Dylan (10 page)

Their gazes met and held. Dylan wished he could turn back time and be that little kid again. Life was simpler; times were easier. But, then, as his grandpa always told them, life wasn't for the weakhearted. “So, you ready to spill your guts yet?”

Jesse's eyes darkened with anger, but he finally drew in a deep breath and shook his head. “I'm not a wimp, Dylan.”

“Is whoever said you were still standing?”

His brother snorted, trying not to laugh, but when their eyes met again, Jesse asked, “You think it's true?”

“Garahans are not wimps.” Dylan paused. “We feel more deeply than most men—it's our Irish hearts.”

When his brother looked out toward the clothesline, Dylan knew what he was thinking. “Some mornings, I wake up expecting to see Mom hanging out freshly washed sheets. Sometimes when I'm making up my bed with clean sheets, I hold 'em to my nose and breathe in—” Dylan paused and cleared his throat. “And I'd swear I hear her singing in my head.”

“Lori was always singing, especially when she thought no one was around and listening.”

Wanting his brother to open up and flush out the festering wound Lori's leaving had left behind, Dylan waited.

“She kind of looked like mom.”

“A sweet faced, blonde-haired, blue-eyed lady,” Dylan rasped. “Yeah. At first it used to throw me for a loop when I'd be reaching for that first cup of coffee, hearing the singing and seeing a slender bit of woman with blonde hair hanging up the clothes. I broke four mugs until Lori started leaving a cup on my dresser.”

A glance at his brother had Dylan apologizing. “Hey, I didn't mean to make it worse—aw, hell.”

Jesse scrubbed his hands over his face. “It took you eight months to come around the last time.”

Dylan snorted. “That was a year ago, and up until the other night I swore off getting involved with women.”

“Gimme seventh months and three and a half weeks, and I'll be ready to come around.”

“No way, Bro, we can't afford to have you leave the living like I did.” Wracking his brain to come up with a way to keep Jesse in the here and now, he finally hit on an idea. “So what time are Timmy and his buds coming over to work with Tyler?”

“'Round three o'clock, why?”

Dylan wrapped an arm around his brother's neck. “'Cause I'm about to fulfill one of your dearest wishes.”

Jesse snickered. “Too late, she's already remarried by now.”

Dylan smacked him in the back of the head. “Not that one. The one you've been pestering me and Tyler about since you were fifteen.”

Jesse's eyes lit up like a kid spotting a pile of presents on Christmas Day. “Woo-hoo! Call Pete and tell him to break out his tattoo gun!”

Dylan watched his brother take off like a shot toward the house. “Hey, wait up.”

“No way, we've got a lot to do before Timmy and company get here, and I'm still not sure what I want tattooed on me.”

Hot on his brother's heels, Dylan opened the kitchen door, and said, “I think we should proclaim our heritage over our hearts.”

Jesse looked over his shoulder and got a glazed look in his eyes. “Yeah… like a flag or something…” He turned back to rummage through the fridge.

Dylan grabbed two paper towels to use as plates, two glasses, and the bag of chips from the pantry. “Hey, is there any iced tea left?”

His brother grunted and set down the armload of sandwich makings before turning back to grab the pitcher. By the time Tyler limped into the house, they were plowing through their first set of sandwiches. Dylan shook his head at his older brother. “You're supposed to be taking it easy.”

Tyler laughed. “Did that for the last couple of days, had to get back to it today.”

Without asking, Jesse and Dylan slid one of their sandwiches in front of their brother and waited for him to sit down. “So, Ty,” Dylan began, “Jess and me are goin' into town to Harrison's so we can save on the delivery fee.”

“Wouldn't be a delivery fee if we weren't so far behind in paying Ms. Minnie.”

“Yeah, well, we figured since Timmy's coming around three, you won't be out here busting your ass alone.”

Tyler looked from one brother to the other and slowly grinned. “So what're you two really gonna do in town?”

“Shoot, Ty,” Jesse grumbled, “what makes you think we're up to something?”

Tyler chuckled. “Hell, we're related.”

Dylan reached for another glass, filled it with tea, and passed it to his older brother. “We're going to Pete's.”

Taking a bite of his roast beef on rye, he chewed slowly then set his sandwich back down. “What kind of tattoos are you getting?”

“We're not sure, but something that'll proclaim our heritage.”

Tyler nodded, tipping his head back to drain the rest of his tea. “How about a shamrock?”

“Yeah,” Jesse agreed. “Right over our hearts, right, Dylan?”

Dylan groaned. “Sure, but we'd best be getting the rest of our chores done so we're ready to leave at three.”

Jess took off like a shot, leaving the two older brothers alone. “He's hurting, Ty.”

Tyler rolled his empty glass in his hands. “I know. It takes time before the healing'll start.”

Dylan already knew that firsthand. “I'm hoping to jump start it. I don't think I could live with him if he acted like I did when—”

“Don't say her name,” Tyler warned. “We agreed.”

A lump of gratitude got stuck in his throat, but he swallowed past it and nodded. “I'd have been lost without you and Jess poking at me until I got it all out of my system.”

Tyler's laugh was from the heart. “You mean until we got you so mad that you started swinging.”

“Yeah,” Dylan rumbled, “and when the fighting was over, we were all bruised and battered, but it didn't hurt so much inside.”

Tyler agreed. “You don't think you can give Jesse the time to heal his heart?”

Dylan shook his head. “I heard that Lori and her man are moving back to Pleasure when I was over at the feed store the other day.”

“Shit.”

“He's bound to run into the two of them in town inside of two weeks, so we'd better get him to explode now where we can control it, instead of in town where people would probably call the sheriff instead of letting Jess beat the tar out of Lori's loser ex-husband.”

Tyler's grim expression morphed into a grin. “Well, hell, I wouldn't mind if our little brother spent a couple of hours in the hoosegow.”

Dylan smiled at his brother. “Yeah… maybe we should wait a couple of days.”

***

Ronnie couldn't get Dylan off of her mind. She'd already stretched and gone through her morning yoga routine. Normally, it helped balance her, so she was ready to face the day. But today, something was off—maybe it was her Chi—maybe she needed to round out her morning with a session of Tai Chi.

“Face it, you know what's wrong with you, and all of the exercise videos in the world won't cure what you need.” She sighed and drew in a deep breath and started chuckling. “But maybe a little co-ed naked yoga might.”

It was too soon; she wasn't ready for an intimate relationship with Dylan yet. Her insides clenched with need…
liar
… OK, well maybe her heart wasn't ready for it, but her body was.

“I'm going crazy,” she grumbled. “That's the only explanation I can come up with. I can't think, I can't focus, and all I want is a long, tall, gorgeous hunk of cowboy. Guaranteed to feel like satin over steel…”

“Arrggh.” She yanked on her hair and winced. “He's making me crazy.”

Her cell phone started playing a song she remembered her grandmother singing to her when she was little: “Ronnie” by the Four Seasons. “Damn it, Shannon!” Her friend must have reprogrammed her ringtone when she'd laid her phone on the bar the other night. She picked up her phone and checked out the screen. It was a number she didn't recognize, but she answered it anyway.

“Wrong number.” She disconnected and stalked toward the bathroom. “Figures.” A hot shower should loosen out all of those kinks and wash away her stress. Besides, she had dessert to bake to bring along with the dinner she'd be bringing out to the Garahan brothers. She indulged in a head-to-toe scrubbing with her homemade sugar scrub. Today she decided to go with the vanilla, tomorrow, maybe she'd try the almond-scented scrub. “Mmmm.” She just loved the way it left her skin so smooth. “Time to get down to the business of finding out a little bit more about Dylan.”

A little while later, after hanging up with Emily, she sat down and stared at her phone and let go of the breath she'd held. “Well… I wanted to know.”

Her lips tingled remembering the way he expertly drew a response from her. She hadn't wanted to be attracted to him. “Maybe I can pretend it never happened. Damn it! I should have figured he'd be one hundred percent Irish.”

The family curse echoed in her head. Every other generation a DelVecchio woman falls for an Irishman, there's usually an unmistakable sign, then she falls in love, marries him, and delivers their first set of twins.

“No. No. No. No, and most definitely no! There will be no falling for Dylan Garahan, no mystic sign, no
L
word, no marrying… again, and I'm not ready to have one baby, let alone two. I'll just avoid him.”

She smacked the palm of her hand against her forehead. “
Stunad.
” Stupid! “How can I avoid him when he's going to be here later today to pick up where he left off last night?”

Ronnie stared down at her phone. Mavis Beeton was on speed dial for emergencies. With the threat of the family curse looming, and the prospect of the handsome cowboy coming back tonight having her holding her breath, she hit the number.

“Mavis? I'm in trouble.”

“So tell me again,” Mavis urged, steering Ronnie toward her kitchen table. “Just what kind of a sign will it be?”

Ronnie slumped onto a chair and put her head in her hands. “That's just it. I don't know.”

The older woman patted the back of Ronnie's hand and sat across from her. “Well now, I don't guess it would be someone who tossed a lasso around you.”

Ronnie's head shot up. “No, I don't guess it would.”

Mavis chuckled. “Don't get all sulky on me. You asked for my help, remember?”

Her head hit her hands again and Ronnie was tempted to pull her hair out—the frustration was killing her. She heard her friend get up from the table, and her manners returned. “I'm sorry, Mavis. I'm just so tied up about this.”

Her friend's smile lit the room. “Interesting choice of words.”

“I am so screwed.”

“No, dear, I wouldn't say that, but you may be passing up the chance of a lifetime if you don't give in to the urge to get to know that young man better.”

Ronnie's stomach knotted. “I'm tempted.”

“Then what's the problem?”

“I can't take the chance.”

“Then you're talking to the wrong person. I'm a firm believer in diving in headfirst.”

Ronnie sighed. “I already did that once, and it didn't work out.”

“I know things didn't work out with your first husband, but I don't know all of the details. Why don't you tell me what happened.”

She didn't want to relive the agony, didn't want to dredge up the pain she'd finally learned to live with.

As if she could sense Ronnie's inner struggle, Mavis gently urged, “Sometimes love is meant to be for a brief time, just a couple of years. Or, for the lucky ones, a lifetime.”

Their eyes met, and Ronnie remembered the story Mavis had shared a few weeks ago about how her rodeo-cowboy husband had been killed by a bull. “I'm sorry, Mavis. I shouldn't be complaining.”

The older woman smiled at her. “I wouldn't trade one minute of the time I had to spend with my man. We fought hard and loved hard. Sometimes you need to grab the bull by the horns to shake things up in your life. Just because you've had one man in your life that wasn't the right one doesn't mean there isn't another one you should try on for size.”

Ronnie felt her mouth drop open. “You don't really mean—”

Mavis grinned. “Honey, there's times in life when good old-fashioned plain-speaking is called for. Now is one of those times. You don't need anyone trying to pretty up words when your mind's already muddled and befuddled by that good-looking Garahan boy.”

Ronnie cleared her throat. “Well, I—”

Mavis sat down across from Ronnie and interrupted. “Sex is necessary.”

Ronnie didn't know what to say to that. “Well, I—”

Before she could speak, Mavis interrupted again. “And anyone who thinks they can substitute a battery-operated contraption for the real thing would be sadly mistaken.”

Ronnie waited a beat, then agreed. “I can honestly say that while it does take the edge off, there's a lot to be said for a long night of lovin' and the cuddling that comes afterward.”

“Amen!” Mavis said as she jumped up from the table. “I take it your first marriage didn't end well.”

“It was a joint mistake.”

Mavis crossed her arms beneath her breasts and frowned. “Did he cheat on you?”

Ronnie nodded. “But I knew he didn't have it in him to be faithful to one woman.”

“He must have been something for you to marry him, knowing he had fidelity issues.”

“Did you ever want something so badly that you'd be willing to do just about anything to get what you wanted?”

Mavis smiled. “I have.”

“And afterward?”

Mavis shrugged. “Life happens, dear. We learn to roll with it and keep moving forward. By the way,” her friend added, “if you ever need any help fixing a problem, I have a couple of friends from the circuit—”

“The what?”

“Rodeo circuit,” Mavis explained. “They might be able to drop by and visit your ex when they're on the East Coast. It'd be a trek up from Tennessee, but they'd do it for me.”

“I'll let you know.”

“Well, all right then,” her friend said. “Now, why don't you and I just ride on over to the Circle G and surprise those boys with whatever you've got prepared for them?”

“I haven't decided which dessert to bring yet, but I do have a pot filled with meatballs and my grandmother's special gravy.”

“In my experience, men, especially Texans, love to eat meat. Meatballs and brown gravy does sound good.”

Ronnie shook her head. “Sorry, I meant red sauce.”

“Oh, why didn't you say so?”

“My grandmother always called it gravy… it's an Italian thing.”

“Do yours have lots of garlic and spices?”

Ronnie nodded. “Dylan tried it last night and seemed to like it; do you think he'd mind eating the same thing two nights in a row?”

“Honey, as long as he doesn't have to cook it, I'm sure he'll be fine with it. Those boys work so hard during the day, they drag themselves back to the ranch house at night. Half the time, I don't think they even know what they eat, let alone remember that they did.”

“Good to know they'll be easy to please.”

“What did you bake?”

“Buttered pecan pie and pound cake.”

“Maybe I'll just have to angle an invitation to dinner out at the Circle G tonight.”

Ronnie smiled. “I could bake you a pie—”

“I haven't had pound cake in years,” Mavis interrupted.

“Then I'll make one just for you. This one's a killer though; it has half a pound of sweet butter, half a pound of cream cheese, and six eggs!”

“My daddy would have loved that.” Mavis smiled. “Melt in your mouth heart attack.”

Ronnie laughed. “My mom got the recipe from a friend of hers. We adopted it and amped it up by adding cream cheese to it. The funny thing is when it's done baking, it weighs more than a pound!”

“That I'd have to see for myself.”

Ronnie paused and confessed, “I've never been on a working ranch before, but I did spend a lot of time out at my friend's farm when I was learning to be a barrel rider.”

Mavis smiled. “Isn't it interesting that you come from back East, but you love horses and learned to ride around barrels?”

“A lot of people back home raise horses.”

Mavis shook her head. “Imagine that. People in New Jersey raising horses and riding them. There's an awful lot of people crammed into one tiny state. It's hard to imagine.”

Ronnie had to agree. “But we still have a lot of open land where people keep horses.”

“But not like the wide open spaces out here.”

“No, but still…”

Mavis narrowed her eyes and glared at Ronnie. “You're stalling.”

Ronnie's gut knotted. “Busted. I'm afraid.”

“That's the first part of winning the battle.”

“What battle?”

“The one to win your man.”

“I'm not interested in winning any man.” Ronnie's protest didn't seem to faze Mavis one bit. If anything, it had the woman grinning ear to ear.

“Texas men like a woman with a lot of fire in her.”

“I give up.”

“No, you won't,” Mavis said. “You're going to keep moving forward with your life. A smart woman like you can maneuver around anything in her way.”

“What if I'm not ready to take the chance that Dylan is the one who'll bring down my generation's curse?”

“Don't you want that big, strong, hunk of cowboy in your bed?”

The image brought everything Ronnie felt for Dylan back to life and stoked the flames burning inside of her. She licked her lips, surprised that her mouth had gone dry. “Must be the heat.”

Mavis stared at her. “Well, at least you're admitting that the boy can surely start a wildfire and keep the flames burning hot.”

Ronnie fanned her face and asked, “Can I have a glass of water?”

Mavis chuckled. Handing her a glass, she asked, “So are you ready to start living again?”

“Oh, hell,” Ronnie grumbled. “We have to stop at my place and pick up the food!”

A short time later, the two were driving east, headed out of town. The gate with the letter G inside of a circle loomed ahead. “We're almost there,” Mavis said as she put the car in park and opened her door.

“Wait,” Ronnie said, putting her hand on the older woman's arm. “Let me.” Ronnie got out and pushed the big gate open, waiting for Mavis to pull through to the other side before closing the gate and getting back in the car.

At the fork in the road, her friend turned right and Ronnie saw the ranch house for the first time. It was white, two stories, with a huge wraparound porch.

“This house needs a woman's touch,” Mavis said.

Ronnie agreed. “Well, maybe some more flowers. Is that a honeysuckle vine over there by the overgrown garden?”

Mavis nodded. “It used to be a sight when their mother was alive.”

Despite not wanting to get involved, Ronnie found herself asking, “Has she been gone long?”

Her friend paused to think. “It's been so long, I'd have to stop and think about it. Tyler's thirty-two, and he was thirteen when she was in that awful wreck out on I-635. Those poor boys were so young to have to deal with such heartache.”

No stranger to the emotion, she felt for the young boys the men had been. “Too young,” she agreed. “So no one's taken care of the garden since then?”

Mavis smiled. “I didn't say that. Off and on over the years, one of them would have a spare moment and try to tame the garden out back. Times have been tough lately, so I guess no one's had the time.” She turned and looked right at Ronnie. “Are you feeling the need to get your hands in Garahan dirt?”

“Just making a comment about the garden is all.” She didn't want to admit that parts of Dylan's history had struck a chord deep inside of her, setting off warning bells in her brain to pay attention to this one.

Fate and destiny could be evil bitches. She'd already gone one round with them and lost. Was she up to another?

Mavis parked the car and got out. “Looks like everyone's out riding the range or doing chores.” Getting out, she walked around to the trunk. “I'll grab the baked goodies if you bring the pot of sauce and meatballs.”

Ronnie got out and opened the door to the back seat, reached in, and grabbed the enameled stockpot. “Are we just going to go inside? No one seems to be here.”

“Those Garahan boys'll be glad we did. Just smelling those meatballs driving all the way out here has made me hungry.”

“If you think they won't mind…” Ronnie wasn't sure about walking into someone's house unannounced, but followed along behind, trying not to drag her feet. Her grandmother would not approve… well, unless you were family, then of course you should go right on in without knocking. Nonni was funny that way.

“Cool… they've got a swing.” Ronnie sat down just to try it out, but almost upended the pot of meatballs. “I'll have to try it out later.”

Mavis was just smiling at her, an odd light in her eyes. “What are you thinking, Mavis?”

Her friend smiled at her. “Hmmm? Oh, nothing in particular. I've always loved visiting out here. I miss my friend.”

“You knew Mrs. Garahan?”

Her friend nodded. “I grew up in Pleasure and pretty much knew everyone. Small towns are special that way. We care about our own, and when one of the young people steps out of line, one of us older folks are around to help nudge them back onto the right path.”

“Shouldn't that be their parents' job?”

Mavis's smile faded. “Only if their parents are still among the living.”

Ronnie sensed there was more that her friend wanted to say, but she hesitated pushing Mavis. They set their burdens down in the middle of a huge farm table. “My grandmother had a huge table like this in her kitchen; my cousins and I used to play underneath it as kids.” Ronnie smiled. “Scared her a couple of times, jumping out at her first thing in the morning on nights when we'd all sleep over.”

“No doubt she loved every minute of it.”

Ronnie's heart warmed as she savored the memory. “She's hoping for a couple of grandbabies who will do the same thing.”

Mavis just smiled and changed the subject. “Well, if you don't want the boys to eat up both desserts, do you want to put one in the freezer?”

Ronnie laughed. “You don't think they'd polish off both desserts, do you? There are only three of them.”

Mavis's eyes positively twinkled. “I've known those boys since they were in diapers. Given the chance, they'd eat sweets morning, noon, and night, so if you don't want them to polish off the cake and the pie…”

Her stomach fluttered. She was nervous and not sure if she should admit it. She'd never really cooked for anyone but family and friends. The Garahan brothers weren't quite friends yet, more like acquaintances, and Dylan… her body started to tingle from her head right down to her toes remembering the molten kisses they'd shared and the way he set her body on fire.

“Ronnie?”

The light touch on her arm jolted her out of her lustful thoughts. Her cheeks were warm and she knew it wouldn't be a secret what she'd been thinking… or who she'd been thinking about.

“Mrs. Beeton,” a deep voice called from behind them. “I thought that was your car.”

“Tyler,” the older woman replied. “You look so much better than the last time I saw you.” She walked over to get a closer look. “I'd hug you, but I'm betting those ribs of yours are still a bit sore.”

His grin was so like his brother's that it was all Ronnie could do to keep her traitorous body from calling attention to itself by moaning in pure pleasure. Damn, those Garahan brothers could make the angels weep they were so beautiful. Her tongue got tied up in a knot. Even carrying a layer of dust, the oldest Garahan was a guaranteed heartbreaker.