She’s Gone Country (18 page)

Dane glances at me quizzically. “You’re never going to grow up, are you.”

“Hope not,” I answer, closing the door.

He sighs, but I see a twinkle in his eye and know he’s enjoying my silliness. I don’t think Dane has a lot of people in his life who allow him to be foolish. But he needs the foolishness and silliness. He needs to laugh. We all need to laugh.

Dane is driving the back roads on our way to the building supply store on the outskirts of town. Since it’s the day after Thanksgiving, the roads are empty, and I study the landmark trees and fences and ghostly gas stations with passing interest. I like small towns and old buildings and fences that are falling apart. They have character. I like character.

“There’s something I want to say to you,” I say as we approach Mineral Wells. “But you’re not going to like it.”

He shoots me a side glance. “That’s never stopped you before.”

“I know, but you’re going to say it’s none of my business. And you’re right, it’s not, but I care about you, Dane—”

“Just say it. I hate it when women beat around the bush.”

Fine. I’ll give it to him straight, then. “Lulu’s wrong,” I say bluntly. “Those pictures of Matthew should be all over the house where you can see them and enjoy them. She has no business telling you to put them in your office. And why would they make her uncomfortable?”

“Because he died.”

I see red, and I just completely snap. “Lord, I hate her. I do, Dane. I realize I don’t know her. I realize she might be a very nice lady. But she’s not the right lady for you. You were Matthew’s dad. You will always be his dad. And putting those pictures in your study changes nothing—”

“I know.”

He’s pulled into the store parking lot, parks in an empty space, and turns off the ignition. I just stare at him. “Are you in love with her?”

He swings open his door. “Let’s just get the supplies we need and get to your house.”

“Just answer me. Do you love her?”

His green eyes meet mine. His jaw is hard, expression flinty. “No. I don’t love her.”

“But she’s living with you now?”

“No.”

“Coop said she’d moved in.”

He grabs his cane and steps out. “If you’d rather listen to a twelve-year-old—”

“I wouldn’t. That’s why I’m asking you.”

We face each other on the asphalt. “Lulu’s having her house remodeled. She needed somewhere to stay while they gutted and painted and whatever else they’re doing to the interior.”

“So she’s just there temporarily.”

Dane rolls his eyes. “Yes. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Now can we just pick up what we need and get over to your house?”

The lumberyard has the door and frame waiting for us, and while they’re both being loaded into the back of the truck, Dane picks up new locks, hardware, and a couple of cans of primer and paint. With everything charged to his account, we return to his truck and start for my house.

By the time we reach the ranch house, it’s almost eleven. I knew it would be a mess, but I’d forgotten just how bad it is.

Heart thumping, I step around the broken dishes in the kitchen and into the living room, where the upended drawers and scattered cushions remind me of the aftermath of a tornado.

“Glad the boys aren’t here to see this,” I say, picking up the sofa cushions and placing them back on the couch. “I don’t want them to know about this, either. They’re not used to being this isolated, and Bo’s already jumpy as it is.”

With the furniture returned to its rightful place, I tackle cleaning up the broken glass and straightening the kitchen while Dane pulls out the old door frame and hammers in the new.

He uses some pieces of wood he brought from his house to trim out the door, and once he’s sanded it, he applies the primer. It takes most of the day to get the house cleaned up and the new door and locks installed. Dane doesn’t just install a dead bolt on the new back door, he puts a new dead bolt on the front door and additional hardware on the windows, too.

“This poor house,” I say as he finishes up. “It’s in terrible shape. I really need to put some money and muscle into it.”

“Well, the new door and locks are a start.”

We’re in the kitchen, where I’ve just made a pot of coffee. I pour him a cup. “I’ve got some pound cake and zucchini bread in the freezer if you’re hungry. Charlotte’s always baking something sweet for us.”

“I’ll wait for dinner. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.” He carries his coffee to the new back door and checks his handiwork, making sure the knob turns easily and the dead bolt works well.

I like watching him work, like how he makes installing a door look easy. A man who can build things, make things, is seriously sexy. But then everything about Dane is sexy. His face, his body, his lips, his eyes, even his walk.

“How does the cold affect your hip?” I ask as he moves his cane out of the way while he jiggles the door handle harder.

“The cold makes everything ache a little more,” he answers, satisfied that the lock will hold and the door is now secure.

“I know you were hurt badly twice. But it was the second time that ended your career. What exactly happened?” I see his smile fade. He doesn’t want to talk about it. “Never mind. You don’t have to tell me.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “You like asking a lot of questions.”

I wipe the counter clean and then wash my hands at the sink, taking my time to dry them on the dish towel hanging on the oven door. “I’ve been gone twenty years. I’ve missed out on a lot and am still trying to catch up.”

He joins me at the sink and squirts dish soap into his hands, then scrubs them clean. “You didn’t miss that much. Things around here don’t really change.”

I hand him the dish towel once he’s rinsed his hands clean. “You’ve changed.”

“I limp now. That’s about it.”

“Hardly. You’ve been married, divorced, a father, as well as a three-time national bull-riding champ. You run one of the most respected bucking breeding programs in the country, and you still know how to fill out a pair of Wranglers.”

“You’re always going to be shallow, aren’t you.”

“If you mean will I always be attracted to you, yes.”

He tosses the damp dish towel at me. “Don’t even go there.”

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

I snap his leg with the towel. “Because of Lulu?”

He sighs. “Lulu’s not the issue.”

“So what’s the issue?”

“Your brothers.”

“Are a pain in the butt.”

“And they wouldn’t like it.”

“Since when did you care what people thought?” I snap the towel again but just miss his thigh. “You’re Dane Kelly. Tough as nails. Fearless bull rider. National champion.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

I’m getting worked up, not even sure why, but I want to rile him up, want him to feel as frustrated as I do. I twist the towel, about to snap him again when he reaches out and grabs the end as I snap it.

He doesn’t let go.

Neither do I.

“You’re asking for trouble, darlin’.”

I lift my head and look up into his face to better see his eyes. They’re so beautiful.

“Let go,” he says.

Maybe I don’t know him, but I have loved him anyway. I have loved him my whole life and maybe it’s an imperfect love, and an impractical love, but it’s still love. “You let go.”

He pulls on the beige towel, hard. “Come on, Shey.”

“No.”

“You’re not going to win.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But that doesn’t mean I have to give up.” My fingers ache from holding on to the towel so tightly, and even holding it as hard as I am, he’s still able to inch me toward him, closing the gap between us. “There’s something I’ve wanted to know for years,” I say.

“What’s that?”

My arm is beginning to tremble, so I use both hands to grip the towel. “Why Shellie Ann?”

He’s pulled me to within a foot of him. “First Lulu, now Shellie Ann?”

“Yes.”

“That was so long ago. Twenty years ago.”

“I don’t care. I’m still curious.”

He’s got me in front of him, toe to toe. My knees bump his, and with another tug on the towel, my chest touches, too.

“Why her? What did she have?”

Dane reaches out to touch my cheek. “You don’t want to do this.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not going to make you feel better.”

“But at least I’d know. I’d know it was her humor or her warmth or her quick mind that attracted you. I’d know you loved her intelligence—”

“Stop. She wasn’t brainy like you, Shey. Or fiery. Or funny.”

“Then what was it? What made her the right one for you?” I’m practically resting against his chest, and he’s warm, so warm. I can feel the width of his ribs, the hard oval of his belt buckle, the sinewy strength of his thighs. He’s definitely all man.

“She got pregnant.”

I freeze, and he lets go of the towel to slide his arm around me and rest his hand low on my back. “She got pregnant, and that took care of that.”

I never expected him to say that. Never in a thousand years. “You should have told me,” I whisper, shivering at the touch. I love his hand on me. It makes me hot and cold and desperate for more.

“Why? We would never have worked.”

“You made me hate you.”

“That’s probably a good thing. You’re not a country girl, Shey Lynne. You were never cut out for this life.”

“You don’t know that.” The warmth of his palm penetrates the worn-out denim of my jeans, making me aware of my body, his hand, and my skin. I’d forgotten that my body could feel like this, and it just makes me want more. The desire is raw and primitive and nearly all-consuming.

“You’re still not cut out for this life,” he adds, his palm sliding down my butt to my thigh.

I ache for him. I’m mad for him. I want him like a drug.

“You won’t be staying,” he adds. “You’ll be gone within a year. Two if you’re stupid.”

I hear the word
stupid,
but I also feel him responding, and I rub up against his erection. I want him. Hot, hard, wild. His body in mine, taking me, possessing me, making me feel what I haven’t felt in so long—good, beautiful, wonderful.

I never used sex as an escape before, but I want it now. I want him now, want to finally be his woman… even if it’s only for one day.

“Your kids are city kids,” he answers, taking my hips and holding them snug against him. “Your kids’ father lives there. They need their father.”

“I’m not going back.”

“I don’t believe it. Your kids are too important to you.” He sets me back, pushing me gently away. “It’s getting late. I still have plenty to do on my property, so we should probably head back.”

His tone is flat and curiously detached, and I’m horrifyingly close to tears. For twenty years I believed Dane had fallen head over heels for Shellie Ann, and in the beginning I tortured myself by imagining them together, picturing her as his great love, his soul mate. Now I discover that maybe none of it was true.

“Maybe it’s better if I stay here tonight,” I say hoarsely. “You’ve fixed the door and changed the locks. I’m sure I’ll be safe.”

“You don’t have your keys. You can’t drive your truck—”

“I’ll call Manny tomorrow. I’m sure he can send a locksmith over.”

“Sorry, darlin’. I promised Brick you’d stay at my place until he was back in town, and I’m going to keep that promise.”

“So this is about Brick?”

“This is about you, and keeping you safe.”

“But I am safe now!”

“The guy who broke in has your wallet, your phone, all your ID. If he didn’t know who lived here before, he does now.”

If his words didn’t give me pause, his rough tone does. But Dane’s not done. In fact, he’s just warming up. “Your nearest neighbor is fifteen minutes away, and as you discovered last night, the sheriff takes even longer to get here. So no, I’m not worried what Brick will think. I’m worried Brick’s right. We don’t know who this guy is. We don’t know what he wants. And yeah, things are complicated between us, but awkward and uncomfortable is a hell of a lot better than seeing you hurt.”

D
ane’s not happy as we head to his house, and I glance at his profile illuminated by the green white light of his dash. His jaw’s set. His mouth’s hard. There’s nothing remotely tender about him.

“You confuse me,” I say finally, breaking the silence.

He doesn’t answer, and I study the straight length of his nose, the angle of his cheekbones, the line of his brow. “I can’t tell if you like me or hate me—”

He cuts me short. “You’re being absurd.”

“I’m not. I’m confused. Did I do something wrong back there? Say something? Push a hot button?”

His jaw tightens. “Things had gone far enough.”

“But nothing happened!”

“It could have.”

“Good. I hoped something would happen.”

He shoots me a swift side glance. “In your mama’s kitchen?”

“Yes.”

He just shakes his head. “You scare me, Shey Lynne. You really do.”

“You
asked
.”

“Some things are better left unsaid.”

“Are we back to the whole fake polite southern lady thing again? Good girls don’t do this, good girls don’t say that… Well, that’s ridiculous and it’s not me. I’m not your good little southern girl. I’m a Texas girl. Straight up. Honest. Strong.” I shoot him a dark glance. “And I honestly can’t believe you’d want me to be all fake and sugary sweet. Yes, Dane. No, Dane. How high should I jump, Dane?”

“Knock it off.”

“Why should I? I’m tired. Tired of dancing around what’s right in front of us.” We’ve reached the edge of his property and pass through the gates, bouncing over the wide cattle guard. “I like you. You know I like you. And I can’t figure out if the feeling is mutual—”

He slams on his brakes, and I put a hand out to the dash to brace myself. “You can’t figure that one out? Well, let me clear up the confusion, then. I’ve been attracted to you since we were kids and you were just a skinny blond pipsqueak in pigtails and boots. Which is why
screwing
you isn’t an option.”

I cringe at his crudity. He’s angry, really angry. But I don’t understand why.

“If I could control myself around you at twenty-two,” he continues, “I can certainly keep my dick in my pants now.”

“Why are you doing this? Why are you talking like this? What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” He drags a hand through his hair and gives his head a shake. “Hell, Shey, what’s wrong with you? You might have filed for divorce, but it hasn’t been granted, which means you’re still married.”

I lie wide awake in Dane’s guest room, letting his words play over and over in my head.

You’re still married,
he said.
Married. Married.

And if I weren’t married, would it be okay for him to be with me?

If I weren’t married, could we be together?

But I am still legally married, and in many ways, I still feel emotionally and psychologically tied to John. We might be living a thousand miles apart, but he’s the father of my kids. He’s my partner of the past seventeen years. It’s hard to sever the tie completely so quickly.

Thinking of John makes me think of the boys, and I feel a rush of emotion. I miss my kids. Miss their faces, their big bodies, their noise, their chaos, even their attitude. They fill my life with activity and energy and conversation. I don’t even remember life without them. I don’t want a life without them.

And when they’re home, you can hide behind them,
a little voice whispers.

You can make them your world. Make them your mission and bury yourself in their wants and demands so you can pretend you don’t need anything but them. But it’s a lie. And you know it’s a lie. Or you wouldn’t still feel this way about Dane.

I throw an arm over my face, trying to hide, because that little voice inside my head is unfortunately usually right.

I’m still asleep the next morning when Dane knocks on my bedroom door. I hear it but don’t open my eyes. It took me hours to fall asleep last night, and I’m not ready to face the day yet.

The knock sounds again, and Dane’s deep voice rumbles through the door. “Shey, Brick’s on the phone.”

“I’ll call him later,” I answer.

“He thought you’d say that. So I’m to tell you that your mother is getting in the car and heading here this minute.”

“Really?” I throw back the covers, march to the door, and open it wide.

Dane’s in the hallway wearing nothing but jeans and dense, sculpted muscle. I know he’s forty-five, but he’s got the lean, hard body of a twenty-year-old.

“It’s your family,” he says, handing me the phone.

I put the phone to my ear, aware that I’m in one lousy mood. “Brick, if you’re calling to see if I’ve been ravished yet, the answer is no.”

Dane shakes his head at me in disgust and walks away, giving me an opportunity to check out his butt.

Brick’s sigh is audible over the phone. “What’s going on there?”

“Nothing. Unfortunately.”

“What do you mean?”

“Apparently Dane, your archenemy, has scruples. He won’t have sex with me because I’m still married.”

Brick mutters something unintelligible before taking a breath and saying quite clearly, “You’re out of control.”

I return to my room and lie down on the bed. “I’m almost forty, Brick, I’m not out of control. You guys are just cavemen and it’s pathetic and annoying and you’re making New York look more appealing all the time.”

“You tried to sleep with Dane?”

“It didn’t get that far.”

“Lord almighty, Shey Lynne.”

I pull up the covers, nestle deeper into the downy warmth. “Am I never supposed to have sex again?”

“This isn’t a conversation I want to be having, but no. My sister doesn’t need sex. You’ve already done it three times and that’s more than enough.”

“Is Mama really on her way?”

“No. Not yet, at least.” He hesitates. “The sheriff’s department phoned me a little bit ago. They’ve got a positive ID on the guy who broke in.” He exhales slowly. “Shey, the guy’s got an extensive record. He’s a repeat offender with a violent history. Battery. Burglary. Worse.”

Worse? There aren’t many things worse than battery and burglary. Just rape and murder. “Thank God I was able to call for help.”

“It could have been bad,” he agrees. “I’m on my way home now. Char’s going to stay with Carolyn for the next week and get a start on her Christmas shopping. I’m going to stay with you and the boys at the house. Hopefully they’ll catch this guy soon.”

I throw on jeans and a long-sleeved red T-shirt without bothering with a bra and race downstairs to find Dane. I search the house without any luck, which sends me out the front door. I spot Dane next to the barn, hitching a trailer to his truck, and race toward him. He’s wearing a leather barn coat and hat and looks as though he’s just about finished up.

“Did Brick tell you?” I ask, shivering. The temperature has dropped, but it’s Brick’s news that’s chilled me.

He looks up from the trailer hitch, expression grim. “He did.”

I rub my arms. “The guy has a violent history. A repeat offender.”

“Now you know why I wasn’t about to leave you behind last night.”

“You knew about this guy?”

“No. Just that there’s been a string of break-ins in Parker County,” he says. Parker is just one county over. “Last time a couple got hurt.”

“You think this guy would return to the scene of a crime?”

“Knowing what this guy’s done… if he thought you were alone… maybe. That’s why we both want you to stay here.”

“You and Brick suddenly teammates?”

“I wouldn’t say that, but we’re both in agreement that it’s better to err on the side of caution, and not just for your sake, but for your boys.”

The boys. What if the boys had been home the night of the break-in? I shudder at the thought. “Let’s not talk about it anymore. I have to live in that house, and I don’t want to be scared. I’ve never been scared. I grew up there. I’m raising my boys there. I want to feel safe.”

“I’ve got a security company out there today. They’re putting in the same system I have here. Motion detectors, sensors on the glass, alarms, Pelco videocameras. If anyone tries to enter your house, the alarm company immediately notifies Brick and the sheriff. You’ll be safe. I promise.”

“Good.” And I am reassured. I’ve seen Dane’s security setup and it’s impressive. It’s what you’d expect to find in a Fortune 500 company instead of a country home. “Looks like you’re heading someplace. Am I included or do I have to stay here?”

“I’m heading to Stephenville to pick up one of my bulls. Want to come?”

“Can we stop for coffee and pancakes somewhere?”

He smiles, eyes creasing. “You’re in luck. Eggs’n Things is on the way.”

It is nearly noon by the time we reach Stephenville, where Dane picks up one of his bulls that’s been on the circuit but has just been retired. I stay in the truck while Dane and the cowboy load the bull and then stand around and talk. The cowboy’s familiar, but I can’t place him and wonder if perhaps he went to school with one of my brothers.

As Dane and the cowboy talk, I stretch out my legs and close my eyes, but my mind keeps returning to the break-in and how grateful I am that the boys weren’t home. They would have tried to play hero, make a bold move, and God knows what would have happened then. I shiver just thinking about it.

A few minutes later, Dane climbs back in the truck, waves farewell to the cowboy, and we set off.

“You okay?” Dane asks as we drive away.

“Yeah. Just thinking about the guy who broke in. It’s scary.”

“It is. But Brick will be back soon and the security will be in place and you’ll be okay, I promise.”

“No, I know. And I’m not scared for me as much as I’m worried about the boys. I keep picturing Cooper confronting the guy—”

“Stop torturing yourself. It didn’t happen. It’s not going to happen. And the guy’s going to get caught.”

I nod and force myself to think about other things now. After a moment, I mention to Dane that the cowboy looked familiar. “I know I know him,” I tell Dane. “Did he go to school with you? Was he friends with Brick?”

“He’s five years younger than me, closer to your age than mine.” Dane leans forward to get a better look into his rearview mirror before merging from Morgan Mill Road onto 281. Pulling a trailer, particularly a trailer with a thousand-pound animal, takes patience and skill. “But he should be familiar. That was Ty Murray.”

“Oh, my God.” I smile at my mistake. Ty Murray has to be the greatest all-around cowboy of all time. He won the national title seven times and in 1993 helped found the PBR, Professional Bull Riders tour, with Dane and a handful of other bull-riding champs. “How is he? Was Jewel around?”

“Apparently Jewel’s somewhere recording.” Dane turns off Murray’s property onto the county road. “And now that you know it was Ty, do you wish you’d gotten out of the truck?”

“No. I’m a fan, of course, but what am I going to say? I watched you on
Dancing with the Stars
a couple years ago and thought the judges were a little harsh?”

Dane grins. “He did all right.”

“Looked like you two were having quite the heart-to-heart talk.”

“He’s been trying to get me into the PBR broadcast booth for years. Thinks I’d make a good announcer.”

“That’s flattering.”

“It is, but it’s also a big commitment. It would involve a lot of time and travel. It would be hard to run my business here and be on the road for weeks at a time.”

“But you’re tempted.”

Dane shrugs. “I love the rodeo, and the PBR has really taken off. It’s exciting to watch, and I’d definitely enjoy being part of it again.”

“You miss competing?”

“Yeah. But there are no more comebacks for me. Nobody’s Knight made sure of that.”

I turn on my seat to face him. “That’s the bull you were riding when you were hurt?”

He nods. “Rankest bull on the circuit that year. Not enough to buck and kick. He went for the rider every time. Nothing made that son of a bitch happier than stomping a cowboy’s guts out.”

“And he stomped yours.”

“After rolling on me a couple times. Shattered my pelvis, hip, and thigh. Broke a bunch of other things, but it’s the hip that’s been tricky.”

“Is that why you’re having all the surgeries?”

“We’ve got fifty-two miles to go. Are you going to ask questions the whole way?”

He sounds so pained that I giggle. “We’re just making conversation, Kelly.”

“Maybe we should turn on the stereo. I’ve got some CDs in there. Tim McGraw. Rascal Flats. Brad Paisley.”

I cross one leg over the other, swing my foot, totally amused. “You’re trying to shut me up.”

“You like country music.”

“You know I do. But it’s nice just hanging out and talking to you.”

He grimaces. “Why do women like to talk so much?”

“Because we’re women, and language is linked to estrogen.” I lean my head back against the seat and smile at him. “Apparently you’re lacking estrogen.”

“Is that so?”

I laugh and, to keep him happy, turn on the stereo.

Brick swings by Dane’s ranch to pick me up on his way home from San Antonio. I hadn’t expected him for another hour and am not prepared, which forces Brick and Dane to make small talk while I run upstairs to gather my things.