Once Burned (6 page)

“Henry!” she piped.

“That’s liable to get you in trouble,” Vince remarked. “Lindsay’s a proud one.”

“So am I,” Henry remarked.

“Henry, you can’t pay for everything.”

Too quietly for Vince and Evie to hear, he said, “That’s one of my conditions. You said you wanted to feel like someone’s woman again, and since—for the time being—you’re mine, let me treat you like it.”

“I don’t need to be taken care of.”

“I’m well aware of that, and I’m not offering to take care of you.”

Lindsay squared her shoulders and clenched her jaw. “I won’t be like Melanie, letting you pay for everything.”

“No, you won’t because Melanie
expected
me to pay.” He straightened. “Now, if that’s settled, here you go.”

Scowling, Lindsay took her sack back from him. She held on to her irritation all the way to the café where they scarfed a quick lunch of burgers before heading over to the Opera House. Her excitement grew, and she found it difficult to maintain her annoyance, but she tried because she had no intention of allowing Henry to pay for her ticket and couldn’t think of any other way to convince him of that. A few paces from the ticket booth, Henry snatched her hand and yanked her toward him.

With his lip sticking out in a mock pout, he said, “Please don’t be mad at me, Lindsay.”

“I’m not mad at you, but I work damned hard to make sure I can take care of myself and my son because I refuse to have to rely on anyone ever again.”

His pout disappeared, and the same anger she’s seen in his gaze less than half an hour ago returned. “If I ever meet Max, it will take every shred of willpower I possess to resist knocking him right on his ass.”
Without giving her a chance to respond, he turned to the booth and greeted the woman behind the glass. “Hey, Joanie.”

“Henry Hammond, how the heck are you?” the woman replied.

“Good. Yourself?”

“Can’t complain. Here are your tickets.” Joanie slid four tickets under the window. “Enjoy the show.”

“You know I will.”

Lindsay’s scowl returned. “So much for paying for my own ticket.”

“Sorry. I paid over the phone when I called this morning to reserve our seats.”

“Don’t even bother apologizing,” Lindsay muttered, “because that Cheshire cat grin says pretty clearly that you’re not remotely sorry.”

Henry laughed, took her hand, and kissed her palm. Tingles shivered across her skin, and she smiled, unable to maintain her irritation.

The play itself—the Sherlock Holmes mystery
The Sign of the Four
—was marvelous fun, but it was the variety show afterwards that was the best. The actors sang and danced and cracked jokes and brought the show out into the audience. During one song about a lonely sailor wishing for a wife for Christmas, the man singing sat on the arm of Lindsay’s chair.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Lindsay.”

“Well, Lindsay, I must say… you are very fetching.”

“Thank you,” she replied, blushing.

“Hey, Ma!” the actor called to the stage. “I know what I want for Christmas.”

“I agree she’s lovely,” Ma replied, joining him. She made a show of inspecting Lindsay and Henry. “But something tells me she’s already taken. Best keep looking’, Sonny.”

After that, the male actor found another target a few rows back and asked, “How ‘bout this one?”

Lindsay turned her gaze on Henry. He was grinning like he’d just pulled some great joke. “You knew they were going to do that. And that’s why you let me sit on the aisle.”

“I couldn’t have guaranteed it, but it has been known to happen during the variety show.” His pout returned. “Am I in trouble again?”

Smiling, Lindsay kissed him lightly. “No, that was actually pretty cute.”

* * *

After Henry dropped Vince and Evie off at their house with a promise he’d bring Lindsay home after dinner, he drove down to his parents’ house. They were early, so his father and brothers were still out working somewhere on the ranch. He suppressed the twinge of guilt for spending the day with Lindsay in Virginia City instead of helping out, but he’d only just come home, and there’d be plenty of time later to start pulling his weight around the ranch. Besides, he didn’t know how long he’d be here.

As soon as that thought entered his mind, he dismissed it. He’d be here for a while this time. Certainly long enough to get back into the habits of ranch work.

They headed into the house and found his mother in the kitchen prepping for dinner. She greeted them with a wide smile, then embraced Lindsay.

“I’m so glad you decided to come,” she said. “Henry wasn’t sure you’d want to.”

“I didn’t want to impose, Mrs. Hammond, but he assured me I wouldn’t, so how could I say no? Especially since he’s been bragging about your smoky pulled pork and coleslaw all day. If it’s not too much trouble, I’d love to see how you make it.”

“It’s no trouble at all, and please, call me Tracie. Henry, why don’t you take my four-wheeler out to the upper pasture and tell your father and brothers to get down here.”

“Sure, Mom. I take it Beth has Will and Jessie.”

“She does. They should be down in about half an hour.”

“Good. I haven’t gotten to spoil either of them enough yet.” He glanced between his mother and Lindsay and wondered what his mother had up her sleeve. Unable to come up with another excuse to linger and find out what, he quietly asked Lindsay if she would be all right alone with his mother. It was a stupid question because of course she would be, but their encounter with those two assholes in Virginia City hovered at the edges of his mind, and the instinctive need to protect her lingered. He didn’t like recalling the fear-fringed annoyance on her face or the way her body had trembled afterward.

“I’m sure I’ll be perfectly fine,” she said brightly. “Besides, I enjoy cooking, so it’ll be fun.”

He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, bid the women farewell for a few minutes, and stepped back outside. His mother’s four-wheeler was waiting for him, so he swung his leg over the seat, started it, and headed to the upper pasture. He found his siblings and father sitting on the top rail of the jackleg fence, each with a beer in his hand. The corner of Henry’s mouth lifted, and he admitted that he’d missed this particular end-of-day tradition.

“Grab a beer out of the cooler on the back of my four-wheeler,” his father said, “and come join us for a minute.”

Henry popped the cap off with the blade of his Leatherman, then perched on the fence on the other side of Aaron. Together, they sipped their beers and surveyed their sprawling ranch. The pastures nestled up against the thickly forested foothills of the Northstar Mountains were dotted with black and red angus, and the waist-high hay and native grasses waved mesmerizingly in the soft afternoon breeze.

This is where I belong,
Henry thought as he let his eyes roam.

“So, Dad… do you need an extra hand for a while?” he heard himself ask. “Because I could use something to do.”

“You know I can always use a good extra hand.” His father glanced sideways at him, then turned his gaze out across the upper pasture. “I’m glad to have you home, Henry, even though I’m sorry about the circumstances.”

Frowning, Henry studied his father. Somehow, John Hammond knew what had brought his wayward son home. He turned an accusing glare on his brothers. “All right, which one of you jackasses talked?”

“Sorry, Henry,” Nick said. “But Mom and Dad deserved to hear it from family.”

“And I didn’t deserve to tell it when I was ready?” he snapped.

“Well, you have a habit of waiting too long. Come on, Hen. You didn’t even tell anyone you requested a paternity test. Or do you not trust us enough to be there for you through this kind of crap?”

“I don’t know, Nick. Did you trust us to be there for you and Beth twelve years ago when Trey raped her and you were arrested for—”

“That’s not the same thing, and you damned well know it. I did what I thought best to protect her from more pain.”

Nick’s eyes hardened and the muscle in his jaw twitched. There weren’t many things that could set his irritatingly steadfast older brother off, but bringing up Trey Holt and the hell he’d put Nick and Beth through their senior year of college was guaranteed to do it, and Henry was well aware of that. He was pissed at Nick, sure, but he respected his brother and was more than a little disgusted with himself for taking such a low shot in retaliation.

“I kept my mouth shut, didn’t I?” he muttered. “I was going to tell Mom and Dad at dinner. As to why I didn’t tell anyone about the paternity test…. I hoped I was wrong, and there wasn’t much point worrying anyone until I knew.”

With anger and despair again swirling through him, he swallowed the rest of his beer, jumped down off the fence, and headed back to the four-wheeler. “Mom wants you all to head down to the house to get cleaned up for dinner.”

“Henry!” his father called after him.

He ignored the summons and sped off.
Goddammit.

No less angry when he arrived back at the house, he skidded to a stop at the front door and yanked the key out of the ignition before he headed inside. When he slammed the door behind him, his mother and Lindsay jerked their heads up from whatever they were huddled over. Curious, he craned his neck and saw a notebook on the counter in front of Lindsay.

“What?” she asked when she noticed his preoccupation.

“Notes?”

“Yeah,” she said shyly. “Your mom doesn’t have a recipe for this.”

“I guess you weren’t kidding when you said you like to cook.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Yet… you’re a waitress instead of a chef.”

“Tips,” she said simply.

There was a sharpness to her voice that made him wonder what she wasn’t saying. He didn’t have time to question her because he noticed his mother watching them with a curious expression.

“What?” he asked.

“You came stomping through that door all fired up about something,” his mother said. “Yet you seem to have been at least momentarily distracted from whatever it was.”

He wished he hadn’t asked because he
had
been distracted, and now his anger returned full force. Scowling, he said, “I assume you know, too.”

“Know what, dear?” Tracie inquired. Her too-nonchalant tone was evidence enough that she knew exactly what he referenced.

“You know about Dylan.”

She sighed and offered him a hug and a sympathetic smile. “Yes, honey, I know about Dylan. Nick told us this morning, but to be honest, it wasn’t much of a surprise. I assume you’re angry that he told us.”

“Yeah, I am. It wasn’t his to tell, goddammit.”

“It makes it easier, though, doesn’t it?” Lindsay asked gently. “The secret is out, so you don’t have to worry yourself sick over how to tell your parents anymore. I imagine your brother was simply trying to make it easier on everyone by being the bearer of bad news.”

Stubbornly, Henry tried to hold on to his anger, but it withered, leaving him deflated and hollow. He wandered a few steps to the dining room table and sank onto the nearest chair. In truth, he’d been prepping himself all day to break the devastating news to his parents—since he’d found out, really—and now that he didn’t have to, he wasn’t sure what to do next. Lindsay was right, however. It
was
a relief to have his secret out in the open. When she pulled out the chair beside him and sat facing him, he met her concerned gaze.

She had such beautiful blue eyes, he thought, so full of compassion and kindness. It was unusual to be so soothed by her presence when Melanie’s attempts to defuse his anger only ever added more fuel to the fire. What was it about Lindsay that had the power to make him take a deep breath and refocus?

“I’m probably overstepping my bounds,” she murmured, “but I think you need to let your family help you through this. They all love you. Your mom told me you’ve always liked to work things out yourself, but this may be one of those times that you can’t do it on your own.”

Henry had the overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around her and hug her until the rest of his bitterness settled into a manageable ache again, but he resisted.

“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t know if I can do that, but you’re right that I need to. How is it that you know me so well?”

“I’ve been where you are,” she replied. “Maybe not
quite
the same situation, but I know what it’s like to be used and betrayed and how it makes you feel like you’re somehow flawed. And I thought I could handle it myself, but I was wrong. I needed my family and friends to remind me that I wasn’t the defective one.”

“You’re most definitely
not
defective,” Henry whispered and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “
I
may be, but you’re not.”

“You aren’t, either.” She stood but didn’t immediately return to the kitchen. With a mischievous gleam in her eyes, she said, “Now, if you’re about done with your pity party, may I get back to helping with dinner?”

She didn’t wait for his response and instead turned away with little more than a sassy wink. Despite himself, he chuckled, once again finding himself glad he’d accepted her proposition at the Bedspread. The composure she helped him find remained firmly in place even when his father and brothers came in and immediately started in on him about Dylan and Melanie. It probably helped that Nick began with an apology.

“I should have let you tell it in your own time.”

“I appreciate that, and I’m sorry, too, for the cheap shot. Lindsay’s right that you made it easier on me, and I’m glad it’s out in the open. And it sounds like I was more surprised by the results of the test than any of you.”

“I don’t know that you were surprised, either,” Aaron said. “But you were hopeful, and believe me, we all understand why.”

“I suppose I should have listened to you all. You never cared much for Mel, and I didn’t want to open my eyes to see why.”

His father studied him with narrowed eyes. “I think that may be the fastest you’ve ever gotten over being mad at your brothers.”

“Curious, isn’t it?” Tracie asked from the kitchen.