Texan for the Taking
highlight_author
Charlene Sands
highlight_reads
15,0K
highlight_chapters
10
One
Of course he had to be here.
Mason Boone.
Drea MacDonald had avoided him all these years, but there was no hope for it now. She had to deal with him on a strictly professional level. She liked to think she’d moved beyond what had happened, had moved way beyond him, but how could that be? Something that profound in her life, something that had scarred her so permanently, wasn’t easily forgotten.
Mason pressed his tall frame against the back wall of the hospital conference room, arms folded, watching her through intense coal-black eyes. She couldn’t ignore him. He was a presence in the room; a tall, dreadfully handsome man, dressed impeccably in a dark suit, who commanded respect and exuded confidence.
As a young girl, all those traits had lured her in. But he’d rejected her without a second thought.
Her best bet would be to treat him with indifference, to give him a nod and get on with her business. He didn’t have to know the pain he’d caused her. He didn’t have to see the hurt look in her eyes or the flush of her skin. It would take an award-winning performance, but she was up to the task. After all, she’d imagined this moment in her head fifty times, if not more.
Her heart sat heavy in her chest because she wasn’t the only one who had lost something precious. She wasn’t the only one who’d been deeply scarred. Mason had, too. He’d lost his wife and unborn child nearly two years ago. His loss and grief only contributed to the tremendous guilt she felt for disliking him so. He had the town’s support. Everyone was sympathetic to his loss. It was hard to hate a guy everyone else rallied around. Guilt ate away at her even though she had every right to hold a grudge.
She stood at the head of the conference table, just finishing up her presentation. “And thanks to the generosity of Mason Boone and his family,” she said, grinding her teeth as she gave him praise, “we’ll hold our multifaceted weekend fund-raiser at Rising Springs Ranch. Our goal, two million dollars.”
The doctors, hospital administrators and committee members overseeing the fund-raiser gazed at each other, raising skeptical brows. It was a tall order, true, but she had always banked her reputation on fulfilling her goals. And this part of Texas was rich with donors of cold hard cash.
“It’s doable,” said an assured voice from the back of the room.
All heads swiveled to Mason Boone. His family had founded the Texas town of Boone Springs decades ago, and the hospital had recently changed names from County Memorial to Boone County Memorial. The Boone family and their kin practically owned the entire town. Well, they owned the best parts, so when a Boone spoke, people listened.
“It’s very doable, if we’re smart,” Drea persisted, again avoiding Mason’s dark eyes. “And I intend to be...very smart.”
“Thatta girl,” gray-haired Dr. Keystone said. “We trust you, Andrea. You’re one of our own.”
“Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate your support. Together, we’ll make this work.”
She smiled, feeling powerful in her black suit and three-inch cherry-red heels. She wore her long, dark cocoa hair up in a sleek, practical style. She meant business.
Landing this job at the hospital served many purposes. Nailing it would all but guarantee her promotion to vice president at Solutions Inc., the consulting and events planning firm she worked for in New York. But more importantly, she wanted to help the community where she’d grown up by raising funds for a much-needed cardiac wing, to honor her mother, who’d died of heart failure. And she also wanted to reconnect with her ailing father. Unfortunately, that meant living in the cottage the Boones had gifted Drew MacDonald after practically stealing Thundering Hills Ranch out from under him. Her father’s acceptance of the living arrangements irritated her to this day. How could he be okay with their charity, while Drea’s life had been snatched right out from under her as a young girl when the Boones took over Thundering Hills? She’d lost her home, too, but her father hadn’t seemed to notice how much that had disrupted her life.
After the meeting, as Drea collected her papers, carefully placing them in her briefcase, she heard footsteps approaching and held her breath.
“Nice job, Drea.”
That deep confident voice unsettled her. The timbre, the tone, the way Mason said her name—memories came rushing back, tilting her world upside down. God. Why was he heading this committee? Deep in her belly, she knew. He’d lost his pregnant wife to heart disease. Drea couldn’t really fault him for wanting to be involved; she had similar reasons for being here. Yet, even knowing the pain he’d recently endured, seeing him in the flesh for the first time in years curdled her stomach. She resented the Boones, but him most of all.
Mason stood facing her, his eyes boring in, and finally, because she felt defiant and fearless, she stared back and gave him her best aloof smile. “Thank you.”
Twelve years had only given his good looks a more rugged edge. She took in the sharp angle of his jaw, the facial scruff that hadn’t been there before, the length of his hair, whipped back and shining like black ink. None of it mattered. She was merely observing. She’d turned off all her buttons, leaving him none to push anymore.
“You look good,” he said.
The compliment slid off her back.
“Drew will be glad to have you home.”
“It’s temporary,” she said, closing the clasp on her briefcase.
“Still, it’ll be good for him.”
She looked away. What about what was good for her? What about all those days and nights when she’d had to be the adult because her father was passed out drunk on the floor? What about the dinners he’d never cooked, the clothes he’d never washed? What about a twelve-year-old kid having to baby her own father? And what about the heartsick motherless girl who’d desperately needed...love?
“We’ll see.”
“You haven’t been home yet?”
She shook her head. “No, I came here straight from the airport.”
“Drea?”
She couldn’t look at him, even though there was something pleading in the way he’d said her name. Instead, she continued fiddling with the closure on her case.
“It’s good to have you home,” he said finally.
Chin down, she nodded. “I have a job to do.”
“Yeah, about that. We should probably coordinate on the events you have planned. We could look at them over dinner one night or—”
“No.” Her voice was sharper than she’d intended. So much for being professional. He was staring at her like she’d lost her mind. Maybe she had, thinking she could come home in hopes of doing something good for the community, something to honor her deceased mother, even if it meant working alongside Mason. Were her emotions so tangled up that she couldn’t separate her professional life from her private one?
Goodness, but she had to. She’d committed to this fund-raising campaign. She was being paid to see it through. And she had to remind herself over and over that she was doing this to honor her mother. It was time she came home. At least temporarily.
“No?” Mason narrowed his eyes.
“I mean, I’ll email you. I really am very busy, Mason. I have a lot on my mind today.”
She gave him a plastic smile, one he immediately picked up on as bullshit. He nodded. “Yeah, I get it.” His mouth curled in a frown and there was an edge of annoyance in his voice now. Ha! He had no right being annoyed with her. Not when the last time she’d been with him, he’d treated her like dirt.
He slipped a business card into her hand, his long lean fingers skimming over her knuckles. Immediately her heart beat faster, her nerves jumped. The shock of his brief, warm touch strummed through her body. “Email me when you find time. We have exactly one month to pull this off.”
His urgency wasn’t lost on her. This was as important to him as it was to her. They had that in common. Both wanted a special cardiac wing of the hospital built in Boone Springs. But all of a sudden one month in Texas seemed like an eternity.
Not to mention she’d be living at the cottage on Rising Springs Ranch again.
On Mason’s home turf.
“Yum, this is just as delish as I remembered.” Drea swallowed a big hunk of her Chocolate Explosion cupcake. Unladylike, but Katie Rodgers, her bestie from childhood and owner of the bakery, would expect no less.
Her friend laughed and removed her apron. She put the Katie’s Kupcakes is Klosed sign on the door and joined Drea at the café table.
“You do not disappoint,” Drea said. “And you remembered my favorite.”
“Of course I did. Can’t forget all those times you’d come over and we’d bake up a batch. We were what, ten at the time?”
“Yeah, but ours never came close to these marvels you crank out at four in the morning. Gosh, you always knew what you wanted to do with your life. I’m so proud of everything you’ve accomplished, Katie. I bet you’ve got all of Boone Springs wrapped around your sugary fingers, with lines out the door in the morning.”
“I have no complaints,” she replied. “Business is good.” She sighed sweetly. “It’s great to have you back in town. I’ve missed you.”
Drea grabbed Katie’s hand and squeezed. “I’ve missed you, too. I couldn’t drive out to Rising Springs without seeing you first.”
“I’m glad you did. Only I wish it wasn’t temporary. I kinda like seeing you in person instead of on Facetime.”
“Well, let’s try to make the most of my stay here. We’re gonna both be busy, but we have to make a pact to see each other a few times a week,” Drea said.
“Pinkie promise?” Katie curled her last digit, and they linked fingers just like they had when they were kids.
“Pinkie promise.”
“Good, then it’s settled.” Katie began to rise. “Would you like a cup of coffee to wash down the cupcake? I could brew up a fresh pot.”
“When did your cupcakes ever need washing down?” She smiled. “No thanks. Any more coffee today and I swear I’ll float away. Let’s just talk.”
Katie smiled and plunked back into her seat. “Okay. So, you’re working on the hospital fund-raiser.”
She nodded.
“With Mason?”
“Yeah, which is the major drawback to my coming home. I have to make the fund-raiser my high priority, so I’m enduring the Boones for as long as it takes.”
“I get that it’s hard for you, Drea. I really do. It was hard on Mason, too, losing Larissa and the baby. From what I hear, he’s only just starting to come out of his grief.”
“It’s a tragedy. But let’s not talk about the Boones. Because if we do, then I’ll have to ask you about Lucas.”
Katie’s eyes rounded. “Lucas? We’re just friends. If that anymore.”
“Uh-huh. So you say.”
“For heaven’s sake, he was engaged to my sister. And he broke Shelly’s heart when he went off and joined the Marines.”
“But I hear he’s back now.” Drea took another bite of cupcake, certain she’d die from an overdose of decadence.
“Don’t remind me. Shelly still hasn’t healed from him running out on her like that. It was such a shock. Luke seemed true blue. After the breakup, Shelly hit some rough patches. Mom’s convinced it’s all Luke’s fault. I mean, it sounded more like something Risk would do. Not Luke.”
River “Risk” Boone, heartthrob and one-time famous rodeo rider, was the player in the Boone family.
“Yeah, well, we can’t forget he’s a Boone. It’s part of his DNA,” Drea said.
Katie’s right brow rose and she shook her head. “So, after all these years you haven’t gotten over it, either?”
“Over what? The fact that the Boones preyed on my father’s grief and then stole Thundering Hills out from under him? Our families had been friends for years, but as soon as my dad hit a rough patch, the Boones swooped in, stole our ranch and we were reduced to living at the cottage on Boone property. They gave Dad a pity job as caretaker. Then there’s Mason and all that he put me through... Oh, never mind. I don’t want to rehash it.” She waved her hand, ending her rant.
Katie gave her a serious knowing look. But Katie didn’t know everything. Drea hadn’t told her best friend what had happened after her debacle with Mason. How she ran into the arms of the first willing man and gave up her virginity. How she’d gotten pregnant and lost her baby. It had been the worst time of her life.
“I guess we need to put the past behind us, Drea. That’s what I keep telling my sister.”
“Yeah, easier said than done sometimes.”
She was through talking about the Boones. She polished off the cupcake and licked the frosting from her fingers, closing her eyes as she relished every last morsel of goodness. “Mmm.”
“So, I hear your dad is struggling a bit. The fall he took last week was pretty bad. When I heard about it, I stopped by his place with a batch of apricot thumbprints and half a dozen cupcakes.”
“Ahh, you’re the best. He loves your thumbprint cookies. Thanks for checking in on him.”
“He’s very excited to have you home.”
“I know.” She couldn’t say too much; her emotions were curled up in a knot about going home to Drew MacDonald. Maybe that’s why she was procrastinating. She’d missed her father, and she loved him. But she was a realist. Her dad would never win a Father of the Year award. Hard fact, but true.
“He’s changed, Drea. He’s trying very hard.”
She sighed. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” She glanced at her watch. “Which is what I should do just about now. I hate to go, but I’ve really gotta get on the road.”
“Will you text me later?”
“Of course.”
They both stood and then Katie went behind the counter. “Just a sec. I’m not sending you home empty-handed.” She packed up a white box with goodies and sealed it with a pastel pink Katie’s Kupcakes sticker. “Here you go,” she said, handing over the box. “Welcome home.”
“Thanks, friend. My hips will never be the same.”
“Your hips and my thighs. We’re all doomed.”
Drea chuckled and kissed Katie on the cheek. “At least we’ll both go down together.”
After she excited the shop, a sense of real doom flashed through her system.
She couldn’t procrastinate any longer.
It was time to go to the place she’d never considered home.
Drea parked her car in front of her father’s house just as the autumn sun was setting. Splashes of deep pink and purple painted the sky overhead. She’d forgotten the stunning sunsets in this part of Texas. How many years had it been since she’d seen a horizon so rich and vibrant? These wide-open spaces were tailor-made for such amazing spectacles. Texas was known for doing things large and the sight brought a little peace to her jittery heart.
Lordy be.
She chuckled at the slang that had come back to her after crossing state lines.
But she wasn’t that Texas girl any longer.
She gazed toward the cornflower-blue cottage trimmed in white, and saw her father sitting in a rocking chair on the front deck. As soon as he spotted her, he made an attempt to rise. His face turned a shade of red, not from pain, she assumed, but from frustration as he faltered and slid back down onto the seat. On his next try, he pulled himself up and leaned against a post. His hair was lighter gray than she remembered, his body chunkier, but he was still a handsome man, and there was a spark in his green eyes as he waved to her.
She waved back, holding her breath. She reminded herself this wasn’t the same drunken man who’d given up on life after her mother died. He was trying to be a good father. He’d honed his skills on a smartphone so he could send her text messages. He called her every week to talk. He never once made her feel guilty for not coming to visit. He never once asked her to give up her adult life to be with him. But she’d felt bad anyway.
She got out of the car and retrieved her luggage from the trunk. As she approached, wheeling her suitcase behind her, a big smile surfaced on his ruddy face, making him look ten years younger than his sixty-five years.
“Hi, Daddy,” she said. Wow. Whatever possessed her to call him that? She hadn’t referred to him that way since she was a kid.
“Hey there, my girl. Welcome home.”
As far as she was concerned, Thundering Hills, a large parcel of land to the west that was now incorporated into Rising Springs, had been her true home. Before the Boones got their hands on it. “Thank you.”
She climbed the steps to come face-to-face with her father. He was pale and moving slowly but the light in his eyes was bright with excitement.
He opened his arms and took a step toward her, a shadow of fear crossing his face for a moment. He didn’t trust that she’d embrace him. There’d been so many times in her young life when she’d needed a hug from him or a kind word, and he hadn’t been there. For right now, she put that behind her. Well, as much as she could hope to. That kind of rejection was hard to forget.
She stepped into his arms and gave him a brief hug before backing away.
“It’s good to see you, Drea. You look so pretty, just like your mama. You’ve been well?”
“Yes, I’ve been well. How about you, Dad?”
“Ah, I’m doing just fine.”
She didn’t believe him. He’d taken a fall and had downplayed it to her when she’d questioned him over the phone. He’d blamed it on a bad case of arthritis, but according to Katie he’d refused to go to the doctor for a health screening.
Back in the day, her father would lose his balance and crumble in a drunken stupor a few times a day. Now he probably feared she wouldn’t believe he was clean and sober if he admitted to falling down the steps.
God, she hoped he wasn’t backsliding. Not after all this time.
“We have a lot to catch up on, girl.”
“Yes, we do. Let’s go inside. I’ll make us some dinner.”
Her father’s eyes brightened. “It’s already done. I made your favorite, pot roast and red potatoes. I even attempted your mama’s special biscuits.”
“You did?” Nobody made homemade biscuits like her mother. Maybe Katie was right. Maybe her father was really trying. She could count on her fingers and toes how many meals her father had actually cooked for her as a child.
“Well, let’s go inside and try them out,” she said. “I’m starving.”
“Sounds good to me. My stomach’s been growling. But mostly I’m just pleased to have my little girl back home.”
She was twenty-nine years old, hardly a little girl anymore, but she was here now and she’d have to deal with old memories and the pain those reminders evoked.
She forged into the house, wheeling her suitcase easily as her father followed behind her.
The next evening, Drea breathed a sigh of relief as she arrived back at the cottage after a very productive Mason-free day at the hospital. All day long she’d held her breath, thinking she’d run into him and have to make nice for appearance’s sake, but he was a no-show and she was glad of the things she’d accomplished without having to deal with him. She’d gone over some important aspects of the fund-raiser with the supervisors of various departments and had called to confirm donors for the art sale. The rest of the event details involved the Boones and she had no other option than to deal with Mason on that.
She walked into her bedroom, left untouched since she’d lived here, and shed her business suit and high heels for a comfy pair of washed out jeans and an I ♥ New York T-shirt she’d received for running a 5K race. After pulling her hair up in a ponytail, she washed her face and brushed her teeth. Man oh man, she thought, glancing in the mirror. There was no denying she looked like a schoolgirl again. It was amazing how a little makeup and a sleek hairstyle could transform her appearance. But inside, she was still that unsure, guarded little girl.
At least it wasn’t horrible living here, and her father was making a gold-star effort on her behalf. She was trying like hell to keep an open mind, trying to put the past behind her, but her scars ran deep and it wasn’t easy to forgive and forget all she’d gone through here in Boone Springs. Not a day went by that she didn’t think about the baby she’d lost, about the child she would never know. It wasn’t Mason’s baby, yet she’d blamed him for rejecting her, destroying her confidence and causing her to run into the arms of the first man who’d showed interest in her.
A knock at her bedroom door shook her out of her thoughts. “Drea, can I speak to you?”
She opened the door and glanced at her father. Beyond him, down the hall, she saw four men standing in the parlor. What were Mason and Risk Boone doing here? The ranch foreman, Joe Buckley, and Dwayne, one of the crew, were also there. “Sure. What’s going on?”
Her father shook his head, his expression contrite. “I forgot about the poker game. We, uh, the boys usually come here on Tuesday nights. I’m sorry, Drea. I guess I’ve been so wrapped up in you being home, it slipped my mind. Should I send them away?”
“No, Dad. Of course not. I don’t want my being here disrupting your routine.” The irony was that as a kid, she’d always felt like a disruption in his life. She got in the way of his drinking.
“They brought dinner. Pizza from Villa Antonio. Will you come out and eat with us?”
What could she say? She liked Joe; he’d always been decent to her, and Dwayne was her age. They’d gone to school together. She didn’t like breaking bread with the Boones, but she was hungry and she couldn’t hide out in her room all night. “I suppose I can do that.”
She walked into the parlor with her father and the men took off their hats. Everyone said hello but Mason. Hat in hand, he gave her a long stare and nodded.
“You still breaking hearts in New York, Drea?” Risk asked, his wide smile almost infectious. Risk was a charmer and she’d always been a little wary of him. He was too smooth for her liking.
“I don’t know about that, but I like to think I’m killing it in other ways.”
“I bet you are.”
“Good to see you, Drea. You’re looking well,” Joe said. “It’s been a while.”
“Yeah, it has,” she said. “How’s Mary Lou?”
“Doing fine.”
“Please tell her hello for me.”
“Will do,” he said, smiling.
“Hey, Drea,” Dwayne said. “Missed you at the ten-year reunion.”
“I know. I just couldn’t get away, but Katie caught me up to speed on everyone. Congrats, I heard you just had a baby.”
“We did. Heather and I named him Benjamin, after my father.” He took out his phone and showed her a picture of his son.
“He’s precious.”
“We think so, too. Thanks.”
“So you and Mason are gonna work together on the fund-raiser.” Risk shifted his glance from her to his brother, a twinkle in his eye. Was he trying to cause trouble, or just being Risk? She didn’t know how much his family knew about her history with Mason. True, it was old news. But not for her.
“That’s the plan,” Mason said, eyeballing her. “After the game tonight, I’d like to talk to you about it.”
“We don’t usually finish up too late,” her father interjected. “It’s a workday for everyone tomorrow.”
“Okay, fine.” She’d just have to put on her big girl panties. She couldn’t postpone it any longer. She’d gotten herself into this and she had a job to do.
Mason gave her a nod and they all sat down at the dining room table. As she chewed her pizza and drank iced tea, every so often she’d steal a glance Mason’s way, and each time, his coal-black eyes were on her, as if she was the only person in the room. He made her jumpy. She didn’t like it one bit, and she fought the feeling.
But there’d always been something between her and Mason. Well, maybe it was all one-sided. At age seventeen her feelings had started out as hero worship for a guy six years older than her and had grown from there. Until he’d shot her down and humiliated her.
After dinner, the men got serious about poker, and Drea busied herself cleaning the kitchen, collecting and trashing pizza boxes and setting the coffeemaker timer to brew a dark rich roast in two hours. The guys had brought beer, something Drea knew her father had insisted upon. He wasn’t going to spoil their night because he had a drinking problem. A tall glass of iced tea sat in front of her dad and he seemed fine with it.
Three years clean and sober.
God, she hoped the worst was behind him now. But there was always doubt in her mind, and maybe her father was trying to make a point by showing her he was a changed man.
During the game, she disappeared into her room and flipped open her laptop. She stared at the screensaver, a golden Hawaiian sunrise, wishing she could jump right into the picture.
But no, that wasn’t going to ever happen. Was that kind of serenity even real?
She clicked open her spreadsheet and calendar and got busy working on items for the fund-raiser. There were dozens of moving parts for the big push and she was beginning to make headway.
After twenty minutes or so, she was totally engrossed in her work. A knock at her door broke her concentration and she jumped.
It wasn’t her father’s light rapping. No, she knew who it was. Ugh. She got up and yanked open the door, ready to face Mason.
Immediately the woodsy scent of his cologne wafted to her as she looked into his dark eyes. It was hard to miss the broad expanse of his chest as he braced his arms against her doorjamb, making her feel slightly trapped. “Hi,” he said.
She’d expected him to be demanding, to insist they get to work, to pressure her. But that one word, spoken softly, surprised her and her defenses went up. “Mason.”
“I, uh, I know it’s late, but we should probably talk. If that’s okay with you?”
It wasn’t late. It was barely nine thirty. On really busy days, she’d often work until midnight. But things in Boone Springs were different than the big city. The pace was slower, the nights shorter, and the mornings came earlier. “It’s fine.”
“It’s a nice night. Why don’t you grab a jacket and meet me out back?”
She blinked. She didn’t want to be alone with Mason on a moonlit night, but she wasn’t about to show fear.
“Your dad’s probably tired. I wouldn’t want to keep him up with our chatter,” he explained.
“Right,” she said. “Give me a minute and I’ll meet you outside.”
Mason nodded and took his leave.
Drea shut the door and leaned against it, her pulse pounding in her ears.
Memories flashed through her mind, but she halted them in their tracks. She had a job to do. She was vying for a vice president position at Solutions Inc. A lot was riding on her communication and marketing skills with this fund-raiser.
And she couldn’t allow Mason Boone to get in her way.
The screen door opened and Drea stepped outside. Mason shot up from his seat the second he glimpsed her. Her boots clicked on the deck as she approached. She was wearing jeans and a pretty pink blouse underneath a black leather jacket. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, with a few wavy strands falling loose, caressing her cheeks. She looked soft and pretty, so different than the uptight, buttoned-to-the-neck woman he’d met in the committee room yesterday.
Years ago, he’d been attracted to her for a short time, until rational sense had kicked in and he’d backed off from the hell storm it would create. At seventeen, Andrea MacDonald had looked at him with adoring eyes and his ego had taken flight. But she was Drew’s daughter, a mixed-up girl yearning for affection. Affection that couldn’t come from Mason. He’d been twenty-three, six years older than her, and supposedly wiser. He would’ve only screwed her up more.
Now, he wanted to tell her she had nothing to fear from him, that he was dead inside and had been for a couple years, ever since Larissa died. But that was assuming too much. Maybe her coolness wasn’t necessarily aimed at him. Maybe she’d changed from that sweet, caring, innocent girl she’d been to someone he didn’t know, didn’t recognize. Lord knew, he’d changed over the years as well, and he was simply here to work alongside her. The past was the past and maybe it was better to let it alone.
“Brought you some coffee,” he said, grabbing for the cup on the wicker table beside him.
She smiled, apparently surprised at the gesture. “Thanks.”
“I didn’t know how you like it.”
“Black is fine.”
He handed it to her, their fingers brushing in the transfer, and he gazed into her pretty eyes. She lowered her lids and looked away. Those sage-green eyes were the same as Drew’s, and her long, lustrous dark hair and olive skin were all her mother, Maria. Drea was a striking mix of Irish and Latina.
“You want to have a seat?” He gestured toward the bench he’d been sitting on. He could feel her reluctance, sensing she’d rather have a root canal than sit with him, but she finally perched on one end. He sat as far away from her as possible, which was all of twenty-four inches, if that.
“So, you still resent all the Boones?” he asked on impulse. The question had been bugging him since he’d laid eyes on her yesterday.
Her head snapped up and coffee sloshed in her cup. Luckily, it didn’t spill onto her hand. He would’ve never forgiven himself for that.
“Some more than others.” Her eyes narrowed on him and suddenly she wasn’t looking quite so pretty anymore.
“We tried to help your father, Drea. He was in desperate need and—”
“I know the story your family tells. I don’t need to hear it from you.”
“Maybe you do. Maybe that’s the only way this is going to work between me and you.”
“So, I’m supposed to forget all about the fact that when my father came to yours, asking for help with Thundering Hills, asking for a loan to tide us over for a few months, he was flat-out refused. Our families had been friends for years. And then, the next thing I know our land was bought out from under us and all we got were crumbs. Dad had to swallow his pride and take a job on Rising Springs. I had to move off our land to come live in this little cottage. We lost everything.”
“That’s not the way it happened, Drea.”
“That’s the way I see it, Mason. Total betrayal.”
“Your dad...”
“What? What about my dad? He took to drinking heavily after mom died and...he’s never been the same.”
Mason didn’t have the heart to tell Drea the truth. If Drew hadn’t after all these years, then it wasn’t his place to tell her that her little girl’s perception of what happened had been all wrong. Drew had made Mason’s father promise not to reveal details of the deal. Since both of Mason’s folks were gone now, victims of a small plane crash years ago, he felt it was up to him to see that vow was upheld. If Drew wasn’t willing to set his daughter straight, Mason surely wasn’t going to do it.
“Drew’s doing real good now.” It was all he would say on the matter.
“So everyone in Boone Springs is telling me.”
Mason didn’t understand her. He was just barely coming out of his own grief, and related to how Drew MacDonald had been in the same situation, losing his wife the way he had, so unexpectedly. Mason hadn’t taken to drinking the way Drew had, but everyone coped with heartache differently. He wasn’t excusing Drew’s bad behavior, but he knew what the man had been feeling.
Mason shook his head. “Aren’t you glad he’s getting better?”
“Of course I am. If it’s the real thing this time.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I’ve been disappointed before.”
Mason ran his hand down his face. “I know it wasn’t easy on you, Drea.”
She shook her head, and he took in how her long hair flowed in natural waves down her back. “You know nothing about me, Mason.”
He met her sad green eyes and something shifted in his heart. She tried to talk tough, but she wore her pain on her sleeve and her vulnerability grabbed him. “I know more than you think.”
“That’s a Boone for you, claiming to know every—”
He pressed two fingers to her lips, quieting her tirade. “Shh, Drea.”
Her eyes snapped to his.
He couldn’t believe he’d done it, touched her this way. But grazing her soft lips, looking into those defiant eyes was like a live wire sparking and jolting inside the dead parts of him. He felt alive for the first time in years. It was heady and he wanted more. He wanted to hold on to that spark that told him he was a living, breathing man.
Sliding his fingers off her mouth, he cradled her face, his thumb circling her cheek, strands of her hair caressing the back of his hand.
“Mason, are you crazy?” she whispered, yet the look in her eyes told him she was thinking something different.
“Maybe.”
“You’re not going to—”
“Yes, I think I am.”
He put his mouth to hers and tasted her sweetness, the plump ripe lips that were meant to be kissed. Sensation flooded him. He remembered her. As a teen. A girl who’d needed affection, and he’d given it to her without question, until the night that she’d bared her soul to him and offered her body.
He’d had to turn her away.
Any decent man would have.
But she wasn’t a kid anymore. And it was good, so damn good that instant guilt flooded him. His heart belonged to another and always would. That jolt of life he felt worried him and scared him silly. It was as if he was losing his wife all over again. He hadn’t done anything this impulsive in years, much less with Drea, the very last woman on earth he should be kissing.
