An Accidental Hero (12 page)

“You’re something else,” he said again.

She’d wrapped her arms around him, almost automatically, he noticed, pressing her dimpled cheek into his shirt. Now Cammi looked up, stared into his eyes. He could see that what he’d said had confused her. She looked over his shoulder, as if her response was written on the wall behind him. Her voice trembled when she said, “Reid, I—”

Fingertips to her lips, he shushed her. He didn’t want to hear anything logical right now. Didn’t want to hear that it was too soon after Rusty’s death, too soon after the miscarriage, too soon after they’d met. Just because her reasons made sense didn’t mean he had to like them!

“What’s past is past,” he said. And cradling her lovely face in his hands, he kissed the tip of her nose, her forehead, her chin, wishing with each kiss he could erase her every worry and doubt, her grief and sorrow. “I’m sorry as I can be that you lost your baby, but I want you to know that even if you hadn’t, it wouldn’t have mattered to me. I would gladly have helped you raise that young’un.” Though he hadn’t consciously given the matter any thought, Reid meant every word.

The look on her face told him Cammi thought that when she’d opened those French doors she’d let a crazy man inside. And he couldn’t very well deny it, because he
was
crazy…crazy about her!

He’d never experienced anything like this in his life. Maybe he ought to take things easy, slow down,
find out if this was an infatuation or the genuine article.

One look into her lovely face erased all doubt. He was pushin’ thirty, and falling in love for the very first time! He pulled her closer, lifted her face and kissed her. He’d held plenty of women this way, kissed them, but never had he felt like
this.
His brain must have short-circuited, because he didn’t know if he liked the wacky thoughts tumbling in his head, in his heart…or hated them. He thought he’d survived every “first time” experience a man could have, but this? Not even as a teenager had he felt so out of control.

He took a step back, hoping to get some perspective, hoping Cammi wouldn’t notice that her kiss had left him as breathless as a moony-eyed boy. But one look into her gorgeous face added another first to his list: Always before,
Reid
had been the protector, the nurturer in his relationships. This time, he felt safe, knowing Cammi would look out for him as fiercely as a mama lion watches over her cubs. His heart, his feelings, his needs would always be safe in her care—somehow, Cammi sensed that she was the reason he felt unguarded and helpless in the first place!

At rodeo-sponsored charity auctions, bids for a date with Reid outdid the others. He’d been voted Rodeo Bachelor of the Year three times over. His cowboy cronies good-naturedly named him “The Filly Magnet.” And thanks to his talent for smooth-talking, women he’d romanced dubbed him “Slick.” Reid almost chuckled aloud at the irony, because he couldn’t recall a single one of those carefully rehearsed “lines” when he was with Cammi.

Maybe that’s because he knew that with her, he could have things some men take for granted—home and hearth, complete with a wife, a couple of kids, a loyal family dog. He’d think of a better name than Obnoxious, but the picture would be just as pretty.

Before Cammi, he’d known there’d come a day when he’d return to the rodeo, despite his shoulder injury, even if it meant permanently disabling himself…or worse. Because what
else
was he to do with his life?

He had an answer to that question now, thanks to Cammi.

Reid tucked her hair behind her ears, stroked the pads of his thumbs across her cheeks. “Good to see some pink in your face again.”

He thought she looked cute as all get-out, blushing that way. Suddenly overcome with emotion, he clutched her to him. What would it take, he wondered, to make her his own? Whatever it was, he’d do it!

But first things first. He had to ’fess up, tell her everything—that it had been
him
behind the wheel of the other car on that dreadful night. The sooner she knew the truth about him, the better.

He held her at arm’s length, hoping with every breath that she wouldn’t hate him. “Cammi, there’s something you need to know about me. I—”

Creaking from above interrupted him, and he looked at the ceiling.

“Dad’s room,” she explained. “I can hardly believe he’s still up.” Biting her lower lip and wincing slightly, she backpedaled to open the door. “Maybe you’d better go. He’ll be furious if he finds you here at this hour.”

He wondered what she’d say if he told her that her dad already had plenty of reason to raise the roof if he found Reid here, and not just because of the time. In Lamont’s book, Reid surmised, there would never be a good time to find Reid in his kitchen, alone with his daughter.

On a brighter note, the disruption bought him one more day before he’d have to come clean, before he’d have to deal with her reaction to the news. One more chance to show her his good side, to try to win her over.

Reid reached out, snagged her slender wrist and pulled her to him. He pressed his mouth to hers, putting everything he had into the kiss, because it had to say everything he couldn’t. “I’ve been dreaming of finding a girl like you most of my adult life.”

His words had touched her, as evidenced by her blushing smile and the bashful tilt of her head. She bit her lower lip, then whispered a shy “Good night, Reid.”

Walking away from her was perhaps the hardest thing he’d ever done. From the top step of the porch, he said, “Lock up tight after I leave, y’hear?”

Cammi nodded. “And you drive safely.”

Two long strides put him back inside, where he drew her close yet again. “One more for the road,” he said, kissing her. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he added when the delicious moment ended.

He winced when she closed and bolted the door, because a little part of him hoped she’d throw herself into his arms, tell him to stay. “You’ve been eavesdropping on too many of Martina’s chick flicks,” he told himself, descending the porch steps.

A black-and-white long-haired dog bounded up to him just then. “My guess is, you’re Obnoxious,” Reid said, crouching to tousle the animal’s fur. “Do you know how lucky you are, living under the same roof with a gal as wonderful as Cammi?”

Obnoxious answered with a bark, then disappeared around the corner of the house. When the kitchen light went out, Reid stood and put his hands in his pockets. “G’night, pretty lady,” he said. “Sweet dreams….”

The steady
clop-clop
of Lamont’s cowboy boots on the hardwood floor announced his entrance. Obnoxious left the warmth of Cammi’s arms, climbed off the couch and trotted up to his master, oblivious of the man’s messy hair or the sheet wrinkles crisscrossing his left cheek. Lamont bent to ruffle the dog’s fur.

“I thought I heard voices,” Lamont told Cammi. He stood and snugged the belt of his buffalo plaid robe.

Cammi considered evading the question, but decided against it. “The man I crashed into—the one who took me to the hospital…?” She swallowed, not knowing what to make of his deepening frown. “He stopped by to see if I was all right.”

Lamont didn’t move, but narrowed his eyes. “At this hour? That boy never did have a lick of sense!”

“He didn’t want to wake everyone by calling, so—”

“Fool. He should’ve waited till morning.” His mouth formed a thin, taut line. “Then I coulda poked a finger into his chest, made sure he got the message loud and clear when I told him to take a hike.”

Maybe Reid had been right, maybe she
was
cranky, because her dad’s unreasonable attitude grated on her nerves. “What do you have against cowboys all of a sudden?” She posed the question in the most respectful voice she could muster, but just in case she missed the mark, she smiled—as camouflage. “
You’re
a cowboy, let’s not forget.”

“True enough.” He crossed both arms over his chest as Obnoxious sat beside him. “But
this
cowboy never killed anybody.”

She sat up straighter.

“You heard me.”

Smoothing the bangs back from her face, Cammi shook her head.

He stomped across the room and flopped onto the seat of his recliner, and the dog joined him. “I don’t have anything against cowboys. It’s just one in particular I don’t cotton to. The boy did a good deed, driving you to the E.R., staying with you till I got there. I’ll give him that. So we’ll send him a box of cigars, some beef jerky, apples for his horse. Doesn’t matter
what,
long as we show our appreciation.” He aimed his pointer finger at Cammi. “When you get the last of this accident mess cleaned up, you’ll be done with him, once and for all.”

Done with him? Dad had issued an order, no question about it. Cammi was about to start listing Reid’s better qualities when her father said, “Reid Alexander is the polecat who killed your mother.”

Cammi couldn’t admit that she’d already figured that out. Lamont had always been big on family loyalty; he’d see her defense of Reid as a betrayal.

“
He
was the lowlife who was driving the other car that night.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me this before?” Cammi responded.

Scowling, he shook his head. “Didn’t want to say his name, for one thing. Didn’t want you girls havin’ to deal with more facts than necessary. It was hard enough on the lot of you, just grappling with…” Sighing, he ended with a flick of his hand.

“But half a dozen eyewitnesses said Mom ran the red light, said it wasn’t Reid’s fault. I overheard at the funeral that the other driver had been cleared of all charges, right there on the scene.”

Lamont only shook his head. “I don’t care
what
the law said. That fool boy had no more business being out in weather like that than your mother did. What kind of parents let a fourteen-year-old boy drive, anyway?”

“I went to school with a boy who had special permission to drive at fourteen because his father was an invalid. Maybe something similar happened to Reid.”

But wait…hadn’t Reid called Billy his father figure? Hadn’t he said that Martina had been more a mom to him than his own mother had? Cammi wondered what had happened to his mom and dad. Why had this kindly couple stepped in to parent him?

Then something dawned on her. “Driving without a license is against the law, so he would have been issued a ticket for
that
the night of Mom’s accident, right?”

Lamont waved the question away. “His mama and her drunken bum of a husband were working as hired hands at the Rockin’ C in those days. ’Bout that time,
Billy took a spill from the barn loft, busted up his leg pretty bad. The sheriff had taken the stepfather’s license away for drunk driving. So Billy arranged for the kid to get one of those ‘special permission’ licenses you talked about, paid him to run into town for supplies and whatnot. Way I hear it, he was on his way to the pharmacy, to pick up Billy’s painkillers, when…”

Cammi realized now what Reid had been trying to tell her earlier, when the squeaking from the floor above warned them her father could thunder down the stairs at any minute. She folded her hands. “If he was driving legally and the accident wasn’t his fault, then why do you hold Reid respon—”

“Because for starters,” he interrupted, “he had no business being in that king-size pickup. And because no boy of fourteen has the horse sense or the coordination to react to a situation like that. ’Specially not in the middle of a wicked storm.”

Lamont got to his feet, clomped across the floor and stopped in the doorway, the dog close on his heels. “Get some sleep, Cammi. You need your rest.” He hesitated, then added, “And get any fool notions of starting up with that fella out of your mind!”

She didn’t disagree. Didn’t agree, either. Cammi would wait until she was back on her feet to talk this out with Reid, face-to-face. Only then would she decide whether or not to “start up with that fella.” “G’night, Dad,” she said.

“See you in the morning. Patti will be here tomorrow, so brew up an appetite.”

Food was the last thing on her mind right now. But
Cammi smiled and nodded. “It’s been a long time since I had one of her big country breakfasts.”

“Violet and Ivy will be here the day after tomorrow. Sort of a welcome-home dinner.”

It had been a long time since she’d spent time with her sisters. Too long. “I can’t wait to see them,” she said, meaning it.

“Sorry if I seemed a mite gruff.”

Grinning, she quoted Reid.
“Seemed?”

Chuckling, Lamont threw her a kiss and headed upstairs, Obnoxious close on his heels.

Cammi turned out the light and snuggled under the covers, wondering how long before he sent the dog packing. Wondering if the dog would cuddle up with her again, or beg to be let outside.

Wondering how she was going to broach the subject of her mother’s death next time she talked to Reid….

T
he doorbell rang at precisely eleven o’clock the next day. It was too late to be the mailman and too early to be the pizza guy Lily often called at lunchtime. Thankfully, Cammi had showered and changed into a white sweatsuit and sneakers, because at least she wouldn’t have to explain being in a robe and slippers at this hour of the morning.

Cammi peered out the etched-glass window beside the front door and immediately recognized the lady who’d come calling. “Martina!” she said, smiling as she threw open the door.

“Good to see you, Cammi.”

Martina balanced a plate of cookies in one hand, a potted plant in the other, as Cammi wrapped her in a warm hug.

Draping an arm across the woman’s slender shoulders, Cammi led her into the foyer and closed the door. “Goodness, what’s it been—two years since I’ve seen you? What brings you out this way?”

Martina stood near the staircase, dark eyes sparkling in the sunlight that filtered in through the windows. “I’m on my way back from town. Had to pick up some medicine for Billy—”

Gently, Cammi ushered her toward the kitchen. “I heard about his illness,” she said. And seeing the sadness on the older woman’s face, Cammi took her elbow. “Let’s get caught up over coffee and cookies.”

In the kitchen, Martina held out the English ivy plant. “Brought you this,” she said. “It’s a cutting from one I’ve had since before Billy and I were married.”

“It’s beautiful.” Cammi put it on the kitchen windowsill. “Perfect,” she said, standing back to admire the way sunshine gleamed from the deep green leaves.

“It was the least I could do after Reid told me what happened to you. I thought maybe it would cheer you up some.”

She pursed her lips. “I don’t know him well, but I think Reid sometimes talks too much.”

Martina put the cookies on the table. “Baked these just this morning. I remember that your father has a weakness for chocolate chips.” She took a seat at the table, watching as Cammi poured them each a cup of coffee. “You’re wrong about Reid, by the way,” she said, as Cammi removed the clear-plastic cover from the plate. “Usually, he’s more tight-lipped than a turtle. No one was more surprised than me when he came home last night—” Martina laughed softly “—or should I say this morning, and told me where he’d been until all hours—and why.”

Cammi sat across from her, slid the sugar bowl and
creamer closer to Martina. “It was quite a ways for him to come, just to see how I was holding up. Especially when he could’ve accomplished the same thing with a phone call.”

“Not at that hour.” Martina looked right, then left. “Where’s Lamont?”

“He went into town, some kind of business at the bank.” She paused, taking in the woman’s uneasy expression. “Why?”

“Well,” she said, relaxing some, “next to my Billy, Reid is the bravest man I know. I wouldn’t say he’s
afraid
of your dad, exactly. Let’s just say whenever the name Lamont London comes up, the boy gets a tad…nervous.”

Obviously, a lot more had happened on the night her mother died—and since then—than Cammi knew.

“No one blames Lamont for the way he behaved, for the things he said that night,” Martina continued, “least of all Reid. We all understood that your daddy loved your mama so much, he just couldn’t help himself. Grief made him do and say…” She pressed her lips together as if she couldn’t bear to repeat any of it. After stirring a spoonful of sugar into her coffee, Martina added a dollop of milk. “I wasn’t there, mind you, but Billy told me about it after he brought the boy home.” Sighing, Martina shook her head. “Lamont was hard on Reid, mighty hard.”

Cammi’s heart ached, for the pain her dad had gone through that night, for the way he’d taken it out on Reid. She’d heard bits of gossip over the years, but never enough to fill in the missing pieces. And since her questions about that night were always answered with a stern “You’ll have to ask your father about
that,” Cammi and her sisters had never heard the whole, unadulterated truth. “Please, tell me what happened.”

“He called Reid a murderer—one of the kinder things he said, I might add,” Martina began. “He said Reid deserved to spend the rest of his days in prison for killing his Rose, for taking her from her girls, from
him.
” A frown of disapproval creased her brow as she stirred her coffee. “As I said, I wasn’t there, and I thank God for it every time I see that worried look come across Reid’s face. I’m so
glad
I didn’t have to be there to hear….” She shook her head. “Wasn’t a pretty sight, I don’t imagine.”

Cammi nodded. “Must have been awfully hard on Reid.”

“Oh, yes. Very hard.” She sighed, looked wistful. “He was such a happy-go-lucky boy before that night. Since then…” She lifted her cup, blew softly across the surface of her coffee. “Now he’s an odd mix of somber and serious and devil-may-care. He looks carefree on the surface, but I know better. I know because I remember the risks he took during his rodeo days.” Martina clucked her tongue. “And if you had seen some of those li’l gals he dated…” Her frown deepened and she shook her head, harder this time. “Seemed to me he took those ridiculous awards far too seriously.”

Something told her Martina wasn’t referring to rodeo buckles, earned for outlasting other cowboys on the backs of wild stallions and raging bulls. “Awards?”

“Bachelor of the Year, for starters.” She waved her hand as if shooing an annoying fly. “Not one of
those women could be called a lady, not in my opinion, anyway, considering how they threw themselves at him.” Martina fanned her face with the fingertips of one hand, then slapped the tabletop. “He’d never admit it, of course, but I think he became a daredevil because he just plain didn’t care whether he lived or died. I always believed he took chances hoping he
would
die in a fall.”

Cammi pictured him, Stetson at a cocky angle above his brow, western-style shirt hugging his broad chest, dusty jeans clinging to his muscular thighs as he aimed a knock-’em-dead smile at his gaggle of cloying, clinging girl groupies. Unable to explain the surge of jealous anger that pulsed through her, she helped herself to a cookie, proceeded to break it in half.

“Why did he leave the rodeo?”

“Took a nasty spill from a Brahman bull by the name of Ruthless. The fall shattered his shoulder, and the trampling tore muscles, pulled ligaments and ten-dons. He was at death’s door, I tell you! Spent weeks in the hospital and months in physical therapy afterward. His right shoulder hasn’t been the same since, which means he couldn’t hold his own in competitions, not in the saddle, not with a rope.” Martina leaned forward and whispered, “And every chance I get, I say a prayer for ol’ Ruthless, ’cause he might just have saved Reid’s hide!”

Cammi’s puzzled expression prompted the woman to go on.

“See, the accidents were happening closer and closer together, each a little more serious than the
last.” She sat back. “Only the Good Lord knows if Reid would’ve survived the next one.”

The image of Reid, hobbling and helpless, made her stomach lurch. She wondered who had taken care of him, prepared his meals, changed his bandages, massaged the ache from bruised muscles as he recovered. Surely not one of the floozies who’d chased after him. She took a sip of coffee, hoping to wash away the bitter taste
that
picture had left in her mouth.

“So how’s Billy?”

Immediately, Martina’s bright eyes dulled with pain and regret. “Oh, Cammi, he’s not well. Not well at all. My Billy isn’t long for this old world, I’m afraid.”

Cammi reached out, covered Martina’s hands with her own. “I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can do, anything at all, just name it. Even if it’s only to lend an ear now and then, when things get…difficult.”

She slid one hand out, used it to pat Cammi’s wrist. “Even as a girl, you were big-hearted and sweet. Remember the time you gave your choir robe to Sally Olsen and pretended to have laryngitis so she could sing the solo at the Christmas service?” Martina grabbed a cookie and took a bite.

Ah,
Cammi thought,
the good old days…
when Martina played the organ at the Church of the Resurrection, and Cammi held the lofty position of being the youth choir’s soloist. She’d always believed Sally had the prettier, better voice, and routinely said so. But the choir master and Sally’s dad had been embroiled in a long-standing feud…which ended the day Cammi pretended she couldn’t sing and Mr. O’Dell gave Sally the lead.

Martina sat up straighter. “And I think you know if
you
need to talk, I’m here for you, too.”

She took that to mean Reid had filled Martina in on what she’d been through since leaving Amarillo for L.A., and since returning to Texas. “Isn’t it strange,” she said to change the subject, “that Reid and I lived in the same town all those years, yet we never met.”

“No. Not strange at all. There are miles and miles between our ranch and yours. We’re in different school districts.” She harrumphed softly. “Besides, Billy and I never ran in the same social circles as your mom and dad.”

Cammi recalled the fancy parties her parents threw several times a year, recalled that Martina and Billy hadn’t been invited to a single one. “But our families have attended the same church for as long as I can remember.”

Martina shook her head. “Reid was never allowed to come to church with Billy and me. Not while his mama was married to that horrible man, anyway. He’d drink himself into a stupor every night of the week, then drag her and Reid to his church on Sunday morning.” She wrinkled her nose with disgust. “It was one of those metal outbuildings on the edge of town, where the preacher spewed fire-and-brimstone sermons.”

Martina leaned in to share another secret. “Folks say that man used poisonous snakes to test his followers’ faith!” she whispered hoarsely, wide-eyed, one hand pressed to her chest. Martina sat back, added in a voice of disapproval, “Sadly, Reid was long gone when the cancer took his mama, and by
then, he’d been nursing a grudge against the Lord for years.”

A grudge against the Lord…

Martina looked at Cammi from the corner of her eye. “You’ll be good for him,” she said, standing. “It’s about time he settled down. I thank the Almighty that this time, he chose well. You’re the answer to my prayers. Billy’s, too.”

It was a lot to absorb in such a short time, and Cammi didn’t know how to react.

“Reid deserves some happiness.” Martina pushed in her chair. “Lord knows he’s had enough sorrow in his life.”

Of course he deserved happiness, Cammi agreed, but what on earth made the woman think
she
could help him find it?

“Hate to eat and run,” Martina said, heading back toward the foyer, “but I have to get home with that medicine. Billy had enough of it to last a few more days, but I’m not one to take chances. What if there’s a storm? What if I forget to gas up the car?” She gave a nervous laugh. “Like Reverend Johnstone says, ‘Trust in the Lord but lock your car!”’

Smiling, Cammi opened the front door. Giving Martina a goodbye hug, she added, “Thanks for stopping by. You’ve brightened my whole day. Dad’s too, once he sees those cookies!”

“See you at church on Sunday?”

Cammi stiffened. Her own grudge against God made her want to shout that she had no intention of attending services, this Sunday or any other, for that matter. But out of respect to this gentle woman who’d
always been devout, Cammi said, “If I’m feeling up to it, you might see me there.”

“I’ll pray for you,” she said, squeezing Cammi’s hands. “And Billy and I could use your prayers, too.”

She couldn’t promise to pray, but couldn’t bring herself to say she wouldn’t, either. So Cammi nodded and said, “Thanks again for stopping by. It was great seeing you.”

“You take care of yourself, now, you hear?” And hands clasped under her chin, she said, “It’s so amazing.”

“What is?”

“How much you look like your mama.” She laughed. “But I expect you’re bored to tears, hearing what a beautiful woman Rose London was.”

She’d heard it all her life, it seemed. “No, I love hearing about her.”

“Well, I’ll be on my way. I’ll be sure to give Reid your love.”

Cammi wanted to say,
No! Don’t do that!
But her spunky visitor was down the steps and halfway to her car before she could form the sentence. Grinning, Cammi waved, thinking she’d like to be a speck on the wall when Martina delivered that message, because wouldn’t it be interesting to see how the Bachelor of the Year reacted to
that.

Weeks after Reid’s return to Texas, Billy had met with his lawyer, and when the dark-suited man left the Rockin’ C, Billy had handed Reid a legal-looking document.

“Makes perfect sense,” Billy had said when Reid protested the power of attorney.

“I don’t want any part of the paperwork,” Martina agreed. “You’re the son we never had. Surely you don’t expect us to turn to strangers at a time like this.”

He couldn’t have refused them, even if it hadn’t been “a time like this.”

From that day on, Reid had taken care of all official ranch business. He made a point of discussing everything with Billy first, of course, because he sensed Billy would leave this old world easier, knowing the spread he’d spent a lifetime building was in good hands.

He’d just deposited a hefty check—money that had come from the sale of a prize-winning calf—when he heard a familiar voice behind him. Reid didn’t need to turn around to know it was Lamont London, having a conversation with the next person in line. With any luck, he could duck out of the bank without being seen.

Under ordinary circumstances, he would have waited until he got outside to put on his hat and sunglasses. But no meeting with this bear of a man could be called “ordinary circumstances.”

Reid strode purposefully to the door, feigning interest in the deposit slip as a way to avoid eye contact. Experience had taught him that the very sight of him brought it all back to Lamont: whose fault the accident had been didn’t change the ugly fact that Rose London died that night. Rather than stirring up trouble, Reid made it a point to avoid Lamont whenever he could.