double strand of creamy ivory pearls Garrett had given her earlier in the evening. Her reddish hair glinted in the lights, and her changeable eyes looked silver-gray. Her smile sought and found Calvin and Garrett, sitting together, and rested softly on them for a moment.

Julie thanked everyone who had been involved in the production—from actors to stagehands to volunteers and school staff—and said what an honor it had been to share in the whole process. One of the drama club mothers joined her onstage, carrying a giant bouquet of yellow roses, and placed them in Julie's arms. The applause began again and climbed to a thunderous crescendo. Julie positively glowed.

She was still surrounded by a delighted and grateful community when Austin retrieved Paige's crutches from under the seats and then stood to help her to her feet. She caught Julie's eye and winked, and Julie winked back, smiled and mouthed the words, “Go. I'll see you at home.”

Home
.

The word made Paige feel slightly melancholy as she
let Austin guide her up the aisle, opening the way for both of them as beaming audience members streamed in the opposite direction, bent on offering their congratulations to the team of people who had made the production possible.

They'd borrowed Tate's Jaguar for the evening, because it was easier for Paige to get in and out of it with her cast, and Austin stood watching her with shining eyes as he held open the passenger-side door. Getting settled inside was quite a process, but between the two of them, they managed.

“Guess what,” Paige said sunnily when Austin was behind the wheel, buckled in and starting the motor.

He slanted a grin at her. “What?”

“The renovations on the house are finally done,” Paige said. “I can move in any time.”

Austin didn't immediately respond, and that was something of a disappointment to Paige, although she didn't acknowledge the fact.

“Of course,” she went on, keeping her tone bright, “I can't start my new job at the clinic until I'm out of this cast, but there will be plenty to keep me busy anyway, between the wedding preparations and picking out new furniture and getting settled and everything.”

He was quiet, navigating the darkened, almost-empty roads that were so familiar to both of them.

“Austin?” Paige prompted.